Ayo walked home that day, feeling like she had been emotionally dragged through broken glass. Her mind was a storm of thoughts—Sasha's sharp words still echoing in her head.
She had tried to prepare herself for the inevitable confrontation, rehearsing comebacks in her mind on the walk to school. But reality hit her harder than she'd expected.
What had she ever done to deserve Sasha's relentless bullying? It was a question she had asked herself countless times, but no answer ever came.
All Ayo wanted now was to collapse into the safety of her bed, bury herself in the covers, and forget the day ever happened. She had known the first day of senior year would be rough, but even her low expectations felt too high now.
When she reached the gate of her house, she paused. She needed a moment to pull herself together. Wiping away the last traces of tears from her cheeks, she took several deep breaths, forcing the trembling in her hands to still. Only then did she push the door open.
Ayo didn't want her mom to see her like this—not again. She had promised herself she'd learn to stand up for herself this year. She just had to figure out how.
She flashed back to the previous year, when her mother, Funmi, had first found out about the bullying. It had all started after Ayo had made some acquaintances during a group project.
They had been chatting in the hallway, laughing over some inside joke Ayo didn't fully understand but pretended to. For the first time, she thought maybe she could belong somewhere. Maybe she didn't have to go through high school completely alone.
That hope shattered the moment Sasha appeared. With two of her cheerleading friends flanking her, Sasha's presence felt like a dark cloud rolling in.
"Oh, look who's finally making friends," Sasha had said, her tone dripping with mockery. "What do you call yourselves, the Loser Squad?" She laughed, her friends echoing the cruel sound like a chorus.
Ayo's face burned with humiliation. She knew the others wouldn't be insulted if she wasn't there. She was the reason for this.
"Well, Ayo," Sasha continued, letting her eyes travel up and down Ayo's outfit as if scanning for weaknesses. "Even among losers, you still manage to stand out."
One of Sasha's friends sneered. "What are those shoes? Are you serious?" More laughter followed, ringing in Ayo's ears like an alarm she couldn't shut off.
Ayo could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes, but she bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't give Sasha that satisfaction.
Her phone rang then, cutting through the noise. Without even checking the caller ID, Ayo answered and mumbled, "Hello?" over and over as she walked away, desperate to escape. She didn't stop until she reached the quiet corner of the hallway where she slumped down, finally letting the tears spill over.
It wasn't until someone called her name—"Ayomide?"—that she looked up, startled to see her mother standing there.
"Mom?" Ayo whispered, frantically wiping her face.
Funmi's arms were already around her before Ayo could even process what was happening. In that safe embrace, the dam broke. Ayo cried harder than she had in months, her body shaking with sobs. She hadn't realized that her phone was still connected to the call, and her mother had heard everything. Funmi had dropped everything and rushed to the school.
That night, after Ayo had calmed down, she told her mother the whole story about Sasha, the bullying, everything. Funmi had looked heartbroken, blaming herself for not noticing sooner.
"It's not your fault, Mom," Ayo had insisted. "I just got really good at hiding it. But please, promise me you won't go to the school about this."
Ayo knew her mother too well—Funmi would move mountains to protect her, but Ayo feared that if her mother intervened, it would only make things worse. Sasha would take it out on her even more.
Now, standing at the door of her home, Ayo pushed those memories aside. She wasn't going to let her mom worry again.
"I'm back, Mom!" she called out, forcing her voice to sound cheerful.
"Welcome, my baby!" Funmi's warm voice floated in from the kitchen. Ayo could hear the familiar clatter of pots and pans. Cooking was her mother's therapy, and as a caterer, she was always experimenting with new recipes.
Funmi appeared in the living room a moment later, arms open for a hug. As soon as Ayo leaned in, resting her head on her mother's chest, Funmi stiffened.
"Ayo, are you feeling okay? You're burning up," she said, pulling back to look into Ayo's eyes, concern knitting her brow.
"I'm fine," Ayo lied, her smile stretched too thin to be convincing. "Just a little tired, that's all."
Funmi frowned but didn't press. She knew Ayo well enough to know when she was hiding something. "Alright, if you say so. But you better not be pushing yourself too hard on your first day." She smiled softly, her tone lightening.
Ayo shrugged, trying to keep up the act. "School was fine," she said quickly, dropping her bag by the stairs. Before her mother could ask more questions, Ayo hurried up to her room. She couldn't take any more probing; she was barely holding it together as it was.
Funmi watched her daughter go, her smile fading.
Something was definitely wrong.
Ayo had always been eager to share every little detail about her day, but not today. Funmi returned to the kitchen, her mind already spinning with an idea.
Later that night, Funmi called Ayo down for dinner. She had spent extra time preparing a meal she knew Ayo loved—yam and plantain porridge, the kind that always brought a smile to her daughter's face. Tonight, though, Funmi had a deeper hope. She wanted to lift Ayo's spirits, to reach through whatever wall her daughter was putting up.
Ayo shuffled downstairs, her footsteps slow and heavy, and when she sat at the dinner table, Funmi's heart sank. Ayo's face was pale, her eyes slightly puffy, as if she'd been crying. Funmi didn't ask right away. She simply served the food, placing the bowl in front of Ayo with a quiet smile.
As they sat together, the only sound in the room was the clink of their spoons against the plates. Funmi ate slowly, glancing at her daughter every few seconds. She could feel the tension between them, the unsaid words, the hurt Ayo was carrying.
Funmi's mind raced, trying to find the right way to ask without pushing too hard. "How was your day, sweetie?" felt too light, too far from the truth. But she needed to ask. She needed to know what was going on behind Ayo's tear-streaked face.
Finally, she put her spoon down and reached over, gently placing her hand on Ayo's. "You know you can always talk to me, right?" Her voice was soft, inviting, not demanding.
Funmi's eyes searched Ayo's face, hoping for a crack in the walls her daughter had built.