The Blanket


_Chapter 1_

*Zeedah’s pov*

“”I’m getting jealous already””

I sing along to the music on my new Samsung S5. _Jealous_  by fireboy played as I moved my head and hips allowing the rhythm flow through me. This was one of my favourite songs.

“I am getting  addicted oh baby” I continue singing as I climb the flight of stairs to the 6th floor of the building where my lecture hall is located.

I spot my best friend, Sola, in the hallway who was speaking in hushed tones to the class governor, Dami. They seem tense; I tug on Sola’s hair.

“OW!” She whipped round. “What the Hell?” her nose flared, but she turns into a smile as she realises I’m the one responsible for the action.

“Girlfriend! Sup! Woke from the wrong side of the bed? Why the face?” I ask? “Morning Zee, Later things”, She replies.

I shake my head at her but envelope her in a hug. Sola is my best friend, We have been friends since ND 1 more like sisters in fact, she was the first person I interacted with when I just got in as a mass communication student in the Yaba college of technology, popularly known as Yabatech. We have our ups and downs yet we still make it through.

“Witch, how far?”
I turn to see Dami’s lips twitch up in a smirk. I couldn’t hide my smile, but hug him too. I know all he wanted was to feel the softness of my breast.

“Lecturer dey come ooo Dr Charles…Agba bo” those were the voices I hear down stairs. I pull away from him and give him a few taps on his shoulder. He smiles as we walk back into the hall.

The hall is full and rowdy. I guess nobody wants to miss Dr Charles  lecture on Investigation, Reporting and Writing; who knows, there  might be a test.

Dr Charles, a dark average man of principles, walks in with an aura of confidence and authority. The once rowdy hall immediately becomes so silent that if a pin dropped, it would be heard without difficulty. It just shows how much the students fear him.

“Good morning communicators, welcome back from your short break. Hope you relaxed well?” “This is the final lap or what most of you here would call semester  before you become an ND graduate.” He continues, “That which You all know you need, which is your priority the reason you are still here– that certificate. For those of you that have  relaxed, wake up! For the straight A’s kudos, no more slacking. For those on the other side, walk through the right path. Hard work! That’s all I would say on that.”

He straightens up and brings out the textbook which he uses to teach us. “Bring out your writing materials” he says, “let’s take the course outline.”

After 25 minutes of explaining the course outline, Dr Charles steps out of the class and the once silent class becomes rowdy one. The first days of a new semester is always the worst. Everyone talking about what they have been up to, what new music had just been released, students sitting on the tables rather than the chairs with their legs hanging out. A typical higher institution setting.

We have various groups in the class; the front seat lovers– this set comprises serious and religious minded students, Rezi and genzs; as I like to call them, a small click of gossipers, De sports analysts; correcting, predicting and arguing endlessly especially on football. I overhear them saying Ronaldo is a better player than Messi, why would they say that? Fashion cops; their aim of attending classes is to critically analyze communicators’ fashion sense. The Uncalled four; a set of Classic babes, who have it all, intelligence,craziness, fashion sense and to mention but a few.

Spy and Irae; rival gang, both see themselves as the next nigerian sensitional artist, triple t’s A.K.A Trouble some t’s. triumvirate, friends like brothers,  men of valour, face of the communicators.

Still scanning through the hall, my eyes meet his chocolate brown eyes that reflect happiness radiating from them. I smile. My dearest crush; Deep down, to him, I know I don’t exist. Damn! It’s going to be one hell of a semester.

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