Ipods in Accra (4 page)

My phone beeped again. What was it with nocturnal people! I got next to no texts and then they all came at once. It was like waiting for a bus!

Whatever.
The ceremony details could wait
.

When I got home at about six p.m, Delphy was already in her room doing her homework or up to something. It was hard to tell nowadays – either way she'd make sure she had a book that resembled a text book in front of her alongside an exercise book on the desk. I was impressed: apart from her earlier indiscretion involving those bags from New York, she had managed to keep her promise to Mum and Dad about not getting involved in any mini business ventures before secondary school.

‘Hey, Dad,' I said, as he walked in carrying a whole load of papers.

‘Makeeda, do you think you could order a pizza or something tonight? I told your mum I'd cook, but I've got to go through this lot.'

‘Where's Mum?'

‘She's gone to help Grace. So can you sort out dinner?'

‘Sure, Dad!' Delphina shouted from the top of the stairs.

‘He asked me!' I protested.

‘Don't argue about it – just sort it out!' Dad said, before disappearing into the dining room.

Delphina rolled her eyes. It was the same every six months. Dad would have to sort out the paperwork for the garage before meeting his accountant and would get into a bad mood. (Mum was the same around Ofsted inspections. She was already deputy head of the history department and she'd only been there just over a year.) The good news, though, was that Dad wouldn't notice if I didn't start revising immediately. My phone beeped.

Bharti was away on a revision course that meant that she was excused from school for a few days. Our school was only letting her do it because they didn't want anything affecting their position in the league tables. I quickly logged on.

I quickly filled her in about my discovery that, in one phone call, I had agreed to undergo a traditional ceremony.

It wasn't. It was too late to back out now – I would look stupid. I couldn't bear the thought of the smug look on Afua's face. Plus, a bit of me didn't want to disappoint everyone.

She was right. I needed her and I was being mean.

I had met Nelson earlier that evening to revise, but we spent most of our time messing around. Not like before when we'd kiss, but literally messing around, like chucking bits of paper at each other and getting asked to leave the library in front of everyone. It was beginning to feel more like we were mates. It didn't help that when we left we bumped into Nick and his new friend Sanari.

Delphina was yelling at me about dinner, but I didn't care; there was something I still had to run by Bharti.

‘Delphy! Just get whatever you know I like and wouldn't cuss you over!'

‘Huh?' Delphy said.

‘Choose wisely, little sis!' I said and closed my bedroom door. I told Bharti about what had happened after Nelson and I left Nick and Sanari. Nelson and I did our usual thing, where I spent some time avoiding a kiss then finally gave in. For a while it had felt like we weren't as affectionate with each other as before. Sometimes we'd see each other and the closest we'd get to kissing was an awkward hug. This time we kissed, but I didn't expect the strange feeling that kissing him left me with.

I knew exactly what Bharti meant though, but it felt strange to be finally saying it. This had been a long road with an obvious end. Nelson and I were over.

Talking to Bharti had made me realise a lot of things. But first things first: I needed to tell Mum and Dad the truth about the puberty ceremony. I couldn't go on pretending I was really excited to do it, when it freaked me out and could potentially ruin my holiday.

I walked into the living room to find Mum and Dad sitting on the sofa. Mum must have got back early and calmed Dad down. She had her legs across Dad's lap. I was just grateful they weren't kissing. Recently they'd been all over each other, ever since they'd started going to the gym together. When your own love life wasn't exactly high on the old kissometer, the last thing you needed to see were PDAs (Parental Displays of Affection). Bharti and I both agreed it messed with your head. I mean, we were living proof it went on so we really didn't need to see it.