Image designed by me on Canva
Living in House of Hope is not so bad when you abide by the rules. I’ve lived here since I can remember and I’ve been comfortable, but then, it’s not so easy to abide by the rules because the things that make me happy are against the rules. Like keeping pets and going out with friends after school. That’s why I’m the biggest rule-breaker here. Not because I enjoy stressing the adults out, but it’s just something that I do to keep sane. That’s why after about three weeks of dutifully returning to the home right after school with the other kids, I’ve planned to skedaddle today.
Once the clock strikes two, I grab my bag and dash out of the classroom. I’m the first kid to get out. The goal is to make it out of the school building to my hideout at the back of the classroom blocks before Penny or any of the other orphanage kids see me.
I’m out of breath by the time I get there. I throw my bag to the ground and fall on the grass panting. It’s not long before Ade joins me.
I give him a fist bump. After running off so many times, Penny was assigned the duty of keeping an eye on me to make sure I return home with the rest of them since her classroom is just next to mine. Again, she failed.
The plan Ade and I devised was that he’d tell Penny that he saw me leave school. That way, they’d stop searching for me and leave. Then, Ade and I can comfortably get going.
“The weather forecast was wrong then. There’s no way it’s going to rain when the sun’s out like this,” Ade says, squinting at the sky.
“Come on, let’s get going,” I tell him once I’ve dusted the back of my trousers.
The arcade just outside school opened today. They’d advertised that their games would be free so who were Ade and I, game freaks that we were, to miss an opportunity like this? So, I felt good despite knowing that I’d get punished.
Once Ade and I step into the building, all thoughts of punishments exit my head as I gaze in wide-eyed excitement at the array of games all around me. This is worth getting punished for!
Like people say, time flies when you’re having fun. That day, it flies like a Peregrine Falcon. By the time we bother to check what time it is, it’s already 5.33. And, we planned to leave by 5!
Immediately, we grab our bags and rush out of the arcade, but once outside, a crash of thunder stops us dead in our tracks. We look at each other with fear in our eyes. Then, it happens — rain descends! It’s like someone’s tipping over bucket after bucket of water from the heavens. We run back to the arcade to wait it out, and even get wet before we reach the building.
We learn that the rain means business as we watch it keep pouring. An hour later and it’s still at it. We’re both dreading what awaits us at our homes. For me, it’s one thing to not return home with the others, and another to be away till dark. I’d get lashed — that’s certain. But, Ade would most likely not. His parents would be too relieved to have him back home that he’d get away with only a scolding. One of the perks of being an only child.
It’s almost half-past seven when I reach the orphanage. It’s Miss Nelly that opens the door to let me in.
“Where have you been!” is the first thing she screams at me.
The words come out in a rush. “I was about to return home when the rain started.”
She doesn’t seem to know what to say to me. She just slams the door shut and urges me inside. “Go! Everyone’s waiting for you.”
I walk to the living room with small steps, the tiles cold beneath my stockinged feet. I know they’d have all been worried because I never return this late. Despite my fear and all, my tum growls. I can smell beef stew as the aroma is everywhere. It’s even in the living room. Once I step in there, everyone’s eyes fall on me.
Some kids are sprawled out on the floor, some are sitting, others are settled on the sofas and armchairs. Pairs and pairs of eyes just stare at me disapprovingly as if saying, “He’s done it again.”
Well, I don’t get a lashing as I expected, only a stinging slap and some biting words from Miss Moka who runs the orphanage. Apparently, a child of seven was kidnapped just this evening on our school street and the orphanage has been worried sick clueless about my whereabouts. I’m filled with shame that I put them through so much worry. Then, I get grounded as well. I’m excluded from playing outside, watching television, and I get to do more chores and don’t get any pocket money for a whole month. It does not come as a shock though — it was inevitable and expected. What does is being told in very clear terms that if I run off again, I’d be withdrawn from school and made to join the others being homeschooled instead. And that’s the worst thing that could happen to me. Imagine not being able to hang out with Ade again!
I leave for the bedroom cold and miserable. I can’t mess up again or things will be a whole lot worse.
With the new state of things, I spend my days learning to do as I’m told, not even a toe out of line. After school, I return home to do chores, homework and read my books on pets. I enjoy learning about animals and could spent hours watching documentaries and reading books about them. I’d kill to have a dog or a cat, but living in House of Hope, there’s no hope for me. For starters, nobody would get me one, and secondly, pets are not allowed in the home. I used to go over to Ade’s house to play with his cat, Mr Joe, before when I run off. That’s not even possible anymore.
Over the next couple of days, we hear of more happenings in the neighbourhood. A house is burgled and two shops are robbed. So, more rules are made in the home to keep us safe and I don’t even think of going against them until some two weeks later when I get a call.
Everyone in my bedroom is asleep but me when Nelly brings the phone. I was working on a jigsaw puzzle.
“Hey buddy,” I say to my bestfriend, wondering why he’s calling me.
“Hey,” he replies. “Adam, I need help.” Apparently, he’d mistakenly left their backyard door open and Mr Joe had run out which is something he’s never done at night. Ade searched the compound, but didn’t find him. It’s been exactly forty-five minutes since he stopped searching and Mr Joe isn’t back.
“I need to look around for him. Maybe he’s nearby. What if he later finds his way to the road and gets hit by a car? Please come help me out,” Ade pleads, panic palpable in his voice.
I wince. I’ve not had to make a decision like this before. It’s the hardest thing. My life’s at stake here because I’d literally have none if I’m found out.
“Will you come, Adam?”
I can’t bear to say no to Ade. He’s been the best friend ever. Who knows, I might even make it back home without anyone finding out. But what if someone does?
“Please…”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at your house.”
Some minutes later, Ade and I are going down the street calling out in a husky whisper, “Mr Joe, Mr Joe.”
We finally find him just two compounds after Ade’s. He’s sitting atop their garbage can.
Then, I hurry home. I almost don’t notice, but then I do. I’ve almost gone round the corner to enter my street where the orphanage is the first house, but then I see a light on in Auntie Ifeoma’s supermarket. I stop for a second to really look and spy two men putting things in two sack bags. Instinctively, I turn the corner and run home, my heart pounding.
Soon, I’m lying in bed thinking about what I’ve just seen. I shudder to think what would have happened if those men had seen me. I think about Aunty Ifeoma. She’d probably be snug in her bed oblivious to what is going on in her shop. The more I think about her, the more guilt I feel. I can’t count how many times I’ve gotten free sweets and snacks from just being sent to her shop. Could I do this to her? But, could I also do it to myself?
I block everything out of my head and decide to sleep, but the next minute, I’m knocking on Miss Moka’s door. And before I know it, there’s so much noise on the street and everyone’s up. While the other kids chatter, I sit in a corner awaiting the adults’ return and their verdict and even begin to wonder if I’ve done the right thing. I can’t help but wish I hadn’t seen the men.
Well, some fifty minutes and some zzzs later, I’m thankful that I saw the thieves because Aunty Ifeoma doesn’t lose any of her goods and I still get to hop on the schoolbus come Monday morning because apparently, someone was given a second chance for being brave and doing the right thing despite breaking a rule again.
