A Geeks' Choice

•••

The chime of the bell clanged, making the students dart into class and settle down.

Julia sat in her seat with her classmates, sticking to her normal routine of minding her own business. They were supposed to have English that morning. Her friends were making a fuss about having a free period.

The English teacher hadn't come yet, and it was already twenty minutes into the class-with another twenty to spare. Julia was a nerd who loved her books, and ever so often she hoped for her teacher's appearance. Now, only ten minutes were left.

A man walked into the class, making them all quiet down and look at him with confused expressions.

It was the sports teacher, Mr. Obai. Maybe he was going to punish them all for their noise pollution? No one knew. Their hearts were pounding. Hoping for the best, they sat with sweaty palms and pretend smiles.

"Good morning, students," he greeted between gritted teeth, eyes bloodshot red as he fumbled with his notepad.

"Good morning, Mr. Obai," they gave their usual response. It was weak, but acceptable.

"The sports competition is approaching, but your principal has decided to add a few people to our sports participants," he said, scanning the room while flipping open his notepad.

"Joel will participate in the relay for his team." At his words, a hunch-backed male shrank into his seat, making his chair shift in response. He was never the jock type-always the class shadow.

He continued, "Also, Thelma will participate in the long jump for her team."

Some boos were heard from the back. Before Thelma could duck down, several pairs of eyes met hers. Thelma was a slightly tall, skinny Black girl.

He said deftly, looking right at her, "And finally, our new participant for the skipping race: Julia." His words were faint and held a lot of doubt.

"And if any of the new participants refuses to train or cooperate, he or she will repeat this class."

Julia was a self-conscious person. She had never practiced a sport in her fifteen years of life, and now she was confined to a particular one: skipping.

As if on cue, gasps were heard all around, followed by small whispers here and there. It was a mystery to Julia why they were picking these specific participants for sports. It surely was the principal's hard work, so she shrugged it off.

"Any questions?"

No one dared to speak up. Neither smart-talk nor crude jokes were heard. If anyone did speak up, they'd find themselves sitting in the unwelcome chairs under the freezing glares of the principal, receiving an unwarranted sermon for the day.

The deadly silence of the class and the creaking fan were enough to answer him.

He blinked twice, snapping his notepad shut, and scanned the room again before walking out.

...ᘛ

Julia had made little headway in convincing the sports teacher. He was like a loyal robot to the principal, waiting on his every command-even at his own risk. She was now standing inside his office, where the school's sports equipment was kept.

"Mr. Obai, please, I'm not the right participant for skipping," she begged. "I will just go out there and disgrace myself, and then I'll lose. Please put someone else."

"Trust me, if I could, I would, but my hands are tied. All you can do is train," he said. "And don't come back begging." With that, he slammed the door in her face, turning her away.

By now, she had dropped the thought of begging both the principal and the vice-principal. They were both hard to convince anyway, even by the brightest student.

Deep in thought about what to do, she marched down to the school's tuck shop to meet up with her usual lunch mate, Delilah. Delilah had gone ahead of her to buy both their lunches.

It was a long walk from the sports teacher's office to the tuck shop under the scorching sun. Julia hadn't even noticed she was in the lunch queue until someone spoke up.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Delilah asked, knowing where she had been since break time began.

They both walked to an empty canteen seat nearby, away from the crowd of students queuing at the tuck shop. They dropped their snacks and sat down to eat.

"I don't know... practice?" Julia said. It was a stressful prospect, but she had no choice.

"You, practice?" a voice said out loud, making everyone across the room tilt their heads.

"There's a reason why nerds are nerds and jocks are meant to stay as they are."

"Even if you practice, you'll forever be a failure at sports," a girl named Mackenzie taunted, while others laughed. That was more than enough to smash Julia's fragile self-esteem.

The other students sat in their mini-groups, devouring the lunch placed on their plates-which was either brought from home or bought at the school tuck shop.

"She wasn't talking to you," Delilah snapped at Mackenzie. Then she turned to Julia and asked, "So, which sport did they put you in?"

Delilah played defense for the girls' football team at school. She knew Julia inside and out. They were cousins, after all.

Julia cringed at the question, but shyly answered anyway.

"Skipping."

Julia had actually always dreamed of the skipping rope. Jumping to dodge the rope under one's feet, sweating with pleasure-she had often skipped when she was younger, but stopped because of a nagging reason. Still, the memories were blissful to this day. Delilah knew what Julia was thinking, but could only relate on a different level.

"If I were you, I wouldn't participate," Delilah advised, taking a sip of her drink.

"Then I'd repeat SS2."

"Tell your mother, and then change schools."

"I can't," Julia said, checking around to see if anyone had heard her.

"Okay, participate. But only practice will save your butt out there from humiliation," Delilah remarked. Nosey students nearby laughed at the comment. To them, the situation was a joke, and Julia's failure would be the punchline.

...ᘛ

The morning birds chirped as the sun's rays beamed down. Julia stomped on the grass outside, wiping away the morning dew.

Saturday had come with an overwhelming task. Delilah had tried yet again to persuade her to forfeit the competition, but it all fell on deaf ears.

Julia had dug out her old skipping rope and practiced for fifteen minutes straight, which proved to be incredibly frustrating. Her feeble muscles and sweat-soaked body practically begged for a bath and a nice warm nap. Though giving up was an option, she couldn't. Skipping was not on her usual agenda, which was exactly why she needed help.

Mackenzie wouldn't help her; she'd only leave her with a bruised ego. Delilah would help, but she was already a participant in two or more sports activities. In short, most of her friends were too busy to tutor her.

Then it hit her. She would have to settle for her last option-the only person who would never say no to her.

Daniel.

She flicked her wristwatch, which read ten forty-five.

Walking back into her house, she informed her mother of her next destination: Daniel's house. He was her only childhood friend besides Delilah. They were tenants on the same street, so his house was only about a mile away. She strolled along the road; luckily for her, the sun hadn't risen fully yet.

She met him outside his house by the porch, playing a board game with his mother and his two brothers. By the looks of it, they had already finished their chores and homework.

Daniel was smiling, which was a surefire sign he was winning. He knew how to play any and every game you threw at him.

Since Julia had known him, he had always been the smartest in his class. As the football and volleyball captain for the boys' teams at school, every student looked up to him as the future Senior Prefect (SP) for the coming year.

"Good morning," Julia said, greeting everyone with a cheerful smile. They replied to her greetings one by one. His mother, a caring woman in her late thirties, gave Julia a knowing look.

"How are you and your mother?" Daniel's mother asked.

"We're fine," Julia said, looking between Daniel and his mother. "Daniel, I'd like to speak with you."

He was stunned but expected it. She led him to the side of the building, where there were fewer people and it was quiet.

"So you're doing the skipping race and you want me to help," he said, catching Julia completely off guard.

"Who told you? How did you know?"

"Which should I answer first?" he asked, leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets. His sweaty skin glistened under the rising sun as his almond-brown eyes stared back at her. "For one, look at what you're wearing right now. And two, we're in the same class."

Julia looked down at her clothes, suddenly aware that she was still in her sweatpants. But even so, someone must have told him the precise sport she had been assigned to.

"But you're in Art, and I'm in Commercial," she said. "Tell me the truth, Daniel, who told you?"

He could see the spark of anger deep in her voice. She was never this confident around others-only around her friends and loved ones.

"My sources told me."

She frowned deeper. "What sources?"

He squirmed a bit at her question. Finally, he gave up trying to protect the people who were gossiping about Julia at school.

"Jessy," he took a dramatic pause, then breathed out, "and Mackenzie."

Mackenzie, the school gossip and biggest bully. She and Julia had never been on good terms.

"Jessy?!" Julia said in a hurt tone. She never expected Jessy to gossip about her; she considered him a friend.

"Jessy didn't gossip about you, even if it sounds like it," Daniel clarified. "He just told me how badly people were bad-mouthing you at school."

"I'm going to inform my mom before we go," Daniel added.

"Okay."

Julia watched him head back into his house. She didn't bother asking him what Mackenzie had been saying. He would probably just end up telling her some heroic story Mackenzie had fed him anyway.

...ᘛ....

Julia skipped with belief, right up until she tripped and fell to the ground.

She had been skipping for nearly two hours since they got to her house. Her knees were sore, and her face and armpits were bathed in sweat. She felt like she had the funk of a dying chicken on Christmas Eve, but Daniel kept pushing her to do more.

She got up, took the handles, and managed another twenty skips before landing flat on her butt. She had only been able to clear three consecutive jumps before, which felt like a success to her but a disappointment to him.

"Your leg muscles are weak," he pointed out.

Still lying on her back, with sand coating her sweat-slicked arms and legs, she nodded in agreement and stood up. "I'm trying."

"It's not enough. When was the last time you actually ran?"

She paused to think while brushing the dirt off her skin. When was the last time she ran? She remembered being chased by a dog once. Maybe that counted, maybe it didn't.

"Have you never run a real race before?"

"I once chased a chicken," she offered.

Daniel laughed aloud at the thought. He knew exactly how that story ended-the chicken had ended up chasing her. It happened when they were nine years old. The chicken Julia's mother bought for Christmas had escaped its cage while Julia was home alone. Daniel had come to visit for the holidays and found her standing on the kitchen counter, yelling at the chicken to get back in its cage. Luckily for her, he had arrived just in time to save the day. The chicken had pecked her during their little Tom-and-Jerry episode, and she had told him all about it while they treated her scratches.

"A real race, Julia."

"A chicken race is a real race!" she pouted.

Two minutes into the argument, Daniel was already tired of it, so he changed the tactic.

"If you can run from here to that tree over there," he said, pointing at a shade tree next to a nearby duplex, "then we'll end it for today." They could both see the story building clearly.

The distance was roughly a 100-meter sprint. She had set out looking for a skipping coach, but now her main hurdle was just finding the stamina to run.

He continued, "Then we're done."

She was willing-desperate, even-to run if it meant getting the training over with. She wanted nothing more than to go home, wash up, sleep in her comfortable bed, and bury herself in her books.

"Okay," she agreed. Gathering up her weary legs, she dropped into a running stance.

"On your marks," he called out, looking like he thoroughly enjoyed the almighty power of being a coach. "Ready?"

She pushed her spine straight and her hips down. Before he could even shout Go!, she took off. She wasn't incredibly fast, but she maintained a decent beginner's pace. She ran to the tree and back with great effort. Panting heavily as she reached Daniel, she collapsed to the ground, giving him a desperate look.

"It was okay, sha," he conceded. She was too dehydrated to care about the mild praise.

"Run again. This time I'll run with you," he said, giving her a hand to boost her up. "First person to the tree and back wins."

"What?! No!! Run by yourself, abeg, I'm tired!" she pouted, folding her arms.

"Just try. One run."

"Just one?"

"Two," he said with a sly smile.

"Okay."

He counted down again, and they blasted off. Surprisingly, Julia took the lead as they approached the tree.

"I'm faster than you!" she yelled during her three seconds of glory.

He simply smiled before easily outrunning her on the way back to the starting line. Julia flailed her hands in the air like a baby penguin, panting heavily as she crossed her finish line.

"Take," he said, tossing her a chilled bottle of water. She forced herself to stand up straight, pulling her hands off her knees to catch it. She opened the bottle and gulped the entire thing down in one continuous drink.

"Thank you."

"Let's run again," he challenged.

Julia groaned, but without thinking, she agreed. She didn't even wait for him to count this time. She took off toward the tree, letting the wind catch her natural hair as her legs flew, determined to reach the target before him. Suddenly, a foreign body collided with hers, knocking her clean off balance and sending her tumbling into the dirt.

She didn't even mind that Daniel had deliberately tripped her. In fact, she giggled the entire time she lay there. This was officially the most exercise she had gotten in a whole year.

She stopped giggling when Daniel suddenly stood up, catching a familiar sound nearby. It was still far off, but the distinct honking of a blowhorn grew louder with every passing second.

They both looked east and then west, scouring the road until Julia finally spotted him.

A young Black man was riding a bicycle modified with a large cooler box attached to the front. He rode down the street, alerting the whole neighborhood with his loud, familiar horn.

»«

The heating sun was intense enough to turn a tray of crayfish light brown.

Julia stared at the young Black man down the street. He had parked his ice cream cart and was already surrounded by a crowd of people, both young and old, all pointing and requesting frozen treats in bottles and packs.

She turned back to Daniel, whose eyes were also glued to the scene. The scorching weather was reason enough to buy ice cream. So, why not?

"How much do you have?" she asked him.

Not bothering to answer, Daniel checked his pockets, counting the naira notes he had on him. Then he walked over to the ice cream cart with Julia tagging along. Unlike the other boys at school, Daniel was Julia's childhood friend; he was always the one sponsoring both Julia and Delilah's menu anytime they were together, never looking for anything in return.

The man leaned against his bicycle seat and opened up his cooler box, displaying his goods. A few empty packs and bottles were entwined and clasped onto a metal rod on top of the cooler for display.

Julia picked out both their ice creams, and Daniel paid. The sun was beginning to set now, and they shuffled their feet as they walked back toward Julia's house. Even with the help of the cold ice cream, they were still hungry and exhausted.

As they walked, stuffing their tongues into the frozen cream, a small child unknowingly bumped into Julia from behind, making her ice cream fly out of her hands and land right on the dirty street.

"Are you blind?" she gasped.

"Sorry, Aunty," the child said quickly before running off to play with the other children, who were now standing around waiting for a Showmax. Julia didn't know how to react; the child had apologized, and it was just a mere accident.

She turned around, expecting her teenage friend to soothe her anger, but he had already left her behind, calmly licking his ice cream as he strolled toward home. She jogged to catch up with his slow pace. She was green with envy because he still had his treat while hers was busy worshipping the dirty road.

"Daniel, I won the race we ran earlier," she said. "So, where's my reward?"

He stopped in his tracks, looking down at her cunning expression. She clearly wanted him to buy her a second ice cream, which was definitely not part of his plan.

"You didn't win, and neither did I. You fell on the floor, and I got distracted."

It was true. Neither of them had won. Still, she wanted that ice cream.

"Okay, then give me your ice cream."

"No," he declined, leaving her stunned.

"Please, nau," she pleaded, widening her eyes.

"Oya, take," he said, holding the ice cream out to her. Julia reached her hand out, elated that her friend was sacrificing his happiness for hers. But she failed to notice the cunning smirk on his face. Suddenly, he yanked the ice cream back and walked away, leaving her gripping empty air like a fool.

"No!" he laughed, quickening his pace. Her smile turned upside down. Losing her own ice cream was bad enough, so she didn't restrain herself this time. Coming with full force, she lunged at him and grabbed the ice cream bottle, pulling it toward her side with all her might.

They had a total tug-of-war-strength against strength. Passersby started to stare, but they didn't care. The ice cream sloshed around violently as they yanked it back and forth until the milky goodness jumped right out of the bottle, splashing all over their faces. In the heat of the moment, they had completely forgotten to put the cap back on. Daniel finally gave up with a scowl on his face. There was no use fighting over it anymore; the bottle was already halfway empty.

"Ahbeg, I'm going home to eat and play football with Jessy," he said, using his hands to wipe the sticky cream off his face. Knowing Daniel, he was fully planning on playing football with his peers at the public school field, no matter how late it got.

The straw had fallen to the ground, so Julia bent down to pick it up. She tapped it against her palm to remove the small pieces of dirt before plugging it back into the bottle to suck out the remaining liquid from the small opening. Ah, she felt so refreshed.

Daniel wiped at his face again, but only succeeded in smearing the cream further, making it look like a patchy white beard. Julia looked up at his terrible attempt to clean himself and burst out laughing.

"Okay, see you later," she smiled.

...ᘛ....

Walking into the living room, Julia was surprised by how quiet it was. She usually expected her mother to be chatting away with one of her friends or neighbors, but the house was still. She glanced at the clock, which read exactly six o'clock, and headed straight to the bathroom. She stripped off her sweat-stained clothes and took a long bath; her body truly deserved it after all the running and the ice cream wars.

A few minutes later, dressed in her usual house wear, she marched into the kitchen, catching the tempting aroma of her mother's homemade stew.

"Mummy, good evening."

"Ah, you're back?!" Julia's mother said, spotting her at the entrance. "I thought you were going to sleep outside tonight."

Julia fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother was a typical African mother. She stepped into the kitchen anyway, seeing that her mother could use some help setting up dinner.

She collected her portion of the food her mother had just dished out and carried it over to the dining table. She had missed her usual afternoon swallow, which was why she couldn't wait to dig in. After a short prayer, they started eating.

"So, what were you doing outside until this hour?" her mother asked, fixing Julia with an intense stare. Her father hadn't returned from work yet, so the tension in the room was relatively low.

"We were practicing for our school's inter-house sports."

"Mhmm," her mother nodded. "What sport?"

"Skipping," Julia replied lazily.

"Skip well, oh," her mother warned. "When I am talking about you to my friends, I want to have something to boast about."

"Eh?"

"When I was your age, I was the best in everything." Surprisingly, every African parent was the best in their day, Julia thought. If so, then who used to take last position?

Julia's mother was a young nurse in her mid-thirties. Despite being a traditional housewife, she wasn't outdated when it came to modern trends.

Suddenly, the dining room lights flicked off, plunging them into total darkness. The room grew pitch black between the sudden power outage and the late evening hour.

"I'm not surprised," her mother grumbled in the dark, already rustling around to search for a torch.