A Second Chance

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  Dedication

  A Second Chance

  About the Author

  A Second Chance

  ALESSANDRA EBULU

  Ten years ago Demola escaped the purgatory of high school by way of a powerful essay that put him on the path to becoming a successful writer. Invited back to speak at a Career Week, he does not expect to run into the man most responsible for his misery in school.

  Carter swears he has left his bullying ways behind, and he is determined to use the one week he's got to prove he is indeed a changed man.

  A Second Chance

  By Alessandra Ebulu

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Erica Roberts

  Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

  This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  Second Edition September 2018

  First Edition December 2013

  Copyright © 2013 by Alessandra Ebulu

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 9781684313570

  To Yettie.

  Thank you for not judging, always loving, and for reminding me that tomorrow is another day to try again. Thank you for always giving me a second chance.

  Love you loads.

  A Second Chance

  I really don't think I can regard myself as someone who has been truly bullied. I haven't been hurt in any way, and other than my newfound fear of tiny spaces, I think I'm fine. Physically anyway. Emotionally and psychologically, on the other hand, is a whole new ball game and as much as I would like to say that I'm all right on that count as well, my refusal to see a psychologist no matter how much my mother insists that I should, probably says something to the contrary.

  When I first got into this school, I had such high hopes. I was finally in the country of the free—away from the madness, the insensitivity of my home country. I was in a country where I could be myself, let my wings out and take off into the air as free as an eagle, having an uninterrupted glimpse into a beautiful future.

  I was wrong.

  Since I started at Ellis High, all I've faced is ridicule—for the colour of my skin, the accent in my voice and the desires of my mind. I've been called names, been mocked, and shoved into tiny places. I guess I should be grateful that I haven't been bloodied up. Not yet anyway. After all, I have a few months until graduation.

  Do I sound morbid? I apologise. I can get that way at times.

  The aim of this essay is to explain the situation we seek to escape from and how we feel the recommendation and eventual scholarship will help us. Well, it is a constant need for me to get away. And I do that by writing. I write everything down. No matter how jumbled, meaningless or stupid it might seem. From stupidity come some nuggets of wisdom anyway. Do I think I can actually make a living from writing? I really can't say. But I won't know if I don't try.

  The recommendation and thus scholarship to study creative writing at Brown would indeed be a priceless gift. I know that there are a lot of students who would love the opportunity; who might be more deserving than me, but I do know one thing: not a single one of them needs this more than I do. I see this as a chance to not only kick-start a career, but to further spread my wings; to prove to those who mock me that I can become a person who will inspire others; a person who rises above the castigation of his peers and uses those mocking voices to spur himself on to greater heights.

  Hopefully this is enough to get me to be considered as a potential candidate. In a way, this essay is my cry for help.

  Ademola Collins.

  Sylvia Rayne neatly folded the letter as well as her letter of recommendation into an envelope. She took a deep breath and leaned back against her chair. Her decision made, she hoped that it would indeed prove beneficial to the boy. She had done the little she could. It was therefore up to him to either seize the day and make the most of the opportunity, or to let the chance pass him by.

  Hopefully, Demola would choose wisely.

  Ten Years Later

  Carter's stomach growled in protest. Like the pangs had not been indicative enough of the state his stomach was in. Dammit! Not only does my back ache like a bitch, now I'm starving as well. Hopefully, Damon would have something ready for him to eat the very minute Carter came out from beneath the BMW he was working on. If the idiot didn't, well there was always a first time for one to indulge in the age-old tradition of cannibalism. At the thought, Carter wrinkled his nose. Hell no! With the amount of junk that Damon pumped into his body, eating him would just make Carter morbidly obese.

  He whistled the tune to Muse's "Resistance" as he turned the last couple of screws. With that done, he slid out from underneath the car, took in a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet. A yawn threatened to escape but Carter suppressed it. Damn! He was tired. It had been an exhausting day. It seemed like all the cars that had gone on the road that day had developed faults and found their way to Simmons—his car shop. However, he couldn't really complain. The busy day simply meant that he would be smiling all the way to the bank. As long as that continued to happen, he was definitely a happy man.

  "So, were you able to fix it, Carter darling?" The voice grated on Carter's already frayed nerves. Probably because Alison Walters was an annoying female who would not take no for an answer and believed that because she had more money than sense, and a body that most women would kill for and men die over, she could convert Carter. That was the word she used, 'convert'. Like his being gay was something that he had control over.

  Nevertheless, just because she annoyed him to hell and back again, didn't mean that she wasn't a paying customer and a damn good one at that. If he had to suffer such indignities in order to pay his employees, maintain his shop and live the life of an entrepreneur, so be it, because heavens knew he really didn't do good with working under anyone. His forceful removal from Argey's Auto said it all.

  "Yes. It was no big deal really. You could have easily done it by yourself."

  "And ruin my lovely nails? You've got to be kidding. Besides, if all your customers fixed their cars by themselves, you won't be in business."

  Carter conceded to her point with a nod. Long strides took him to his office. The click clack of high stilettos indicated that Alison was not too far from him. He suppressed a sigh as he opened the door, and with a wave of his hand, indicated that she should enter before him. The woman practically preened, purring as she passed by him. "Such a gentleman."

  He ignored the statement, and immediately moved to his desk, pulled open one of the drawers and brought out the receipt book. With his quick scrawl, he filled out the receipt. Carter raised his head to find Alison balanced on the table. She had her legs crossed and leaned towards him, a well-manicured hand holding forward a debit card.

  Just as he reached out to collect it, she murmured, "So when exactly are you going to take me out on that date Carter? It's wrong to make a lady continuously ask you to take her out. Just choose a date, time and venue and I will be there."

  "I'll give you the same answer I always have. I'm not interested. I just don't swing that way." He softened his voice on the last bit, when he saw her eyes glint. A hysterical female was not something he could handle. He just wished that Alison would listen to him for once, and not the stupid, misguided images she had of the two of them as a couple in her head.

  Alison gave a huff and handed him her card. He inserted the card, punched in
the value of her repair, and handed the machine to her to punch in her pin. After a short while, she was on her way out of the shop, her receipt in hand. Just as she got to the door, she turned. "I’ll be back at the end of the month for my tune-up. Hopefully, by then, you will realize what you're missing by turning away from all of this."

  Carter did not bother replying to her comment. That would simply encourage her and he was not in the mood to do that.

  "'Please Carter dear, you just have to marry me. My life without you is empty. I don't even know what I will do if you cannot be the father of my children.'"

  Carter turned to glare at the idiot who had spoken in the falsetto voice.

  "Shut up Rick."

  "But come on boss, it's funny." Salvador said, obviously thinking he was helping matters out. "Really, the woman seems to have her hopes pinned on you."

  "Maybe you need to fuck a guy in her presence. That will probably get your message across more effectively. At the moment, I'm sure she thinks that you're only teasing her or that you're not interested in her and are just trying to let her down gently. A hard fuck will drive the truth home," Matt yelled from beneath the hood of a Mercedes.

  "Grow up you guys and get back to work. I need to be home in three hours max, otherwise I will be grouchy." Carter watched the message sink in, and everyone shuffled back to work. They all knew how irritable he was when he was in full-on grouchy mode and none of them wanted to deal with that. Smart men.

  "Phone call boss. Said her name's Sylvia Rayne."

  The name immediately brought back a rush of memories. Of hard seats, old books, and a woman who loved the characters in the books she read as much as she loved the students she taught. Some of them she loved more than others, which was understandable. Everyone had favorites, teachers were no exception. Sylvia Rayne was a lifesaver. She had a way of speaking to someone, of seeing a person that ensured that one had no choice but to listen because one knew that all she said, she said out of genuine concern and a desire to help.

  If she hadn't stepped in and encouraged him to pursue his dreams, take them seriously and let go of everything that was keeping him bound, he wouldn’t be where he was at the moment. In high school, he had considered himself one of the cool kids. Sports had been easy for him, especially because that was how he and his father spent many weekends, kicking soccer balls all over the place. Being a part of the popular crowd had meant that he kept his distance from the things that didn't fit into his world.

  It had also meant that he was part of the group that teased the not-so cool kids, a thing he was not so proud of. Then, it had seemed like the coolest thing in the world. He had drawn the line at physically harming anyone though, but the same could not be said for his so-called 'friends'. It had been useless making any objections. They simply ignored his protests and did what they wanted, especially when it came to tormenting the transfer student from Nigeria. The boy had been okay, really. He had kept to himself mostly, and had apparently loved to read. With the amount of books the boy lugged around, that was the only logical conclusion.

  Ademola Collins had been an enigma. He didn't have any friends, and no interests other than the books he kept close to himself, and the headphones that he had perpetually attached to his ears. What was puzzling was how at ease Demola had been. Like his life was complete with his books and his music and so he didn't need anything else. True to his own nature, Carter had needed to figure Demola out. And that was how the teasing had started. It had simply been a way to get the other boy to react. Through Demola's reactions, Carter had assumed that he would have finally understood what made him tick.

  Unfortunately, everything just sailed over him, which made Ademola even more of a puzzle. At that point Carter had been tired of it all, but the others had not wanted to stop, and they had kept at it until graduation. Carter simply wished he had gotten the opportunity to apologise to Demola. Demola hadn't deserved any of the bullshit he had received, and it still ate at him.

  He brought the phone to his ear and smiled when he heard Mrs. Rayne's cool voice. "Hello Carter. I trust you are well?"

  "Yes I am, Mrs. Rayne."

  "Good. And no more teasing people? You've learnt the fine act of merely asking others to tell you about themselves, instead of trying to figure them out on your own?" The statement was made with a laugh.

  Carter snorted. "Yes I have."

  "Okay. Now on to the reason for my call. Career Week is coming up in two months, and I've been placing calls to some of the alumni of the school, with the hope that those of you who have pursued your dreams and made something of yourselves can come and talk to the kids. Just speak about what you know and the decisions you had to make to get to where you are at the moment. I've put your name down. I hope you will be able to make it?" The question at the end of the request made it obvious that she didn't want to push him on the issue completely.

  "Of course I will. I will just note it on my calendar."

  "That's good to hear. I will call you when it's about a week to the day everything's meant to start. Do have a good week."

  Carter was about to hang up the call when she continued.

  "And Carter?"

  "Yes Mrs. Rayne?"

  "You did good. See you soon. Oh, and one more thing. I sent you a package in the mail. Do take the time to read it, carefully. From cover to cover. I think there's a message in there for you." The call disconnected and Carter dropped the phone in its cradle.

  He thought about what it could be that Mrs. Rayne was sending to him. It had to be a book of some sort, but why was she sending it to him? Carter shrugged and walked out of the office, to the garage. He had work to do. Carter ducked his head beneath the open hood of a Honda.

  As he worked, he hoped that he would be able to inspire others with his story: the story of a boy who everyone regarded as all brawn, no brains, owning a thriving business and doing well for himself.

  *~*~*

  Demola took in a deep breath, allowing the delicious scent of his mother's Egusi soup to fill his nostrils. His stomach rumbled in agreement to what his sense of smell already told him. The soup was going to be delicious and he was ecstatic that he would be able to enjoy it.

  He pushed open the door to the living room, and dropped his bags with a thud. That done, he followed the banging sounds to the kitchen, where he saw his mother, her hair carefully plaited in a suku, her iro and buba wrapped neatly wrapped around her dainty waist.

  Demola's lips stretched in a smile, and he tread carefully, trying not to make any sound. When he got behind his mother, he took in a deep breath, her scent washing over him, then bent and wrapped his arms around her. "Hello gorgeous. Miss me?"

  "Ademola Fredrick Collins. You know better than to try and startle me. Even at your quietest, I know when you're around."

  Ariyike turned around to stare at her son. Demola aware of what was going on in her mind turned around so she could look her fill. "Hmm. You look thinner. Have you been eating?"

  "Yes mother." At the suspicious look she leveled on him, Demola laughed. "Seriously. I have been eating."

  "Well, you're home anyway. I can feed you to my heart's content. How long are you going to be around for?"

  After she asked the question, Ariyike turned back to stir the soup. She raised the spoon to her mouth and blew on it, smeared some on her open palm, brought her palm to her mouth and licked the soup. "Needs more salt."

  "Only for a week. I need to get back to my apartment and sort out some things. Then I have a meeting with my publishers that I cannot miss."

  Ariyike shrugged and continued with her cooking. "Supper will be ready in a while. Go shower, change into clean clothes and come back downstairs. We'll eat and you can tell me all about your new book."

  Demola leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. He took the stairs at a run. He was sweaty and tired from the flight and wanted nothing more than a cold shower, a hot meal and a night of uninterrupted sleep. Hopefully, in that order.

 
The shower was invigorating. Demola slipped into a pair of black jeans and a grey turtleneck. With that done, he hurried to the dining room where his mother was already settled. She had the food in covered bowls and was obviously waiting for him to join her before she started eating. When he was seated, the dishes were opened, and they both busied themselves, dishing out the food and eating.

  After he had assuaged his hunger, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind. "How is Segun's business going?"

  Segun, his younger brother, had decided to start his own business. He had been of the opinion that Lagos and Nigeria needed a chain that would provide them with wholesome foods, that could cater to the health-conscious Nigerian. His MBA had gone towards getting his business established, and hopefully making him more money than he would have if he worked for someone else. Food was a major commodity in the world, and people needed to eat to survive anyway.

  "It's going well actually. Last I heard, he's already thinking of setting up outlets in Shomolu, Keffi, Obalende, Ajah, and Ikeja."

  "That's good news. He's expanding, which means he's certain that he's on the right track. Thank God for his stubborn insistence that food was the right way to go." When Segun had initially informed the family that he was giving up his job to start a food business, everyone had deemed him crazy. No one gave up the comfort of a regular salary that came in six figures for the unknown daily profits or loss that an entrepreneur had to live on. But Segun had stuck to his guns, and it looked like the move had paid off big time.

  "Yes, he and his stubborn head. It's the same pig-headedness that his son inherited."

  At that Demola grinned. Segun's son, Funsho was the most precocious six-year-old he knew. Of course, that might be a biased opinion, but who cared really. He adored his nephew and the shenanigans he always got into. "What did he do this time around mother?"

  "He watched that stupid Dracula movie. Not like I know what his stupid nanny was thinking allowing him to watch it. And why he wasn't terrified of the movie like any normal child, I don't know…" At that Ariyike drifted off and mumbled something under her breath while Demola, amused watched her, and waited for her to continue the tale.