The campus buzzed with excitement.
Exams were finally over, dousing students with the relief that came with it. Traumatized students packed their bags to head home for the long break; the last thing they wanted was to spend a second longer in the school after the grueling and traumatizing examination.
Ken was no different; relieved yet anxious, glad to be done with academic stress but uneasy about the future.
His phone buzzed. It was his father calling.
"Hello, Dad," he said, steadying his voice.
"Hello, Ken. How were the exams?" Came the eager voice on the other end, clearly filled with positive expectation.
"They went fantastic, Dad. I think I did really well," he lied, forcing a smile his father couldn't see.
"That's great to hear, son. We're proud of you," his father said warmly. The pride in his voice only deepened the weight of Ken's hidden anxiety.
"So, when have you decided to come home?"
"Saturday, sir. Very early. I'll leave my hostel for the bus park first thing in the morning so I'll arrive on time".
"Alright then. Take care. I'll send you some money before then".
"Thank you so much, sir".
After the call, Ken began packing. His thoughts drifted to Precious, his girlfriend of five years.
Though they'd been apart since he got admitted into university a year ago, their bond remained strong. Frequent WhatsApp calls and messages had kept them connected. Maybe it was exacerbated by the school stress and trauma, but he missed her deeply.
At eighteen, Precious was dark-skinned, petite, and beautiful, with a scent that lingered like a warm memory; a soft mix of vanilla and lavender.
Her smile could brighten the darkest of days. She was preparing for university herself, and Ken couldn't wait to be reunited with her.
…
Saturday arrived.
Ken finished packing before dawn. It was almost 4 am, time to prepare for the journey. He dressed quickly, double-checked his belongings, and stepped into the crisp morning air.
The chill was a welcome contrast to the harsh heat that would dominate the day later.
At the bus park, he purchased a ticket for a 14-seater white bus heading to Lagos. The journey from Delta State would take roughly ten hours. Flights were out of the question; his father, a middle-class salary earner, couldn't afford them. A long, bumpy road trip was the only option.
While waiting for the bus to fill, Ken noticed a dark-skinned young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Precious.
"Hey, are you heading to Lagos too?" He asked.
"Yes, I am". She replied, her smile warm and friendly.
"What's your name? Are you a student here?"
"I'm Jessica. And yes, I study here". She answered.
"Nice to meet you, Jessica. I'm Kendrick, but you can call me Ken. What department?"
"English and Literary Studies. And you?"
"Biochemistry," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
"Wow, that sounds tough. How do you like it?"
"It's… challenging, but I'm managing".
Soon, the passengers were called to board according to seat numbers. Ken glanced at his ticket, seat 14, the last seat on the bus. And as fate would have it, Jessica had seat 13.
They would be sitting side by side.
As everyone settled in, a middle-aged man poked his head through the window and addressed the passengers.
"Good morning, travelers. My name is Pastor Oghenetega Kome. I'm here to pray for you before your journey," he announced.
"May the Lord be with you. This bus shall not break down, there shall be no accidents, no kidnappings, no robberies. In Jesus' name we pray".
"Amen," the passengers chorused in unison.
"If you feel led to support the ministry, please do so quietly. God loves a cheerful giver," he added, passing around a small offering bowl.
Ken dropped some change in. It was a familiar Nigerian tradition; pastors offering prayers before long road journeys.
Superstition aside, with the state of the roads and the threat of armed bandits and kidnappers on the road, the prayers brought a sense of comfort.
As the driver started the engine, Ken made a quick call to his mother.
"Hi, Mom. I'm about to leave now".
"Alright, Ken. Be safe. Call when you're close to Lagos".
"I will. Love you, Mom".
He hung up and glanced at Jessica. She had earphones in, head leaning against the seat, eyes closed. Ken tried to rest, but a vague unease gnawed at him. Something about the journey didn't sit right. Still, he closed his eyes, willing the anxiety to fade.
As the buss rumbled onto the road, the early light cast long shadows, painting the streets in soft gold. The city stirred awake behind them.
"Do you have any siblings?" Ken asked, trying to distract himself by striking a conversation with his seatmate.
Jessica pulled out an earphone and smiled at him. "Yes, I have two elder brothers. You?"
"Just one younger sister," he replied, a proud grin on his face.
"Nice".
When the conversation seemed to be dying, Ken steered it in a new direction. "Do you have any hobbies?"
"I love reading and writing," she said, her face lighting up. "I want to become a novelist someday".
"Wow, that's amazing! Who are you favorite authors?"
"Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Chinua Achebe. Their works are powerful".
"You've got good taste," Ken said, genuinely impressed.
She smiled. "So, what about you? What do you love doing? You look like someone who loves football".
"I do," he said, brightening. "I used to play in a local football team before university. We trained a lot, went for competitions. It was fun".
"Do you play for the university's team?"
He shook his head. "No. my parents are against it. They want me to focus on my degree".
"And what's your dream?"
"To play for FC Barcelona". He beamed. "It's been my dream since childhood. Watching them dominate Europe from 2008 to 2015 was magical… but now they're just trash. I really hope they bounce back someday," he said with a wistful sigh.
Jessica chuckled. "It's not too late, you know".
"My brothers both play for Warri Wolves in the NPFL. It's not Europe, but they're doing well and living their dream. Little drops make a mighty ocean".
Ken stared at her for a moment, taking in her words.
Maybe, just maybe, his dream wasn't as far-fetched as he feared.