NOISES SPRANG FROM EVERY corner of the dull painted Buka I stepped into. Girls and boys chatted endlessly in groups of two and more, walked around with trays of food they had just ordered or hovered over the four different sellers show glass frames trying to decide what their purchase would be. The rest sat on the tables, enthusiastically talking while eating, defying the table manners song this school made us sing when I was younger. There were an approximate of fifty tables covered in coca cola wraps in the hall, and each of them housed five chairs maximum. And Christy told me that this was just one of the four Buka halls, only two existed when I was here last.

Thanks to Sopuluchi, I was able to settle into the last three classes having somebody by my side. The chubby girl was friendly and had an aura the rest of the students seemed to be drawn to. She was charming and funny, two things I knew I was not. I very well wished that I could be funny at least because people tended to remember funny memories easily. Plus, that would be a great way to get Sopuluchi. He would laugh so hard his heart would never want to let go of me.

"Do you see this entire hall," Christy threw her hand on my shoulder and gestured with the other towards the crowd of students. I wore confusion as I waited for my new friend to complete her statement, there was no way to predict the direction of this...conversation?

"This hall, these people. They belong to me." What?

"Belong to you?" She tsked at my question and took her hand off my shoulder when someone wanted to go out through the entrance we unconsciously blocked.

"Yes," she said. "All the people here are my citizens and this is my kingdom."

"The Buka is your kingdom?" I tilted my head, unsure if I got her context correctly. However, to show that my slow understanding was getting to her, she breathed in and shook her head.

"Come, let's get something and I will explain." I followed behind her as she led me to the second seller. There was a boy in front, pointing at every piece of food, asking the price over and over again. While we waited Christy decided to explain what she meant. "Have you read One of Us Is Lying?"

Read? I was the last person to ask that question. I rather watched than read. I could only manage to read small poetry books, small simple poetry because sometimes I liked to write meaningless poetry, other than that I did not read. Which was why I did not have the best grade in literature. I tried, but I was an average literature student.

"Err," I looked everywhere but at her, I did not want to see the reaction on her face that her fellow art student didn't read.

"Oh. You don't read novels. I have to stop finding friends who don't read because then I don't get to fangirl about certain things with them. It's like I am cursed to squeal alone," she groaned briefly, looking to the roof with both palms raised towards it and I had to look at it also to check what exactly Christy saw. However, her next words—dramatic and unnecessary—explained everything. "Dear Lord, how do you expect me to write the best scripts that would become the best movies if you don't give me friends that would at least read through my script for me?"

I placed a hand over my mouth, amused at Christys action, but embarrassed when I realized others had joined behind us forming a line. Even the sellers had to pause momentarily to look over and then some shook their heads, wearing the same look as I had on.

"Are you always the drama?"

Christy smirked at me, "In the words of Conan Gray, 'why be logical about something when you can be dramatic'?" She proceeded to keep to her words and tapped the still confused boy in front of her. "Hey, get something or get out." Perhaps those were the words the boy needed to hear because he wasted no time in deciding the food he would get. After he left, we went next. It was my turn to scan the foods and ask for prices, but Christy decided to help me 'get the best delicacy the school restaurant could offer', which was moimoi wrapped in leaf with a side dish of roasted plantain and an accompanying ofada stew.

I scrunched my face at the meal on my tray but did not complain. I would have gone with simple rice and stew, or maybe jollof rice because nothing ever went wrong with jollof rice. Except that one time at that eatery when it felt like it was stone rice we ordered.

"So, as I was saying..." Christy began once we got to an empty table at the side of the hall. She squinted her face at me, wearing a sudden serious expression. "Do you remember what I was saying?"

Because my mind had been on the food in front me I was unable to recall immediately what she had been saying. Christy rolled her eyes, and I expected her to raise her hands to the roof to call on God again but she just said, "It is like your first day with me, so I will be lenient with you."

"Oh good," I breathed out grateful that she would not be drawing any attention to us. To me.

"So, again. I mentioned the One of Us is Lying book, it got adapted to a movie and I thought they did a pretty good job but I could have done better with the script, make it more gen Z."

I nodded, not following the conversation.

"But, there is this character, more like the center character. Not the main, but the center. And he dies...are you following?" Christy stretched some fingers in my direction as she asked the question. I nodded, quickly putting in a spoon of the moimoi into my mouth to avoid having to explain if she went all teacher mode on me as to tell me to repeat what she said.

Thankfully, she went on. "The character, Simon that dies at the beginning is the creator of this gossip app that the entire school are scared of." She takes a bite of her roasted plantain easily, not minding the steam that protrudes from it due to how hot it was. I stared, unconsciously stopping midchew.

Christy continued talking, oblivious to what I stared at and why. "Simon was like the god," she paused, considering her statement, "Small g please. He was the king of the high school kingdom because he could easily instill fear into anybody with the information he had on them. All of the dirty hidden secrets. King." She said the last word with admiration in her tone.

"Oh, so he just had gossip."

My friend gave me a playful stink eye. "Mortals, they do not understand power."

"Does that mean what you meant earlier was you have gossips on everyone?" I could not help the smile that worked its way to my face. It was comforting to have a person obsessed with that part of secondary school as someone I knew, in my boarding school I was usually the last to get any piece of gist.

"I don't have gossips on everyone. I am the minister of information and manager of this school. I am just not so techy and too good to start an app to weekly share anything."

"Ah," I said out loud but I meant to say, 'still just gossips on people'.

Christy wore an unreadable expression, her eyes scanned the hall in search of someone or something. Then her face lit up which slipped into her tone, "See that skinny boy in red, third table by the window?" I looked, searching for the described boy until I found him. He laughed loudly in his space, discussing with his group of friends.

"Yeah." I brought my eyes to my food back.

"He is supposed to have graduated like two years ago. Nobody knows why he got stuck with our set. Well, nobody except me...and the administration. Apparently, he beat up a boy in his former school when we were in JSS3 or SS1, I don't like maths..."

I had the urge to shout me too but I did not want to interrupt her.

"He beat the boy black and blue for telling the teacher he brought his mobile device to school. Then he enrolled in another school, something of the same happened. But this time he beat a junior, broke a few teeth. Heard poor boy had to have his mouth open for a week."

Wow. I tried imagining having to open my mouth for a week.

Christy trudged on, "He did not do so well on his entrance examination, so Wellington pitied his father who is a big oil company man, and let him start from SS1. Now, he lies about his age, claiming to be same age with people in our set when he is two years older. Or if we follow the year, he is three years older."

"Wow." I did not know what to think of this piece of information I had been given.

My friend apparently had more to say, and she would not let a full mouth stop her from talking, "The girl few tables to our left..." I was about to move my head, "Don't look. But, her name is Mmesoma Durojaiye, she stole something important to her parents just to get the number of one of the boys here. I will not say his name for privacy reasons.

I racked my brain as I recognized the name but could not put a face to it. "Oh, now she knows about privacy."

"Please, I just needed to prove to you that I am the minister of information." She had now finished the food on her tray while I rounded up with the plantain. I had to admit that it was really a delicacy.

"I guess I must believe you are, but why collect all these information?"

Christy set down the bottle of water she drank from. "I don't know. It is just a weird hobby. I don't do anything with it, I don't exactly plan to, except you annoy me. I hold grudges deeply."

"You?" my voice wore disbelief, "You're so charming and sweet. Maybe drama queen, but grudges. I have to try not to anger you then."

"You're safe until I have something on you."

I wore a fake shock, "What? Minister of Information does not have something on me? Are you now Lai Mohammed in the female form?" That caused her to laugh, and she did not try to suppress how loud it went. The eyes of most of the students in the Buka were on our table, it did not seem to bother her though.

"Don't worry. I will not actively look for something because you're my friend. But eventually news always comes around. You and that new boy that Hausa emo boy."

Hausa Imo boy? "Imo state?"

Christy face palmed. "God, you are hopeless. The boy at the door coming inside when it is almost end of lunch break," at first, I was grateful she did not add an instruction not to look because once I saw the boy I gasped and turned back to my meal, pretending not to be interested in the Hausa Imo boy who I now understood to be Hausa Emo boy.

"Fancy seeing an angel fan in a Buka," he wasted no time approaching my table. I looked to Christy, giving her signs to tell him to go away, but she was more interested in questioning him.

"What's your story?"

Dangali Kaka raised a brow at her, wore an expression like he wanted to say something, then ended up completely ignoring the drama queen who huffed at the action.

He smiled at me before speaking. "I guess I'll be seeing you in the next class. Save a seat for me." He left just as he finished his statement, straight to one of the food sellers.

"Urgh, I will so get his gist." Christy breathed once he was out of earshot, and the bell rang next. Lunch break was over, and onto the last class for the day. I had expected school to be school, but at the same time hoped there was more time to hang out with Sopuluchi. Was this how the rest of my august would be? I sighed, rising from my chair alongside several others who were all headed to the large auditorium—according to my schedule—for the next class. 

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Final update for today. I might be too busy on Wednesday and this week's Original update may not be coming, but if I can, I definitely would.

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QOTD: do you have a dramatic friend or are you the drama?

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Please like, comment, vote.
See you soon, cheers.