He quickly checked the time, remembering that he had meant to spend no more than five minutes by the pictures. But now, the time told a different, silent tale.
7:54 A.M.
"Shit!"
Panic surged through him as he hurriedly shoved the second pair of glasses into his bag, leaving the infrared ones on his face. Snatching up the glasses case as well, he bolted out of the living room.
"ELINQUA!"
His mother’s voice rang out, sharper this time.
"I’m coming, Ma!"
In a blur of motion, he emptied his breakfast into the cooler, jammed the spoon inside, and shoved everything into his lunchbox with the precision of a well-oiled machine.
He slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, stuffed the second pair of glasses and the case inside, and sprinted toward the car.
His mother was already in the driver’s seat, the engine running. He barely managed to fling himself inside.
"Sorry I was late," he panted.
"WHAT WERE YOU DOING?" she snapped.
"Uh… just finishing my assignment."
She narrowed her eyes at him, her expression like a bulldog that had swallowed poison.
"What assignment? You finished everything yesterday!"
"Uh… I can explain, Mum—"
"I don’t want to hear your flimsy excuses!"
With a huff, she hit the accelerator.
Elinqua’s school, Command Day Secondary School (C.D.S.S), was the only one in the city of Ede. At just nine years old, he had already skipped two grades, landing him in JSS 1—a clear testament to his remarkable intelligence.
But today, intelligence alone wasn’t going to save him.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
By the time they reached school, he checked the clock again.
8:04 A.M.
He was officially late. The cutoff was 7:59 A.M.
After bidding his mother a quick goodbye, he turned toward the school entrance.
Then—
"HEY, LATECOMER! GET OVER HERE!"
His stomach sank. One of the soldiers stationed at the gate waved him over, motioning toward the line of latecomers.
Elinqua thought fast.
He straightened his posture, adjusted the handbag he was carrying, and lowered it slightly, exaggerating its weight.
"Ms. Adedayo asked me to take this to her office urgently, sir."
The soldier frowned. "Hand it over. I’ll have someone take it for you."
Elinqua remained calm.
"She also asked me to deliver this to her son, sir."
He lifted his lunchbox slightly, as though it contained something important.
There was no room for disrespect—he knew better than to cross a soldier. Otherwise, he'd end up as mashed potatoes.
The soldier hesitated. Given Elinqua’s small stature, he hoped his innocent face would work in his favor.
"Alright…"
Elinqua let out a small sigh of relief.
But then—
"SAMUEL!"
His heart plummeted.
Samuel. The assistant head boy.
"Sir!" Samuel responded, jogging over.
"Follow this boy. Make sure he comes back—he’s a latecomer."
"Okay, sir."
Elinqua swallowed hard.
"Damn it. So you won’t listen to my innocent face, huh? Fine. Time to press the pedal harder."
His mind raced, searching for a way out.
Then, with the composure of a seasoned debater, he lowered his voice and spoke.
"Respectfully, sir," he began, "I shouldn’t even be in school today. I was supposed to be at the hospital for hind-limb paresis treatment."
He pulled out a medical report, ensuring his fingers trembled just enough for effect.
"My doctor suspects I may be developing plagia—which is far worse than paresis, sir. The muscle atrophy is already setting in."
He sighed dramatically.
"I rushed here this morning before my final diagnosis… but honestly, sir, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to walk properly by the end of the day."
He winced.
A small price to pay. He’d have to skip football at break, but survival required sacrifice.
The soldier’s eyes narrowed, studying him.
Even Samuel, one of the sharpest students in school, blinked in astonishment.
"So… you’re saying you can’t serve the punishment?" the soldier asked, still skeptical.
"Health-wise, I can’t, sir," Elinqua replied, his voice weaker, his head lowered just enough to signal both respect and genuine suffering.
The soldier sighed and waved him off.
"Alright, you can go."
Elinqua felt a wave of victory surge through him.
But then—
"Before you go… can I see that medical report?"
Samuel’s voice cut through his triumph like a blade.
Elinqua’s breath hitched, but he had no choice.
With a measured, respectful movement, he handed over the report.
Samuel studied it for a moment. His expression was unreadable. Then, finally, he handed it back.
"Alright, you can go."
Elinqua barely contained his relief.
"What’s your name?" Samuel asked.
"Elinqua, sir."
"Your grade?"
"JSS 1."
Samuel said nothing. He just nodded.
Then, as Elinqua turned away, he caught Samuel walking off with an exaggerated lopsided gait—mocking his supposed condition.
Elinqua gritted his teeth.
But inside?
He was grinning.
Because today—
He had won!
