A teen at sixteen

I turned 16 on a Tuesday. No party. No cake. Just my mom shouting “Wake up! You’ll be late for school!” while the ceiling fan in my room spun like it was tired of my life. Sixteen is supposed to be special, right? That’s what movies say. Sweet sixteen. Big dreams. First love. Nobody told me that sixteen also comes with pressure. “Chioma, JAMB is next year. Start reading now.” “Chioma, why is your skirt short?” “Chioma, when are you bringing a man home for us to see?” I’m not even allowed to wear makeup. The alarm on my phone buzzed again. 6:00 AM. I groaned and rolled over. My room was small. Posters of my favorite singers were peeling off the wall. My school uniform was hanging on the chair. White shirt, blue skirt, black shoes that already had dust on them. I’m Chioma Eze. SS2 student. Church girl. First daughter. And today, nothing felt different. Except… something was about to change. I just didn’t know it yet. At School Our school gate was chaos as usual. Bikes, keke, parents dropping their kids, and seniors acting like they own the place. “Good morning, ma!” my best friend Tolu yelled, running up to me with her bag half open. Her tie was crooked. “Tolu, you look like you fought with your uniform.” She laughed. “Better than looking like you didn’t sleep, Chi. You okay? It’s your birthday.” I shrugged. “Birthdays are for little kids.” “Liar.” She linked her arm with mine. “Come on. First period is Math and Mr. Adebayo is in a bad mood today.” The hallway smelled like chalk, sweat, and that cleaning chemical they use every morning. Lockers slammed. People shouted. Someone was playing music from their phone. This was my world. Three years left. Then WAEC. Then university. Then… what? I didn’t know. After School I was walking home when I saw him. He was standing by the gate, leaning against the fence like he had all the time in the world. White shirt, sleeves rolled up. New student. Everyone was talking about him. David. He looked up and our eyes met for one second. My heart did something stupid. Then he smiled. Just a little. I looked away fast and pretended to check my phone. Tolu nudged me. “Did you see that? He was looking at you.” “Shut up,” I said, but my face was hot. I’ve had crushes before. But this felt different. Dangerous. Because at 16, you’re not supposed to feel things this big. At Home “Welcome home,” my mom said, already in the kitchen. “Wash your hands. Food is ready.” Rice and stew. My favorite. “Thank you, ma.” After dinner she sat me down. “Chioma, you’re 16 now. You need to be serious. No boyfriend. No distractions. Focus on your books.” “Yes, ma.” But in my room that night, I opened my journal and wrote one line: Today I turned 16. And for the first time, I wondered what it would feel like to choose something for myself. Outside, the night was quiet. Inside, my heart was loud. To be continued...