For those who attended boarding high school, senior students were a menace to the juniors. Almost all junior students hated the seniors, and we lived like predators and prey, or master and slave, the latter preferably. If you were lucky as a junior student, you could have a school father (so-called school dad) that was one to reckon with and not the type that the son would almost be equal in size or capacity. I was the labor prefect and equally not an easy meat. The luckiest juniors in school were my schoolchildren; they had a free pass wherever and whenever. I rebuked them oftentimes, but my name was an easy escape route whenever they were in a mess. This didn't mean there weren't seniors who took it lightly with my school sons; they suspected my name was used often as a cover-up, but they wouldn't confront me.
I knew trouble was coming when a classmate of mine barged into my room, holding my school son by the collar. I knew he must have been beaten and handled roughly. That was boarding school life; it's like a jungle where you either get preyed upon or be a predator. My heart broke immediately when I saw my schoolboy in his hands; he felt helpless. Without doubt, I knew he was guilty, but I needed to save him; after all, it was me, one of the high ranking students in school.
"Your school son had the audacity to remove my clothes from the line. He will be washing my clothes for this whole term." My classmate threatened. I knew he meant it, but I could not allow him to go ahead with his threat.
I looked at my school son and then my classmate, who was furious. He knew the boy was loyal to me, and I would get to know if he was under his punishment sooner or later. "I actually asked him to shift your clothes; they were almost dried and his clothes were wet."
"I don't believe you. You're always covering up for these boys." My mate retorted.
"Guy, I said I asked him to shift your clothes; if you have any problems, it should be with me." I retorted. At that point, my ego was threatened and bruised, and I needed to affirm my status. Even though I didn't send my school son, I was not ready to have my authority threatened.
"Let him avoid me." He said that and freed my schoolboy from his grip. My mate stormed out of the room, mumbling inaudible talks.
I turned to my schoolboy with a deadly look. As much as I loved him, I didn't appreciate him causing a rancor between myself and my colleague. He went straight to his knees and began to apologize. He seemed to have gotten my 'mumu' button, and he wasted no time on his knees.
"Don't ever repeat it again." I said sternly to him before dismissing him. I knew nobody stood up for me while I was a junior student. My school pop was the meek and gentle type; he could even donate me for punishments, but here I was, taking the fall for my junior.
It's been more than fifteen years now, but my relationship with that very school son has remained cordial, especially with his family members, including those I have never met till date.
Thank you for reading. I would love to have your comments and contributions.