Chapter Ten
I walk through the front door humming myaudition song. In the kitchen, Mom stops scribbling in a notepad and looks at me. Books for her licensing exam are on the countertop, overlapping each other in an untidy pile.
“You’re in a good mood.” She drops her pen and sets her full attention on me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. How’s studying?”
“Fine.” She’s tired. Her voice is coarse, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. She won’t ever admit to being exhausted. Or admit the study material is difficult or that she misses Daddy. She just smiles and says, “Everything is fine.” But her smile is always strained, like there are invisible staples holding it in place, keeping it from collapsing to a frown. “How was your day? Eh?” she asks. “You seem happy. Did something happen?”
“Um… yes. I auditioned for the school—”
“Auditioned?” She sits up straight and crosses her arms. “For what? Is this something that will help you with your studies and get you into a good university?”
“Um… no.”
“Enore.” She sighs and presses a finger to her temple, then mumbles something under her breath in our language, Edo.
I look at the books spread out on the kitchen counter and then at Mom’s fatigued eyes and low shoulders that seem weighed down by enough. “I mean, yes,” I blurt out. “It will help me with university. It’s math club. I auditioned for math club.”
“Math club?” She tilts her head. “You have to audition for math club? You can’t just join?”
“Um… yes. I mean, no. No, you can’t just join. Members of the team have to make sure you’re really good at math—test you first.”
“Okay. So they tested you?”
I nod.
“And? Did they accept you?”
“Yes. They did. I’m a member of the math club now.”
“Really?” The tension leaves her face. “Well, that’s wonderful. Sara told me that university admissions are very competitive here. I’m happy you’re taking initiative so that your application can stand out. Good job.”
“Thank you.” I struggle to keep a smile on my face.
“But talk to your sister for me, eh? She needs to take her studies more seriously. Because that girl is not serious at all. All she cares about is her makeup nonsense. Now she is talking about starting a YouTube channel. Maybe if she sees how you are behaving, it will help her change and focus on school.”
It takes every bit of resolve to stay composed. “Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
In my room, I fall on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I just lied to my mom, and it’s not a little white lie. This one is massive. What exactly will I have to do to maintain this lie—tell more lies, sneak around, ask people to lie for me? I am not equipped to pull all that off. Maybe I should tell her the truth, even though the truth will mean giving up the musical. For a moment, I sit on that option and imagine what it would be like to give up that stage and everything I experienced during the audition. My imagination runs wild, and the loss seems too real, too painful. I can’t give it up. Not yet. I’ll have to get comfortable with lying.
“So, everyone at school is talking.”
I rise to my elbows and watch my sister at the doorway. “Talking about what?”
She enters the room and smirks. “You.”
“Esosa,” I say, my voice flat. “I’m really not in the mood for whatever this is, so abeg just come and be going.”
“Well, I have something to show you. Something you will definitely want to see.” She extends her phone to me. “Here. Look.”
I take it hesitantly, then gawk at the screen. “Oh, my God. That’s me! That’s my audition!” I jump to my feet and pace around the room. “How? Who did this? Take it down.”
“I can’t. Someone posted it.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Why not? It’s a video worth watching.”
After tripping on the white rug in the center of the room, I sit on the bed and grunt. “I don’t want to be watched. How do I get it taken down?”
“Enore, relax.” She sits beside me and pats my back. “It’s not that serious. And if you didn’t want to be watched, why did you go and audition?”
“I didn’t think about this part. Just the singing part.”
I didn’t realize it before, but I’ve broken another of my rules—a crucial one.
Rule #3: Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. Keep a low profile.
“Esosa, how many people have seen this?”
“Close to five thousand views.”
“What?” I take deep, controlled breaths and try to stay calm because I’m sure Esosa has made a mistake. “It can’t be five thousand.”
“You’re on the internet, Enore. People like and share. Within an hour of the video being posted, it got almost five thousand views. I’m hoping for viral status by end of day tomorrow.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“And it’s also not the end of the world like you’re making it out to be.” She shoves me playfully. “You know how people say don’t read the comments?”
I swallow and nod.
“You should definitely read the comments.”
My thumb hovers over the screen, but I don’t scroll.
“Trust me.”
After a deep exhale, I swipe upward and read.
SKYHIGH99:Damn! Amazing!
REIMAGINEDLOVE:Sis can sing!!
LOLA_LOVE:Who’s this girl? I’m obsessed!!
BORNbrAVE2020:Have I watched this 10 times? Yes!
SWEETIEPIE:GOAT
DOSEOFESOSA:That’s my big sister!!!! Follow her @EnoreEnchanted
I blink back the tears gathering in my eyes and look at Esosa.
“You saw my comment.” She grins. “Didn’t you?”
“‘Enore Enchanted’?”
“I changed your IG handle. ‘Fried Plantain underscore for Life’ had to go. I even posted two videos—the one from your audition and the one from Sunday.”
“Sunday?” I click on the handle, and I’m directed to a new page. “Esosa, why in the world did you record me singing on Sunday?”
“I needed to mark the moment—your first solo at the new church. Who knew it would come in handy during your rebranding?”
I rub the space between my eyebrows, then squint at something I didn’t notice before. “Wait a minute. I have two thousand followers. Yesterday, it was a hundred and ten. How did this happen?”
“Well, people think you’re incredible. And you are.” Her bright eyes shift across my face. “When I saw that video, I was speechless. I knew you could sing, but not like that.” She strokes the watch on my wrist. “Daddy would have been proud.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. He loved it when you sang. Do you remember what he used to do whenever we turned on the car radio?”
“How can I forget?”
For every song that came on, for every artist that sang, he would say, “You call this singing? My daughter can sing better than this.”
We laugh at the memory, and then I look at my Instagram page. “Why Enore Enchanted?”
“You’re the one who sang a Disney princess song. I had to work with what I had. But it sounds nice, don’t you think?”
“It does.” We’re quiet for a moment, and I fidget with my hair while thinking of the lie I told recently. “I didn’t tell Mommy about the musical. I lied—told her I joined a math club. If she knew, she would—”
“I know,” Esosa says. “Trust me, I know.”
In sync, we sigh and our backs hit the bed.
“What if she finds out somehow—sees the video or hears about it?”
“Mommy isn’t active on social, so she’ll likely never see it. Unless it somehow makes its way to her WhatsApp prayer group. But that’s unlikely.”
“But what if it does? What if she sees it?”
“Then we’ll handle it. We’ll figure it out. But in the meantime, I’ll tell Adrian to keep his mouth shut and not to say a word about the musical or the video to Auntie Sara or Uncle Davis.”
“Okay. Good. Thanks.”
I rest my head against hers, and we stay that way for a long while.
“Tomorrow, everyone at school is going to know who you are,” Esosa says.
My heart skips as the realization hits me.
She turns to me, studies my expression, and smirks. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.”