NEW GIRL, OLD RULES

The rain was pouring.  

My ₦2 million Louboutins were ruined.  

And my driver just called me "aunty".  

"Get in the bus, Zee!" Tomi shouted over the noise, pulling my arm. Her own uniform was already soaked, but she was laughing like this was fun.  

I hesitated. The yellow Danfo in front of us smelled like wet cloth, sweat, gala, and pure panic. People were squeezed inside like sardines. A woman was holding a baby. A man was arguing with the conductor.  

If only they knew I own the transport company that owns this bus. If only they knew I could buy this entire park with the money I spend on shoes in one month.

My name is Zainab Bello.  

My father owns Bello Group.  

Net worth: ₦500 Billion.  

I have 3 iPhones. A private jet. A mansion in Banana Island with 7 cars in the garage and a swimming pool I’ve never swam in.  

Last week I was eating sushi in Dubai and complaining that the WiFi was slow.  

But today, I have ₦500 crumpled in my pocket, one torn uniform from Yaba Market that doesn’t fit right, and a lie that could destroy everything.

"Zee, are you coming or not?" Tomi rolled her eyes. "First day and you want to be late? Madam Bisi will send us back home and my mom will kill me."

I took a deep breath. The smell of rain and fuel hit me. I climbed in. The seat was wet. A boy next to me was eating gala and pure water, and the pure water had leaked all over.  

For the next 6 months, I’m not Zainab Bello.  

I’m just "Zee". Poor girl. Nobody.  

My father’s words were still ringing in my head from last night. We were in his office. Marble floors. Air conditioning. He didn’t even look at me.  

_"Zainab, you want to take over Bello Group when I retire? Then understand real people. Live like them. Suffer like them. Walk like them. Or you get nothing. I’ll give the company to your uncle Tunde. He’s hungry for it."_

Nothing.  

6 months.  

That’s the deal.

"Mom cried," I had said.  

"Your mother will understand," he replied. "This is business."

So here I am. Government Day Secondary School, Ilorin.  

No bodyguards. No iPad. No driver waiting with chilled juice and my favorite snacks.  

Just me, Tomi who I met 10 minutes ago at the bus stop, and the biggest secret in this city.

The bus jerked forward and my heart jumped into my throat. I gripped the iron bar until my knuckles turned white. My hands were shaking.  

"You’ve never taken public transport before, have you?" Tomi laughed, noticing. She wasn’t mocking me. She sounded... excited for me?  

I forced a smile. "First time for everything."

She nodded and started telling me about the school. "Madam Bisi is wicked. She’ll flog you for breathing wrong. Mr. Dele teaches Maths and he’s fine but married. And stay away from Amara's group. They think they own the school because their parents have money."

Amara.  

The name made my stomach twist.  

I looked out the window. Ilorin was passing by. Not the parts I knew. Not the GRA with big gates and security. This was the other Ilorin. Shops with faded signs. Children hawking sachet water. Motorcycles splashing water everywhere.  

Was this what my father meant by "real people"?  

Was this what he wanted me to see?

30 minutes later the bus stopped with a screech that made everyone shout and hold their bags.  

Government Day Gate. Cracked walls. Faded paint. One big mango tree in the middle of the compound with branches hanging low. Hundreds of students running in the rain, shouting, laughing, uniforms soaked.

It was chaos. It was loud. It was... alive.  

Nothing like British International with its silent corridors and air-conditioned classes.

Tomi grabbed my hand. Her palm was warm and rough. "Come on, bestie. Let’s show them we’re not scared. SS2A is this way."

We pushed through the crowd. Water splashed on my ankles and soaked up to my knees. Someone bumped me hard and I almost fell. A girl apologized without looking at me.  

That’s when I felt it.  

Eyes on me. Heavy. Watching. Like pins on my back.

I turned slowly, my heart already racing.  

Across the compound, leaning against a black Benz that cost more than this entire school and probably the teachers' salaries for a year... was Amara.

Amara Bello. No, not related. But same last name and same wickedness.  

My old classmate from British International School.  

Her hair was laid with baby hairs. Designer bag. Full makeup even in the rain. iPhone 15 Pro Max in her hand. She looked like she walked out of a magazine.

And she was staring directly at me.  

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips curved into that ugly smile I remembered from when she stole my project in JSS3 and told the teacher I copied her.

My stomach dropped to my feet.  

If Amara tells anyone who I really am, this whole thing is over.  

6 months. Gone. The company. Gone. My father’s respect. Gone.

Breathe, Zee. Breathe.

Tomi didn’t notice. She was already dragging me toward the SS2A block, jumping over puddles. "Zee, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I forced a laugh. It sounded fake even to me. "Just... nervous. New school and all. Big change."

But inside, my heart was pounding so loud I was sure people could hear it.  

Because Amara was walking toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Like a cat playing with a mouse.  

And she had her phone out. Recording? Taking pictures? Zooming in?

"Hey Tomi," I whispered. My voice was barely there. "Can we... can we use another door?"

"Why?" Tomi frowned, stopping. Rain was dripping from her hair into her eyes. "That’s the only way to our class, Zee. And we’re gonna be late."

We were 10 steps away now. 5 steps.  

I could see Amara’s screen. She was definitely zooming in on my face. On my cheap uniform that was 2 sizes too big. On my soaked shoes that used to cost more than her bag.

"Zainab?" Her voice cut through the rain. Sweet and deadly and loud enough for people to hear.  

"Is that you?"

My blood froze.  

Tomi stopped walking. "You know her?"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. My throat was dry.  

Because if I said yes, Amara would ask why I’m here in this uniform.  

If I said no, Amara would expose me in 2 seconds and laugh while doing it.

Amara took another step closer. Rain dripped from her pink umbrella onto my head. She didn’t move it to cover me.  

She tilted her head like she was confused. "Funny. You look just like someone I know. A very rich someone. Her father owns like, half of Nigeria."

People around us started looking. Whispering.  

"Who is she?"  

"Is that Zainab Bello?"  

"No way, she’s supposed to be in British International."

Tomi was looking at me now. Confused. "Zee?"

I opened my mouth again. "I... I don’t..."

The bell rang.  

Loud. Screaming. Saving me.

Students scattered like ants, running to class, but the whispers didn’t stop.  

Tomi grabbed my hand again, tighter this time. "We’ll be late! Come on!"

I let her pull me away, but not before I heard Amara’s last words behind me, quiet but clear, meant only for me:  

"I’ll find out, Zee. And when I do... everyone will know what a liar you are."

I didn’t turn back.  

But my hands were shaking so bad I had to hide them in my pockets.

Class SS2A was crowded. 45 students. Broken chairs. Ceiling fan spinning slowly and making a creaking sound. The walls had posters of WAEC formulas and one faded picture of the president.  

Tomi pushed me to an empty seat at the back near the window. "Sit here. Teacher likes this spot. She can’t see you if you’re sleeping."

I sat down. My uniform was soaked and sticking to me. My heart was still racing like I’d run a marathon.  

The teacher walked in 2 minutes later. A short woman with glasses and a ruler in her hand. "Good morning class."

"Good morning ma," 45 voices answered.

"We have a new student," she said, looking directly at me. "Stand up and introduce yourself."

45 pairs of eyes turned to me. 45 judgments. 45 questions.  

I stood up. My legs felt like jelly. The floor felt like it was moving.  

"My name is... Zee," I said. My voice came out steady. I was proud of that. "Zainab... Zee. I just transferred from... another school in Lagos."

More lies.  

More secrets.  

The weight of it was crushing me.

"Sit down," the teacher said. "Welcome to Government Day."

I sat down.  

And from the window, I saw Amara outside. She wasn’t in class yet. She was still on her phone. Still smiling.  

Still watching me.  

She lifted the phone and pointed it at the window. At me.

A text popped up on my old Tecno phone that my father made me use. Unknown number.  

_I know who you are. - A_

My stomach dropped again.

_But then the teacher wrote on the board: "Pop Quiz. First period. 20 questions. No notes."_

And I realized something worse than Amara.  

I hadn’t studied anything.  

I didn’t know any of these topics.  

And if I failed on Day 1, Tomi would think I’m stupid.  

And Amara would have even more to laugh about.

I looked down at my ₦500. At my torn uniform. At my shaking hands.  

6 months.  

That’s all I had.  

_But then the girl next to me whispered, "Psst. Do you want to copy?"_

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*END OF CHAPTER 1*