Chapter 3 (extract)

Plan B

Aaliyah once said something in one of her songs; if at first you don’t succeed, dust yourself off and try again. It has been running through my mind. I’m in my room and begin to pace. I have to go to this party. If I don’t go who knows what chaos it can cause in the future of time. I might lose my popularity. I might be so depressed I’d get a stroke. It could even affect me psychologically.

Time is running out. Start with the end in mind. I remind myself. But how do I do that now? Well, if there’s more than one way to kill a cat. I’d bet there is more than one route to a destination. I need an idea and fast!

I jump onto my bed and pick up my phone. I think about what my parents once said about me being ungrateful. They’ve given me so much. I sort of owe them something. At least gratitude would be enough for my modest parents. I shrug. I’m a teenager I’m meant to be ungrateful. I’m still training my mental prowess.

I clear my head of all thoughts. I select contacts on the cell phone. I scroll down the contacts menu. I select Jessica. I push the dial button. Soon enough, I’m connected.

Jessica: Hello?

Aseye: Jessica, what’s up?

Jessica: Nothing much.

Aseye: What do you mean ‘nothing much’? Are you going to the party or not?

Jessica: I wish I was Aseye, but my parents said no.

Aseye: We need to do something about this!

Jessica: Aseye, the sound of your voice tells me you are up to something.

I disconnect. The sound of your voice tells me you are up to something. I smile. Jessica’s right I am up to something. And this something is PLAN B; an action plan. I scrolled up the cell phone contacts menu. I searched Darryl. When I found it; I pushed dial.

Darryl: Hey baby! What’s up?

Aseye: Hi Darryl, we’ve got a problem.

Darryl: Why what’s wrong baby?

Aseye: My parents won’t let me go to the party.

Darryl: Well, that’s too bad.

Aseye: I know. We have to do something about it. I knew you had to go through a lot to get me and Jessica those tickets. I wouldn’t want to waste them.

Darryl: Aseye, I don’t know about that. I just think you should listen to your parents.

~I kissed my teeth. Listen to your parents, I’d rather escape from home. Escape from home… maybe I’ll do just that. ~

Aseye: Why? Are you scared you’ll get into trouble?

Darryl: No! I’m scared you, might get into trouble.

Aseye: Baby, a day without trouble for Aseye Mensah is like a day without oxygen.READ MORE

Chapter 2 (Extract)

Next up, I walk into the kitchen for the major part of the plan; the irresistible meal. I start cooking. I also start with the end in mind. I know what the end product will be; a delightful meal. I only wish it wouldn’t turn out to be a recipe for disaster.

I’m making my specialty which also happens to be a West African delight; jollof rice. I thought jollof rice meant the joy of rice. Speaking of rice; I begin with its preparation. As it boils in to a taste bud buffet, I make my stew. I’d already boiled and spiced up my chicken since it is essential to the success of my plan. I soften the chicken by boiling to make sure all the spices and pepper would sink in. I fry the chicken pieces in olive oil. After some minutes I have some golden brown chicken pieces. The KFC bird would be jealous. As my stew comes to a completion I add it to the rice and mix it uniformly by stirring. Maame, my kid sister, was also doing her own “stirring.” She was staring at me. I quickly drove her away. I sprinkle salt in the food and then moved on to make salad as I watch my creation take shape. I make vegetable salad next. Cucumbers, carrots, lettuces, cabbages, tomatoes, onions, cauliflower and peas all play an important role in my salad. I mix all these ingredients with mayonnaise. I look left, I look right, I look forward, and I look back. When I’m sure no one is looking I sprinkle my dad’s favorite wine on the chicken.

It’s almost noon. I can tell because I’m hungry. I presume those in my household are too. I’m going to make this hunger worse. At exactly noon, I take the fan from the hall quietly so I don’t distract Maame from her cartoons. I place the standing fun in the kitchen near the stove. I fix the fan in position. I open the windows leading to the hall. I take off the saucepan’s lid and set the fan on high. The mouth watering hunger invoking smell penetrated and diffused through the house. I set the dining table in anticipation. Hmmm… I’m smiling again. The food smells irresistible. I’m not just smiling about that; it’s a memorable feeling when everything you’ve planned comes together. I managed to get my mother to purchase most of these vital ingredients on the previous weekend. I’d done everything I set out to do. I really had the smile of accomplishment.

My smile got even wider when my little sister came back into the kitchen. She looked as sad as a hungry puppy dog. She quietly said; “Aseye, I’m hungry. Please I want some.”

“The food will be ready soon, Maame. Wait a few moments,” I said then winked. I was actually having fun.

The fact is that the food was already ready. I just wanted the process of diffusion to be complete. My mom entered the kitchen. Think fast Aseye, she’ll discover the plan. I dived towards the fan with the speed of light. Okay, I’m exaggerating but I quickly put the fan on rotate. I didn’t want it to seem I’d intentionally place the fan there. For an excuse I could say the kitchen is hot. We African woman always labor in front of the stove can’t we have little luxuries like fans?

My mother’s eyes were on me. I could feel the contraction of the ciliary muscles of her eyeball. Her lenses were growing bigger and I was the object in her full scope of vision. She I knew I was up to something. As to what exactly I was up to, I doubt she’d know. But I’m sure we both knew she’d soon find out. Tick Tock. I smiled again. To her knowledge, Aseye would never go out of her means to do something good and expect nothing in return. She was right. But my mother had had enough experience in life to give the benefit of doubt. She knew people could and can change. I wondered if she thought her oldest daughter had.

It took over me. I couldn’t help it. When my father and brother also entered the kitchen my face lit up. I was smiling like a kid in a candy store. Wait, I smiled more than Charlie when he went to the chocolate factory. My plan was working perfectly, no errors, yet. Something always goes wrong with a plan.

“Darling, what’s that delicious smell?” my dad asked no one in particular.

“Dad, forget the smell. I want food!” my big brother, Kweku, said.

“Me too,” little Maame seconded.

“Let’s all go in to the dining room. Aseye did a good job setting the table. I’m sure Aseye would serve us soon,” my mother suggested. They all slowly walked in the dining room. My mom was the last. She looked at me and winked. She then smiled and joined the rest. I thought; Aseye did a good job setting the table. How did she know I set the table? Why did she wink at me? Why was she smiling? Was I imagining stuff or was my mom just teasing me? Clearly, she was on to me. See All

Chapter 1

It was examination week. The air was cold and dry. Aseye Mensah has always been a procrastinator. I refuse to learn throughout the whole term. I prefer cramping all the material into the last week- the revision week. I learnt till sunrise each day. My average hours of sleep during the revision week were just four. Most of this was interestingly obtained in class.

The saying; “time flies” is no joke. It truly does. Here, I am on the first day of my 3^rd term or semester (as some would say) examination in my second year of junior high school. I’m writing English before lunch and Social Studies after lunch. Am I prepared? If for lunch, then yes. If for the exams, then I’m afraid I’m honestly not. In fact I have never ever been. It seems to me that examinations don’t match my chi. They aren’t my style. But I always manage to pull off good grades though these results are far from my potential.

I keep my bag in the cupboard. I walk into class; it’s really quiet. I swear you could hear a pin drop. Even if a pin fell; it would make eons of echoes. Though I’m thirty minutes early for the exam, there are a lot of pupils in the class already. I scan through the classroom. I spot a fair girl sitting in the corner of the class. I walked towards her. She turns back. She has a dazzling smiling on her face which reveals a dimple in her left cheek. Up close her fair skin was like suede and chocolate mixed evenly together. She had soulful dark brown eyes. She had a Rasta. I smiled back. She tilted her head back; I knew she was thinking about something. Read more