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20th August 2021.
Mrs Black hates Miss Grey. Everyone in the school knows about it. It's really dramatic in Geography when Mrs Black comes in to borrow something, like she did today.
Mrs Black walked into our class and asked to borrow the stack of whiteboards. Miss Grey said no, she needed them. Mrs Black said they were for ?for the department'. Miss Grey said she needed them for us in 10 minutes. Mrs Black can't have heard her because she started to pick them up and take them away, saying they were for the senior classes and that trumped the younger years. Miss Grey said she would speak to the Head Teacher, but Mrs Black was long gone. Last week it was coloured pencils and textbooks. Soon Miss Grey will have nothing left.
It's been going on a while. Mrs Black parks over two spaces to make sure Miss Grey can't get her car in the department spaces. They never sit together in the staffroom, not that we can see through the windows. At the charity bake sale, Miss Grey helped out the English department rather than Social Subjects which was weird. Come to think of it the Social Subjects lot don't really speak to Miss Grey.
I don't really understand. How could you be mean to Miss Grey? She's really nice to us in class. She's a good teacher- I never really liked Geography before but now it all makes sense. Miss Grey is really good at explaining things and encouraging me to write more. I got a D in Mrs Black's class last year. Mum was really disappointed. I hope I can do better this year.
I'm going to keep my eye on it. Miss Grey is still pretty new, she probably needs someone to look out for her.
1st September 2021.
Miss Grey held me back at lunchtime to finish an assignment, she said there were things needing tidied up. I was really annoyed! Stacey said she was going to go up to the shop to get a pot noodle and I knew she'd forget to get me one. Mrs Black came in while I was there. She was whispering to Miss Grey about some meeting she had missed and that she should check her emails more. Miss Grey stuttered but couldn't really get a word in, Mrs Black kept talking over her about how she needs to show more commitment and how unprofessional she is. Mrs Black slammed the door when she left.
I talked to Kevin about it after school. He said he saw Miss Grey running out the Department office on her phone, mumbling about her sandwich going missing. It all seems to be kicking off. I figured the Social Subjects teachers would be chill seeing as they spent so much time talking about people and stuff. Looks like they aren't so social.
2nd September 2021
I'm glad Miss Grey held me in yesterday. I got an A on my assignment. She really helps me and it's the best mark I've ever got. Mum is going to be really pleased.
6th September 2021.
Miss Grey was crying at lunch. Kevin saw her and came to get Stacy and me. He said that the History and Politics teachers had been taking more things from her classroom and Miss Grey asked them to stop. They had told her Mrs Black had approved it.
We hung about in the corridor trying to figure out if we should say something. She came out to see us, cause teachers have that weird sense when kids are about, and she asked if she could help. We didn't really know what to say so Kevin offered her a Jaffa cake. She gulped, sniffed, and took one from the plastic. Her thank you sounded so sad.
We left her, sniffing in her classroom. We weren't sure what was going on. Down the corridor in the department office there was laughing. We sneaked over, trying to look through the keyhole without being seen. Mrs Black was in there with the History and Politics teachers, laughing about something and stuffing their faces with cake. We thought we could hear them mention Miss Grey then laugh more, but we had to scarper before the janitors caught us.
10th September 2021.
Miss Grey was off again. That's 3 times this week. Mrs Black has had to cover the class and been slagging her off openly. It's really awkward. She said it was really irresponsible of her to leave us without work and making her do it. Some of the other kids started to egg her on, realising if they kept her talking then they wouldn't have to do any work. She fell for it. She started telling this story about how Miss Grey got really drunk at the Christmas Party and made a fool of herself. I didn't like hearing it, it felt like the sort of nasty gossip the popular girls spread. I tried to cover my ears with my jumper and kept labelling my maps.
13th September 2021.
Someone put up a poster of Miss Grey's face photoshopped all over wine bottles. I took it down when I saw it and put it in the bin. There were more of them in the Social Subjects corridor. Kevin said we should tell the teachers, in case it was one of the bad kids, so we took some up to the Social Subjects Department Office. Mrs Black answered the door and took the poster from us, saying she would tell the headteacher. We waited round the corner. The laughing was even louder than last time.
20th September 2021.
We haven't seen Miss Grey in a while. I feel like all the hard work I was doing is useless now. We just seem to be given worksheets and jotter questions, no one explains anything to us like Miss Grey did. We get the other social subjects' teachers on rota, the History one is the worst. He picks things from under his nails with a ruler and tells us Geography is just colouring in. That can't be true. Miss Grey taught us about weather systems and how meteorologists make predictions! That's not colouring!
Mrs Black doesn't seem to care. She cleaned lots of stuff off Miss Grey's desk, even the special pencil sharpener Miss Grey had- the one in the shape of a globe. I tried to say something to her and got told to mind my own business. I could only watch as it was thrown into the bin.
25th September 2021.
Mrs Black didn't realise her emails were being cast up onto the screen of the smart board today, the old fool. Of course, no one told her. It's far more fun seeing what she's up to. We saw her clicking her tongue while reading an email about workplace bullying. The teachers are supposed to be having a meeting about it tomorrow, kids are getting an extended lunch to compensate. I feel ill. I knew it.
I spoke to Kevin and Stacey at lunchtime. They are angry about it. Kevin says he saw Miss Grey at the corner shop last night, she didn't look very well. Stacey says she knows it's Mrs Black and her Social Subjects' cronies- they are always making jokes about her. Who knows what their problem is! We can't let her think she's won. We want Miss Grey back.
26th September 2021.
We have proof now. Kevin heard her on the phone to Miss Grey when he went to the bathroom. He said Mrs Black asked her how she was and yawned then said she didn't need to come back too soon as her job was easy enough for anyone to do. I knew it! Mrs Black is stopping us having our teacher. I hate the worksheets. I hate the cover. I want my teacher back! Mrs Black has to pay.
1st October 2021.
It's Friday. Stacey went to the corner shop last night and picked up a can of tuna. We sneaked into the Home Economic room at break to use a can opener. Mrs Black leaves really early on Fridays, probably because she doesn't care about school, or us, or Miss Grey. Kevin stood guard while Stacey and I put chunks of tuna down the back of her radiator. The school doesn't seem to turn the heating off over the weekend, so this should get really nasty.
4th October 2021.
That morning was gold. Mrs Black was SCREAMING in the hallways about the smell. She found hard pink chunks at the bottom of the radiator and figured it out pretty quick. The History teacher came running with the air freshener, trying to cover the stench with ?lily of the valley' but it didn't work. The other kids were gagging, refusing to go into the classroom. One boy even threw up into the bin.
I stared at Mrs Black, the evil old hag, as she flapped around bossing around the members of her little group. The Politics teacher was sent to fetch the janitor. The History Teacher was told to fetch the broom. She did nothing because she is lazy. I hate her.
She noticed me. She stared back. She marched over to me and asked what I was staring at. I asked her how Miss Grey was. She shouted at me. I stopped listening when I realised that she wasn't going to answer. One of the other boys heard me say Miss Grey's name. I looked at him and he put it all together.
?Hey Mrs Black, where is Miss Grey??
?Yeah, Why do you keep taking her parking space?? Another kid chipped in.
People were making the most of the chaos and shouting to ask the questions we had been thinking about for a while. She kept screaming at us to go and sit down. The vomiting boy wretched again and heaved into the bin. There were more questions-
?Was it your poster Mrs Black??
?Was she really drunk at the party or was it you??
?My mum said she saw you get kicked out the pub.?
?Why do you keep slagging of Geography??
She became flustered, lost without her minions around her. She turned around, not sure who to shout at first. She tried to mumble it wasn't true, but I don't think anyone was listening. She turned back to me. I scowled. Her face turned a deep red and she screamed into my face. GO. NOW.
We spent most of the afternoon in Mr. Henderson's office. To end up sitting with the Head Teacher is really bad. He said he had to call our parents. How were we supposed to know that there was a security camera in the hallway? Stupid Mrs Black. After a while he asked us why we did it. We told him all about the bullying- the posters and the laughing. We told him everyone knew Mrs Black was really nasty to Miss Grey. He listened.
I thought we were going to get shouted at but instead he sighed. He asked us why we didn't report it and we told him we didn't really know how. He said what we did was wrong, and we had to say sorry. Stacey was so angry! She said she wouldn't until we knew Miss Grey was OK. Kevin was quiet. He looked at Mr. Henderson and asked him if he had known. Mr. Henderson said it was an issue being dealt with. I was surprised, that's Kevin though. He has a knack for reading the adults. We asked him if we could send a card, ask if Miss Grey was ok. He said that would be nice.
Mum came to the school to get me, asked me if it was true. I said Miss Grey believed in me more than Mrs Black ever did. Mum surprised me, and instead of telling me off said:~
?I'm glad you did. That Mrs. Black has always been a right old cow. She chased out the last teacher and all.?
Mum took me to McDonald's. I even got ice cream. It didn't really feel like I was in trouble. I asked Mum why.
?Becky, what Mrs Black does is bullying, you knew that. Her and her clique make people feel small when really, they are the ones who are bad. You weren't happy last year, but this year? I don't know what Miss Grey did to get on that hags' bad books, but this isn't the first time I've heard of her picking on the new teachers. She thinks she runs the place.?
Mum laughed when I told her Mrs Black's reaction to the tuna. ?Well, you'll have knocked her off her pedestal that's for sure. She won't feel so safe picking on other teachers if she knows the kids are onto her. Good work? I mean. Please don't do it again.? Mum winked at me. I promised I wouldn't. ?Now then, how about you tell me more about that weather assignment where you got an A??
It begins with her ambling down the stairs leading to the living room, the way a girl one year away from thirteen would, when told that the school bus was five minutes away. The so far-unnamed girl's headed for breakfast. She pulls out a chair, reels it back underneath her and noiselessly plants her behind. There's a sleepy-eyed, hag-looking lady in old, frail pyjamas hunched over before an open fridge with no lights. The manufacturer is innocent; her and her husband aren't. She yanks out two gray bottles, one in each hand and waddles to the girl's side. The lady empties one bottle into an African calabash that's sitting in front of her. The cereal box beside the calabash gasps, watches with suspense and frustration.
?Get munchy, baby? the woman says as she walks across the room to settle in a sofa.
The girl screams, teary-eyed. ?Mum!?
?What, Salissa? What?" a hoarse voice punches out the lady's throat, her eyes wide open. She lowers the bottle, her chapped lips appear. ?What is it this time?? she waves.
?Dry gin, mum! This is dry gin!?
Her mother spits out some white liquid and examines the thing in her hand. ?Oh! Wrong bottle then?
But before more can be said, a terrible baritone shoots out from beneath the dinning table. OOH LA LA!
?Dad!? Salissa jerks. The bone of contention is tossed from Mum to the man yawning and stretching beneath the table, body supine. ?Alcohol? Again? You promised you'd stop, both of you? Salissa parries.
Beep! Beep!! Beep!!!
The bus arrives and she has eaten. She scuttles out the tiny parlor and exits the ever-open front door. Apparently, they'd left it that way the whole night ?not the first time. And even at the backyard, Heineken bottles have dethroned gnomes. Two bats in particular ?she calls them Rob and Juliet ?they pass the night on a regular in an open corner of the roof.
NORMAL lacked a salvage value, and Salissa was tired.
?Morning, Salissa? the driver says, remotely shutting the door behind her as she enters. The girl doesn't respond.
***
Forcados High School! She's in a noisy classroom, and it's mostly from the boys. In truth, even the quiet ones have been won over and are now shameless.
She's in uniform and has her face buried in her tiny hands as she sinks into a female teacher's embrace. She has the map of Africa travelling across her torso till it tapers into South Africa in between her knees. Who would do this to their own child she imagines, begging her to stop crying while she battles against her lacrimal glands. The noise in the class reaches a new world record ?with just thirty students. The principal passes by the corridor but chooses to be oblivious because he knows why.
?Really? Really?? Salissa squeals, her face bright. She pulls out of the Geography teacher's embrace and casts the focus in those watery eyes on her compassionate face.
Granitma had heard of her parents before, and even though she couldn't bring Salissa to agreeing with it, it now made perfect sense that once the school fees, books and bus fare were paid for, the rest went to alcohol. Poor girl! She mustn't wind up like them.
?You mean it? You'll pay for me?? she inquires again, sniffing and wiping her face off with her tiny hand.
?Yes, yes, yes. You're going to the Atlantika Mountains, Salissa? she reassures her.
?Jeez! Thanks Miss Granitma,? Salissa says, in a tight hug, dry tear streaks printed onto her face.
***
The class is on a hill top, with heir eyes rolled upwards.
?Ok, listen up,? the giant standing before them begins. ?I will be called Burrock Osama, no relation. Granitma and I, and these men,? he points towards two policemen. ?? will be guiding you as you roam these?mountains. I'm warning you, do not, I repeat, do not stray far from the group? he shouts.
Everyone stiffens, even Granitma.
?Now don't be too happy, cos you may mess up. But you're allowed to be sad and moody, for it'll keep you from danger? he adds.
Burrock glares past the morning sun, into their faces, perhaps searching for the one that rendered his goodwill speech as bullshit.
?Do you understand?? he thunders.
?Sir, yes Sir!? they exclaim, Granitma inclusive.
Miss Granitma motions to speak. A bit of nervousness crawls into her voice. Or could it be cold?
?Uhm, we are?we are standing in the land of the Koma people," she beams. "And do you know you're standing between Nigeria and Cameroon?? she heartily giggles. ?Isn't that exhilarating??
No one joins her, they stare blankly. Burrock has uninstalled the spirit.
***
Her name is Salissa and she's obviously the smallest in her class. It's 6:30pm already and all she can say so far is that it's been fun and laughter since morning, except for Burrock of course ? until she finds that she's lost the bracelet she'd inherited from the only sober family -grandma.
It's late and she's scared. They're on their way back to the school bus to pass the night before they leave tomorrow. She whispers to her best friend, Msendoo to cover for her. The small girl agrees.
Now she's regressing, slowly, slowly and starts searching for it, miles of dancing meadow spread into the distance yet to be combed.
Now she's far from the flock, from Burrock the good shepherd. She scans for red and blue. But the sun has rolled up its mat and is ready to go home to sleep, and visibility is three-quarters low. She lapses. She receeds. Until?
She lifts her head up and sees her. She drags a blink. Still there! A lady in a black ragged robe! Tall, skinny, blue eyes. She's anchored to Earth by the tips of her big toes on top of a tiny hill that isn't tiny. She's still but not her clothes or the wind that makes them flutter. The blue glow in her eyes grows intense. Is she angry? Who is she?
?Jesus Christ!? Salissa screams. ?Who are you? Helloooo!"
She's quiet, doesn't respond. Her scaly hands become balls of fists and her pointy nails are studded in them.
WHOOSH!
She dashes down the gentle slope. Her ragged gown flickers madly. Salissa looks around her. The terrain's changed, the greens are gone, she's in a canyon. The soil is super dry and the sun's returned to the middle of the sky to watch. ?What reality is this?? she voicelessly pines. The woman draws near and she's dead stiff, overwhelmed with fear, as straight as a stick. Why can't I run? Why can't I speak? The humanoid figure grabs Salissa, whisks her head so that her long hair independently wraps her torso. The strange lady zigzags, slithers up a wall, dragging her along and climbs into a cave.
Burrock! Burrock!! Salissa's mind echoes.
***
She's in a cave, a bioluminescent kind. She lays on a giant sandstone slab like it's her bed at home, save for the raffia straps across her legs, wrists and neck. There's a pool meters away, reflecting the green glow back to the bacteria on the walls.
?Hello,? someone whispers in her ear . It sends recurring chills down her spine. The sandstone bed feels it. The strange lady appears, head arched above hers. The blue glow in her eyes persist, and they are not contact lenses.
?Please Ma'am. Please,? Salissa pleads. ? I don't want any trouble. I need to??
?Wait, wait, wait,? the strange lady begins, treading to a corner. ?I'm not interested in harming you, Salissa. All I want is my son?
?How do you know my name??
A string of paintings travel across a section of the walls. She wipes a section clean with her scaly hands. ?It's the prophecy. Salissa is born to save my son?
Salissa wriggles to look at her.
?What? I don't know what you're talking about. What's that got to do with me? Please ma'am, I just want to go back to my teacher. I'll forget about the??
?Bracelet?? the lady interjects, pulling it out from her clothes and tossing the noose of red and blue beads onto Salissa's chest. She wipes off one more painting. ?I'm happy that the gods did not lie. Now my son will be back?
She crunches her way to Salissa's side. Her big toes are very much vertical.
Salissa blows a frustrated sigh. ?I don't understand?
?There's no time to explain. Look,? she points, out of Salissa's field of view. "The moment you've saved my son, I'll have wiped those off also?
?I still don't get why?? Salissa begins, but is cut short. Her forhead's been pinned down to the sandstone by the lady's index and middle fingers.
The girl's thoughts are no longer her own, but hers. Salissa's face stiffens expressionlessly. West Africa is zoomed upon, it's plagued by the presence of prehensile-tailed humans ? the Akanaki. Forest ground appears and a normal human boy slithers into the picture. He's hiding, behind a giant ball of granite, blue-eyed, on his big toes, just like his mother. He's scared.
An Akanaki appears, leans over, straightens to a full twelve feet, his clawed hand in the boy's neck, his pointy ears, staring away. The helpless kid moans, craves for air. Without notice, the Akanaki flings his tail upward and points it in his face. Poww! He shoots, the sound of a silenced pistol. The pointy end of his regenerative coccyx is impinged on the boy's face, who drops dead on the mushy forest floor and the creature disappears to join the herd afar off. The boy's mother arrives minutes later. Tears from her bleeding eyes trickle down her cheek and wash down the blood off her son's disfigured face.
?What was that?? Salissa heaves, hyperventilating.
?There's no time, Salissa?
A gourd, half as dark as her ragged clothing sits in-between her fingers.
?When you drink this, you'll no longer be here. I mean, your mind, your consciousness?
?You should untie me first? Salissa demands.
?Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm sending you back to the past. That will keep you from acting out your??
?Why me? Why? I don't want to. Let me go!? she squirms.
?The prophecy, Salissa,? she says, addressing the wall paintings. ?You're the only one worthy enough. The past accepts only you. Save my son. You have to stop that from ever happening?
?Why always me!?
?Open your mouth, Salissa. I need you? the lady insists.
?Alright. Alright. At least tell me your name?
?Open your mouth, girl? she snaps. Time is of the essence.
?You're in a hurry alright, but I won't help you if you don't, at least, TELL ME YOUR NAME?
Seconds pass, but she succumbs.
?Mu?Mu??
?Can't hear you?
?Muthana, okay. Muthana?
?Like Hannah Montana? Or??
?Huh? Who's that? Mu?tha?na!?
?Alright Muthana,? Salissa's says. ?I'll do it. But there's a lot I still don't understand?
Muthana smiles, unveiling her spiky teeth. ?Girl! Once I've sent you there, I'll explain"
***
?What do you see, Salissa?? Muthana says, holding on to her tiny hand.
?Him. Your son? she responds, but her lips don't move, just a voice in Muthana's head.
Salissa opens her eyes and it's 10,000 BC West Africa. She's no longer small, nothing is. Not her pointy ears nor her furry legs, or the thick, long tail wiggling independently behind her.
?Whoa, Muthana,? she covers her mouth. ? I'm an Akanaki?
?Yes. There's some Akanaki in the potion I gave you? Muthana replies, in her head.
?But why??
?Because, if the soles of your feet touch the ground, they'll find you?
Salissa nods in affirmation. ?And unlike your boy and the humans of this time, I still haven't learnt to do that yet?
?Exactly, now be careful. Make sure he doesn't freak out. Those things can hear. Run as fast as you can with him to this cave we're in. In that timeline, the cave hasn't been formed yet so...?
?What, Muthana?? Salissa inquires.
?You'll have to punch your way in. That's all. Run away with him, climb, punch?
She inches closer right behind the scared lad. She's slower the closer she gets. If he freaks out, the herd afar off will hear, or perhaps his killer would arrive sooner than he is supposed to.
Gosh! No wonder! A red streak abuts on his bloody toes. His legs are shaky; the soles of his feet are eager to kiss the ground one last time. The boy grips tightly on the rock in front of him. He pines. If only mum were here. She was stronger. She'd just lift me up so I can rest awhile, while she endured, like she'd always done since the invasion. If his soles touch the ground, he's dead.
?Are you close to him? Hello! Hello!?
Salissa's too focused to answer. This thing doesn't work with firm lips. Her silent whisper can now be heard. She sights a raffia strap; quietly, she lowers, picks it up and leans forward.
?Hi,? she quickly hauls the boy up into the air and wraps her hand tightly over his mouth. The little thing struggles to break free. She tries to explain in whispers. How do you explain to a normal kid that you're a good Akanaki. ?Hey! Hey!! Hey!!! Your mother sent me. Your mother sent me. I'm not one of them. I'm not??
He doesn't understand a single word she says. Ooooh! Silly me. The British haven't colonized us yet. She thumps his head, he's not moving; he's unconscious. The raffia does a good job in keeping him straddled to her back. She runs.
***
She'd been told by Muthana to clap ten times when she reached the part of the meadow where she'd been abducted for the cause. All greens in front of her begin to disappear. Now she's running at thirty-five miles per hour, the speed of an average Akanaki. Jets of wet forest sand are transformed into dry canyon sand as they shoot behind her, into the faces of the hundreds like her trailing behind in hurt pursuit. There's deadly zeal in their eyes. Why betray us?
Pieces of long pointy coccyx bones begin piercing the air. One traverses her scapula. One severs the raffia strap, but she catches him with one hand and continues taking strides with the other.
?What now, Muthana?? Salissa barks. Sweat bathes her face. Grime clings to her body as the chase gets even more violent. She's been shot twice on her spine. Her tail arches backward and she retaliates as well.
Her focus on the canyon walls vacillates. Finally. She spots it, slides along the sand to a great halt.
?Jeez, Muthana. The entrance hasn't been formed yet?
?Well punch a whole in it. Do it, fast!?
At least its erodible sandstone. Salissa musters her strength, jaws firm, face stern ? Burrock should've been here to learn. She begins the climb. Outcrops of frail sandstone outcrops shatter under her sturdy, keratinized feet. Her left hand is occupied with holding the child. She's halfway up already, stabbing the surface with the tip of her fingers, embedding her feet into the crevices her kicks create. Scores of Akanaki are catching up with her. One gets hold of her legs.
Thump! Thump!! Thump!!! She punches.
A cavity appears and she pulls herself in. She plummets down. Humid air blows past her long Akanaki body; her back slams on the cave's uneven floor and Muthana's boy lands safely on her chest.
?Muthana!? she cries. ? I'm in?
***
?Oh Salissa, thanks,? Muthana says, ripping the straps off of the little girl's body with her nails. ?You've made me the happiest mother?still alive?
Salissa squirms, lowers her head to the ground, pukes. Since she'd said YES to her, she'd been wondering how the boy was ever going to make it to the present. But it's happened anyway, hasn't it?
?Jesus Christ! You yanked him, OUT OF MY MOUTH, WHILE THEY EAT MY BODY!" she gags.
The boy clings tightly to his mother's little finger. He mutters an unknown tongue.
?He says ?thank you'? Muthana beams.
***
One week's passed. She ambles down the stairs leading to the living room and the school bus is five minutes away. She picks the least-wobbly chair, reels it underneath her and noiselessly plants her behind. Mum is not in front of the light-deficient fridge, pulling out two bottles. The uniformed girl throws a kick beneath the dinning table, but Dad isn't there. The breeze flooding in the ever-open front door informs her that there's some bubble gum and a note on the door of the fridge. Salissa kicks backwards, the chair squeals. She holds it still, examines it. The words are written in crayon and the owner of the handwriting is to be pitied. She reads:
Look Salissa, I and your father are gone to Lagos for a wine convention.
?Wine Convention? What does that mean?? Her brow furrows.
I know we've talked about this, but just in case there's an excursion before we get back, you're NOT allowed to go. Lost, and stuck in quicksand - how?
There's a crate of Sardines in the fridge and some itsy bitsy mouldy bread right beside it. You'll be alive until we're back on a Saturday. Have fun. Love ya!
MUM
Salissa rises and mounts the table. A harmless tantrum is about to be birthed. She's a year away from thirteen but does she care? She has to do this. A pair of Mary Janes are planted on the table surface and her head is inches away from the ceiling fan working really hard, but in slow-motion. She screams.
?This?is? my worst?nightmare!?
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