Young Writers Society

   It doesn’t rain much in February around these parts, so I get to go out with Peter and his friend Nonie and indulge in a number of experiences I would otherwise never have experienced at my real home. I came to stay at Peter’s soon after attending my cousin Patrick’s surprisingly beautiful and well attended wedding to his Muslim wife and for the better part of my visit and stay here, I’ve spent more time outdoors riding bikes, swimming in rivers and playing football. Nonie, who happens to be Peter’s immediate neighbour and childhood friend, has also awakened my love for cooking by inviting us to spend Saturday evenings at her home, where we help her with cooking whatever meal we decide on for dinner. All this has surely been pretty exciting, but nothing has really lifted my spirits more than the letter I found hanging out of Peter’s mom’s hand when we came back from swimming and riding bikes yesterday evening. She’d been to our school to see about Peter’s admission for Form Five and she’d come by the letter rather accidentally.

It was directly addressed to me and was from a boarding school in the city. To be more specific, it wasn’t just any boarding school. The name below the badge in the left corner of the white envelope was St Mary’s College Kitebi, and it took me less a minute to remember where I’d last seen it. It was on those applications forms for A level schools that I handed in late, and I remembered having placed it as my first choice for merit admission should I get the marks required in my final exams. Peter’s mom asked me then to open and see what it said, and I must admit I haven’t felt that anxious and unsure of myself in a long time. Sure, the letter was addressed to me in person as shown by the formal greeting in it that bore my name and it was only minutes later after taking in all its contents that I realised what was happening to me. It couldn’t be true! It just couldn’t be happening! Suddenly everyone was all over me with congratulations and pats in the back and I could have replied their smiles and hugs with even bigger smiles had I not been too stunned to speak.

The letter announced my admission on merit to the school, which I’d read of and heard of so much that I’d practically started dreaming of how studying in it felt like. It was just exactly like I’d hoped it would be. For once, my dreams were coming true. I was leaving St John’s to join a better traditional school in the city for my A levels, and I was joining on merit! How could I want anything else? I only wished then that Ma could be around to give me a big hug and remind me how we got only what we deserved and that I’d earned myself something to be proud of. But she could never be around, and so I let that wish pass.

The only part of the letter that I didn’t like was the one that required a parent to sign in consent to and as a witness to my admission. That cut out any of Peter’s parents or any other relative I preferred and left only one person-Dad. Speaking of Dad, I haven’t seen or talked to him in months. I frown at hearing at his voice and the sight of him appalls me so much that I take every moment I can get away from home as a golden opportunity. That is essentially why I am so happy about this letter. By joining a boarding school, I will not only stop coming back home to housework every day after school, but will also be saved from living in such proximity with Dad, who I still can’t at without feeling sick. I can always have my holidays at Peter’s and visit Lydia whenever I want. The only thing I have to do now is to get him to sign my papers which will set me free. But I wonder if he will accept. It’s no secret that I detest my father. It may sound rude and bad mannered but I definitely have my reasons and evidence to prove everything I hold against him.

My name is James, or Jamie as everyone calls me and I am the first born in a family of two, or three if you count my half sister Sara as my sibling. Lydia, who’ll be fifteen in March comes right after me and is two years younger. Sara is only three, and that’s as much good as I can say about her. Ours is one of those middle income families living in a respectable neighbourhood, with a nice house and a car to complete the suburban look. But to be more exact, that is how life used to be. A lot has changed in our lives since last year.

You see, Last December, my father killed my mother. I saw him do it.

This is an excerpt from my novel, There is a Reason You Must Hate Me, https://www.amazon.com/There-Reason-You-Must-Hate-ebook/dp/B01IWH24WY, available for free on Amazon from August 5 to August 9. Drop by and leave a review! Thanks!