The Secret of Room C6

It was a sunny day. I was returning as a freshman to Babcock University for a second semester. The thought of it was dreadful. The sun beat down on the parking lot as I went to drag my box out of the boot of the car. My palms were sweaty, and the metal of the handle felt slippery. I tried to balance the box upright, but just as I pulled, my hand slipped. The box tumbled onto the ground with a heavy thud, and I heard a sharp crack. One of the wheels had broken off. “Great”, I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else. “Do you need me to stay with you, or should I go back home right now?” my mum inquired. I wanted to say the latter. The only difference was that I wanted to go with her too. I let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be fine, Mum.” “Love you, Amara.”, she said, giving me one last reassuring smile. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can.” With that, she turned and began walking to where the car was parked. I watched her go, my heart tugging at me to follow, but my feet remained planted where they were, heavy like stone. I stood there for a moment, that’s when I noticed a girl standing a few steps away. She was pretty. Her brown skin glowed under the sun, like she had just rubbed shea butter or Vaseline, her braids framed her face perfectly,and her body was thick in the right places. Her top was a simple fitted blouse, the kind you buy in Yaba market, and her slippers were so cute. They looked like the ones I saw Diana Eneje wearing on her t****k live yesterday. I caught myself staring longer than I meant to. “Hi”, I said, forcing a smile while adjusting the broken wheel of my box. “Do you know where we’re supposed to get our rooms?” She returned the smile warmly and pointed toward a large, almost run-down building at the end of the walkway. “That’s the Activity Hall. We’re supposed to check in there first.” “Thank you.”, I replied, feeling a little more at ease. I walked toward the Activity Hall, the sun beating down my back. As soon as I stepped inside, the cool air from the fans brushed against my skin. The hall was already buzzing. Students moving around with their parents, some dragging boxes, others clutching files and envelopes tightly like their lives depended on them. I mean it did in this case. Near the end of the hall, a woman in a neatly ironed Ankara dress sat behind a long plastic table. She had that no-nonsense look of someone who had been doing this job for years. Behind her were rows of plastic chairs filled with students and parents waiting their turn. Everyone had been given a number, and the woman’s assistant handed me a small slip with the number 12 written on it. I went to sit down, balancing my bag on my lap. The hall was noisy, filled with murmurs, and the occasional sound of a box being dragged across the floor. I tried to focus, but my eyes kept wandering, studying the other students. The first semester had been a complete shitshow, and I wasn’t about to start looking for friends or getting sucked into other people’s drama. I kept my gaze low, tracing the cracks on the floor tiles instead. “Number twelve!” the woman at the table called, her voice sharp and clear. I didn’t move. I was too distracted. The girl sitting beside me leaned toward me. “Hey, aren’t you 12?” she said, pointing at the paper in my hand. I blinked, realizing and quickly jumped up. “12 here, ma’am”, I called, rushing forward with an embarrassed smile. The woman gave me a quick look before reaching out her hand. “Receipt”, she said briskly. I bent down and unzipped my bag, Thankfully, Mum had already organized all my documents into files and neatly labelled each one in her careful handwriting. It didn’t even take me long to find the folder marked Receipts. I pulled it out, flipped it open, and handed over the right paper. The woman glanced at it, stamped something on it and slid a big hardcover book in front of me. “Write your full name here”, she instructed, pointing at a fresh line. I looked at the book. Two other names were already written above mine in hurried, scratchy handwriting. I picked up the pen and began to write slowly. First my full name, then my course of study. She tapped the page again. “Phone number. Your mum’s number, too.”I nodded quickly and scribbled them down, making sure each digit was clear. She took the book back with a nod. “Alright. You can settle in now. Your room number is C6. Your roommates are already in the room. Is that okay?” I nodded quickly, even though my chest tightened at the thought of sharing a space with strangers again. “Yes, ma’am.” She gave me a brief smile and pushed the slip toward me. “Good. Next!” Clutching the strap of my bag, I stepped aside, the noise of the hall growing faint as I tried to steady myself for whatever came next.