Erreur

The loud chatter and footsteps of boys moving up and down the passage slowly wake Tyler.

He slowly opens his eyes and sits up from his bed, letting out a yawn as he stretches his arms.

Then he reaches for his phone lying on the bed.

He picks it up and checks the time.

8:00 a.m.

Immediately, Tyler’s eyes widen.

“Shit,” he mutters.

He quickly jumps out of bed.

He grabs the bucket beside him, opens the wooden locker beside his bed, and pulls down the towel hanging from the door.

Without wasting another second, he rushes toward the door, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

He opens it and quickly closes it behind him.

Tyler hurries down the busy passageway toward the bathroom.

As he gets closer, he notices a few boys walking inside.

A small groan escapes him, and he quickens his pace.

He reaches the entrance and steps inside.

Then his eyes widen.

He lightly smacks his forehead when he sees a short line of boys waiting to fetch water from the bathroom tap.

“Oh God,” he mutters, moving closer.

Tyler stretches his neck forward, scanning the queue.

“One… two… three…” he quietly counts under his breath.

After counting, he straightens himself and waits.

The first boy places his bucket under the tap and begins filling it.

A few moments later, the bucket is full.

He lifts it and steps away.

The second boy immediately moves forward, placing his bucket under the tap and turning it on.

Tyler watches as the moments pass.

The second bucket fills.

Then comes the third.

Seconds pass as the water continues pouring into the bucket.

“Hey, hey, T-boy.”

A sharp voice calls from behind, echoing through the bathroom as footsteps slowly approach.

Tyler turns immediately.

“Ah, Vicky.”

His expression relaxes as he lifts his arm, already preparing for their usual handshake.

“Wassup na?”

“I dey oo,” Vicky replies with a small smile, raising his hand too.

Their palms meet in a loud, familiar handshake.

At that same moment, the third person in the queue turns off the tap, lifts his bucket, and walks away.

Tyler quickly grabs his bucket, steps forward, and places it under the tap.

He twists the handle.

Water rushes in.

Then he turns back toward Vicky.

“You get class this morning?” Tyler asks.

Vicky shakes his head, a playful grin slowly forming on his face. “Nope.”

“Enjoyment,” Tyler says, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“You get?”

“Guy…” Tyler sighs lightly. “I have test this morning… 8:30.”

“Hah.” Vicky lets out a short, playful scoff.

He glances at the tap, pointing at it.

“Your water go soon full.”

Tyler quickly turns back.

He reaches for the tap, switches it off, and lifts his bucket.

“Omo, later na…” he says briefly.

Without waiting, he walks toward one of the bathing areas, pushes the door open, and steps inside.

The door closes behind him.

“Faculty of Art.”

A large signboard stands at the entrance.

Outside the faculty building, the forecourt is alive with students.

Some lean against parked cars, others sit on the scattered stone benches, while many move in and out of the main building.

Tyler hurries across the forecourt, weaving through the crowd as he makes his way toward the building.

After crossing the open space, he enters the main building and steps into the courtyard.

The courtyard is just as busy.

Students occupy the benches, some sitting in groups while others move toward different departments.

Tyler continues through the crowded walkway, passing students, office doors, and classrooms until he finally reaches his own classroom.

Inside, the room is already filled with voices.

Everyone is seated, chatting with the people around them.

Tyler quietly makes his way through the narrow space between the rows and heads toward a four-seater desk at the back of the classroom.

At the four-seater desk at the back, Benjamin leans forward over the desk, one hand covering his mouth as he laughs quietly to himself.

“Chai… see time,” he teases, lifting his wrist to show his watch as Tyler approaches.

Tyler lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Guyyyy,” he laughs as he lowers himself into the seat.

Benjamin immediately shifts to the side, creating space for him.

“Lecturer never come yet,” he says with a grin. “You get luck.”

Tyler slowly settles into the seat. “Guy, guess what happened?”

Benjamin gives him a knowing look, already expecting the answer. “You overslept again?”

“I swear, bro…” Tyler says, trying not to laugh. “God save me today. I woke up around 8.”

He shakes his head at himself before both of them break into laughter.

Suddenly, a female lecturer walks into the classroom, a stack of books tucked under her arm as she makes her way toward the lectern at the front.

The chatter in the room slowly fades.

“Bonjour, Madame,” the entire class greets in unison.

She reaches the lectern and carefully places her books on top before opening one of them.

“Comment ça va?” she asks, flipping through the pages without looking up.

“Ça va bien, merci,” the class responds together.

“As you all know…” she begins, finally lifting her gaze toward the students, “you will be having your CA test today.”

She pauses briefly before continuing.

“Tear out a sheet of paper, write your name and matric number…”

She stops for a few moments.

The sound of papers being pulled from their pages fills the classroom.

“Have you all done that?” she asks, her tone becoming sharper as she looks around.

“Oui, Madame,” the students reply.

“Make sure you write your names and mat number ooo… because many of you like to stress me,” she adds, shaking her head slightly with mild frustration.

She scans through the classroom, watching as the students lower their heads and begin writing on their sheets.

“For the test questions,” she continues, “you are to write out ninety animal names… and things in French.”

Before she can continue, a female student seated at the front raises her hand.

“Madame, are we to write them in both French and English, or only French?” she asks.

The lecturer slowly turns toward her.

Her brows furrow.

“What kind of question is that?” she says, stepping away from the lectern slightly.

The student immediately shrinks back into her seat.

“You are in two hundred level…” the lecturer continues, her voice firm. “If you are still writing in English like you did in hundred level, how do you expect to learn French?”

“Désolé, Madame,” the student apologizes quietly.

“Mtchew.”

The lecturer shakes her head, clearly frustrated.

Then she looks back at the entire class.

“Start your test jor,” she announces.

The classroom immediately falls into silence as everyone begins writing.

A few minutes pass before soft murmurs begin spreading across the classroom.

The lecturer slowly lifts her head, her eyes moving around the room.

Her brows draw together as suspicion begins to settle on her face.

Suddenly—

“You!”

Her voice cuts through the room as she points sharply toward the back.

The classroom falls quieter.

Everyone turns, some students looking around in confusion as the remaining whispers fade.

“You!” she repeats, her voice firmer this time.

Tyler slowly raises his head.

He looks around, only to find several eyes already fixed on him.

“Jesus,” he whispers.

Beside him, Benjamin immediately lowers his head, trying to hide his laughter as his shoulders shake slightly.

Tyler slowly looks toward the lecturer.

“Ma… me?” he asks, pointing at himself.

“Yes, you. Go and sit over there,” she says, gesturing toward another desk across the room.

Tyler freezes for a moment.

Then, quietly, he begins gathering his things.

He stands and walks toward the front row, every step drawing more attention from the class.

Reaching the other side, he takes the seat two columns away from his previous one.

As he settles down, he notices someone sitting beside him.

But he barely pays attention.

He lowers his eyes back to his paper and continues writing.

A few minutes into the test, the classroom begins to change.

Some students are already finishing, placing their pens down, while others stare blankly at their papers, struggling to figure out their answers.

A few quietly lean toward their seatmates’ sheets, trying to steal quick glances.

“Pens up!” the lecturer suddenly announces.

Her voice cuts through the room.

Everyone freezes almost immediately.

The few students still writing quickly rush to finish their last words, their hands moving faster as she begins walking between the rows.

She moves from desk to desk, collecting the test papers one after another.