The sun always seemed too eager in Lagos. It was only 7:30 a.m. but the heat was already creeping through the school gates, bouncing off the concrete walls and making Tomiwa's white shirt cling annoyingly to her back. She adjusted her tie, muttering under her breath.
"First day of SS3 and I'm already sweating like they poured garri water on me."
"Don't worry joor, you'll still slay," Zara's voice cut through the noise of students rushing in. Zara never walked fast; she strolled like the world was waiting for her. Her hijab was neatly pinned, not a fold out of place, and her sandals tapped against the pavement with the kind of confidence Tomiwa wished she had.
Tomiwa rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You're just saying that because you don't have sweat patches on your uniform."
"Please, abeg. Nobody is looking at your armpit. They're looking at your fine face. Don't stress." Zara bumped her shoulder playfully as they entered the assembly ground.
The air was heavy with the chatter of students — some still dragging holiday gist, others complaining about the new timetable. Teachers stood at the corners, already looking tired.
Tomiwa scanned the crowd. She noticed the SS2 students whispering and pointing at her and Zara. It wasn't the first time. Everyone knew they were an unlikely pair — a Christian girl and a Muslim girl, always together like twins. Some people respected it, some just gossiped.
"Look at them," Zara whispered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Acting like we're enemies from birth. If only they knew you're the only person who helps me pass Mathematics."
Tomiwa chuckled. "If only they knew you're the only person who makes me laugh when I'm about to cry."
The assembly bell rang, cutting their conversation short. Students lined up in their classes, murmurs settling into silence as the principal climbed the podium. His voice echoed, stern and commanding.
"Welcome to a new term. SS3 students…" His eyes scanned their row like a hawk. "…this is your final lap. WAEC is waiting for you. Your attitude, your focus, your discipline will determine what becomes of you."
Tomiwa swallowed hard. The word WAEC felt heavier than her school bag. She wasn't scared of exams — not really. But something about this year felt different. Like everything that mattered was beginning now.
Beside her, Zara sighed dramatically. "Oya, see our lives. No more soft girl era. Just textbooks and stress."
Tomiwa smiled faintly, but deep inside, she wondered if Zara was right.
This was the first day of SS3. The day her story would begin to change.
The assembly dissolved into chaos as students hurried back to their classrooms. The corridors buzzed with chatter, the slap of sandals on tiled floors, and the occasional warning shout from a prefect.
Tomiwa and Zara slipped into their SS3 Commerce classroom, sliding into their usual seats at the middle row. The desks were scarred with years of carved initials, broken rulers, and scratched-out love notes. The windows let in too much sunlight, dust motes dancing in the rays.
"SS3 Commercial class," Zara muttered as she dropped her bag with a thud. "Ehn, we better become billionaires after this term because the stress is already giving headache."
Tomiwa laughed, fishing out her notebook. "You just want to be rich so you can marry a fine Yoruba demon."
Zara gasped dramatically. "God forbid! I want a man that will cook indomie for me when I'm tired. If demon cook indomie for you, he will poison you."
They both burst into laughter loud enough to make the boy in front of them turn around.
"Una never change," he said, shaking his head with a grin. It was Sola, the class clown who somehow always scraped by with average grades. His shirt was untucked as usual.
"Face your front, Sola," Zara shot back, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same.
Before Tomiwa could add her own jab, the door creaked open and their Economics teacher, Mr. Ade, walked in with his ever-serious face. The chatter instantly died down. Everyone knew Mr. Ade didn't need a cane; his glare alone was enough to humble you.
"Good morning, class."
"Good morning, sir," the chorus came, half-hearted but respectful.
"Welcome to SS3. I will not lie to you — this is not a joking matter. Those of you who want to play, you can carry your bags and go back to SS2. But if you are serious about passing WAEC, you will listen to me. Clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
Tomiwa scribbled the date in her notebook, pretending to focus, but her mind wandered. She glanced around the class, noticing new students who had transferred in for their final year. Some looked nervous, some already confident.
Her eyes paused on one boy near the back — tall, quiet, with a serious expression like he'd seen life beyond textbooks. He didn't laugh at Sola's jokes or join the small talk. He just sat there, observing.
Zara leaned over and whispered, "New boy alert. See as he's forming mysterious."
Tomiwa suppressed a smile. She didn't want to admit it, but she was curious too.
Mr. Ade's voice boomed again, dragging her thoughts back to reality. "Now, open your notes. We are starting immediately. WAEC will not wait for you."
Tomiwa sighed, flipping to a clean page. This was SS3. No more excuses. No more soft girl era. And maybe — just maybe — this was the beginning of stories she didn't even know she was about to write.