I've always been abnormal.
Strange things just happen to me—bad luck of all kinds follows me wherever I go. Moving from state to state with Mum, always changing schools, never made a difference. It didn't matter where I went; I would always be abnormal.
The first time I realized something was different about me was when I began seeing supernatural beings. But they weren't like the ghosts you see on TV. There were no floating, no see-through bodies, no slipping through walls. What I saw was more abstract, like the weird images you get when you close your eyes and press down on your eyelids. It's hard to explain, but it's there—a sense that something is present, even though it's not completely visible.
These beings followed me everywhere. They're all around us, living their own separate lives, or so it seems. Some move from one location to another, while others are tied to specific places—by the bathroom, at the foot of the door, under the trees, or wherever there's a large pile of trash.
After listening to a preacher on the radio, I started calling them Jinns. The description fit perfectly.
But seeing Jinns wasn't my only "gift." I could also sense when someone was about to die. Not the angel of death, but a kind of looming presence that told me their time was almost up. Sometimes they had a few days left, sometimes a week, but they always died.
This ability got me into a lot of trouble growing up, which is why I decided to stop having friends. They always thought I was crazy, told their parents, and then the school principal would call Mum and me to the office. After that, we'd be off to another state.
When I was 12, I asked Mum why we kept changing schools and losing friends.
"Because we're on an adventure," she said with a smile. "We're going to be the first Nigerians to live in every state in the entire country. We'll go down in history."
*What a big pile of bullshit,* I thought. But back then, it made so much sense.Now, at 17, I just accept it every time we move.
The most abnormal thing about me, though, is the color of my eyes. I'm a black African girl from Niger State, Nigeria—what business do I have with deep ocean-blue eyes? That's why I wear huge, tinted glasses. I got tired of being called a witch, so I gladly covered up my blue, demonic eyes.
Maybe I am a witch. I can see things that normal people never seem to notice, and I can sense death. I wonder what else I'm capable of.
Mum and I talk about everything. I tell her every single detail about my strange life, and she listens. She's the one who taught me how to turn every unpleasant situation into a joke. She's weird like that, and I love her for it.
I remember last year when we were in Anambra State. I didn't even bother to care which local government we were in, but I remember the name of the school: *Shalom Secondary School for Girls.* The minute I got home, I told Mum that one of the girls in my class had that sense of death on her. She was practicing for the upcoming Miss Shalom pageant. She was a nice girl, always saying hi to me, even though I never bothered to learn her name.
I wanted to tell her to get her affairs in order because it was bye-bye world soon, but I couldn't. Where would I even start? And besides, it wasn't any of my business. All I could do was hope she died peacefully in her sleep. But no—she died doing what she loved most, according to Mum. Right there on stage, while competing. She tried to land a backflip in the shortest skirt I'd ever seen. Unfortunately, she didn't land it properly. She broke her neck and died shortly after.
During all the chaos, I rushed to the judges' section. She was already leading the other contestants by 20 points. She didn't even need to do the backflip. Oh well, she died doing what she wanted most.
Yeah, weird, bad luck always floats around me. That's what she gets for saying hi to me every day.
We moved after that. Now, we're in Kaduna State—my second time here. Last time, we stayed in a small one-room apartment in Zaria, Samaru. I was little then, and I don't remember much except for the exceptional weather.
We didn't have much money, but we always managed to pull through with rent, food, and a new uniform.
I got enrolled at Capital Science Secondary School. I'm so close to graduating. Mum always says we're going abroad once I complete secondary school. I don't know where or with what money, but she's a superwoman so i belive her. She always pulls through.
I tell her everything about my life hoping to get somehting in return, but she claims to have a very normal and boring one. Nothing ever happens to her, so instead, we spend time talking about my weird encounters and cracking jokes.
I'm used to it now. I don't complain about the things I don't understand.
We've been here in Kaduna for nearly two years, which is a problem because I'm about to write my WAEC—the final exams to get admitted to universities here in Nigeria. As usual, I'm the weirdo of the class. I sit in the back with my thick, tinted glasses, never saying a word to anyone. I ace all my exams (I'm kind of a genius).
My economics teacher, Miss Amber, interrupted our ongoing further mathematics class. I never use a calculator. I always quickly solve numbers in my head. During a five-hour journey with Mum, I memorized the entire sine, cosine, tangent, and logarithm tables. I just found a pattern with the numbers. I later realized it was…
"Nadeem, report to the principal's office," Miss Kaltu motioned. I stood up immediately.
I followed behind her down the stairs, not even asking why I was being called to the principal's office. That's me—I don't ask questions; I just follow. It's easier that way.
The principal's office was large, with a huge desk, two chairs, and an air that was chilly, smelling of forced lavender. A man in his mid-forties with bald, gray hair, wrinkled clothes, and shoes with holes in them was sitting across from the principal.
Both of them turned their attention to me. I hid behind my glasses, looking at every detail of the office—from the trophies to the award plaques to the several piles of documents.
"This is the girl I told you about, Nadeem," the principal said.
The almost-homeless-looking man stared at me with unwavering attention, as if trying to recognize me. I'd never seen this man before in my life, and I remember everything—my brain is built that way.
"Tell her to take off her glasses," the man whispered to the principal.
Another thing—I have very good hearing. I could still hear the math class I was missing. The teacher was still solving the question we were on before I left, and Miss Kaltu was on the phone with someone. It wasn't like Superman hearing; I could just always tap into what I wanted to listen to. It was like tuning to my favorite radio channel.
"Nadeem, take off your glasses," the principal instructed.
Hold up. Why do I need to take off my glasses? What exactly is going on, and who the hell is this homeless man giving orders ?
I hesitated. When I didn't move fast enough, my principal slammed his hand on the table."Now!" he demanded.
I'd known this principal for two years and had never said a word or even looked in his direction. Now, he was slamming his hand on the table, demanding I take off my glasses. This was weird.
Without saying a word, I took them off. The burst of color and sunlight rushed into my eyes, and I had to squint to recalibrate.
"She's the one. She's the one! Finally, we found her!" The homeless man nearly fell out of his seat with joy.
*What does he mean by finally found her?*
Even the principal joined the man in celebration, their eyes filled with happiness and joy. I didn't understand what was going on, so I shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another adjusting my uniform. They seemed particularly interested in my eyes. They whispered in hushed tones, deciding what to do next with the girl with blue eyes.
I was tapped into another station. Miss Kaltu was on the phone with my mother. She was telling her that I had been called to the principal's office and that she was worried I'd been found out.
"They finally found out about her," she said to Mum. "You need to hurry. I'm not sure they'll let her go this time."
On this side of the door, the principal was calling for my attention.
"Nadeem, this man here is your uncle. He's been looking for you for over 10 years."
*Uncle? 10 years?*
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"I am your father's eldest brother," he said, his thick Nupe accent cutting through the air. Having traveled across the country, I can easily detect different accents/dialects and could immediately tell someone's tribe by their face or surname. This uncle was clearly Nupe from Niger State, with the telltale tribal marks of '11 11' on both cheeks. He had a dark complexion, short and sturdy build, and looked like he'd been farming without a harvest for ten years. He seemed tired, hungry, and sick.
He was truly ugly.
"You don't recognize me, Nadeem? It's me, Baba Gundu." He reached out to hold my hand, and I flinched immediately.
*Does he really expect me to believe this?*
My mum had always told me that my dad died when I was seven, in his hometown. He was cast out by his family for marrying my mum, and when he fell ill with cancer, nobody helped him.
Although I remember everything, I can't recall anything from before age seven , I don't remember my dad—or this so-called Baba Gundu.
I would rather swallow my tongue than speak, but I managed to say, "I don't know you, sir. Please call my mother; I'm sure she can explain better."
"That witch! She stole you from us!" His voice instantly turned dry and angry, his eyes almost boiling with rage.
I waited for the principal to step in as my school guardian, but instead, he seemed just as angry as Baba Gundu.
The whole situation was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. I needed to get out of there—I wasn't comfortable with these men.
"Your mother stole you from our tribe, killed your father, and ran away! We've been looking for you for years, trying to save you from her evil hands."
*Not only is my mother a witch, but now he claims she killed my father and… stole me?*
I've had weird days, but this one took the cake. I started panicking, looking for possible escape routes. The door was just behind me—I should make a run for it. Just then, I heard Miss Kaltu, who was still standing by the door, say, "Hurry up, Susan; they're trying to convince her to come with them."
*I thought she was on the phone with Mum. But my mum's name isn't Susan—it's Zaeenta. Why did she call her Susan?*
Distracted by Miss Kaltu's phone call, I didn't notice the principal getting up from his chair and walking toward me with a limp. He had always limped and always looked sickly and ugly—just like Uncle Baba. Could they be related?
"Nadeem, listen to your uncle. He's telling the truth. You've been missing for over a decade. We've been searching everywhere for you and your mum. To think you were a student here—this is from the heavens! Come with us, and we'll tell you everything you need to know about your eyes."
*My eyes? Is that why he requested I take my glasses off? Do they know about me? About my abilities?*
I had always wanted to figure out why I was different… abnormal.
"Please excuse me," I said, turning and dashing for the door before they could stop me. I ran out of the office and straight to the girls' bathroom.
"We can't let her go again."
"Calm down, Gundu. Everything is under control. She will not leave this school except in our custody."
*They're planning to kidnap me! What the hell is going on? And why is this happening to me?!*
Miss Kaltu was on the phone with my mum—maybe she could help me. But what if she was in on it? She called my mum by a different name—who the hell is Susan? So many questions flooded my mind as I locked myself in a stall. *This is crazy!*
"Nadeem, where are you?"
"Nadeem!" I heard Miss Kaltu's whispering voice in the large bathroom.
*Should I trust her?*
"Your mum is just outside the gate. She wants you to go there right now. It's paramount you leave immediately."
"Nadeem…" she tried again.
*Mum or Susan?* My gut told me to take a leap of faith and trust her, at least for now.
"I'm here," I said, unlocking the bathroom door.
"You need to leave now! I'll try to distract them, but go now, Nadeem." She looked into my eyes, full of worry and pity. *'Poor girl, I can't believe they found her,'* I heard her think. Her mouth wasn't moving when she said this, but I heard it loud and clear through her eyes.
I rushed out of the bathroom and dashed for the school gate. On the other end, I heard Miss Kaltu informing the principal that she saw me go into the staff room on the other side of the school.
Since it was during class hours, the gate was deserted—only the security men were there. I saw my mum's car pull up, and she rushed out toward the gate.
"I am her mother! I'm taking her to the hospital," she pleaded with the security man at the gate.
"There's no call from the office to release a student, ma…" the middle-aged man rudely replied to my worried, almost shaking mother. She looked like she'd rip off the gate and drag me out—she was running out of patience.
"I'll have to call the office to confirm, madam," he said, reaching for his walkie-talkie.
"No! I beg you, don't call them! Let me have my daughter, please!" she cried.
He wasn't even paying attention to her.
*Maybe he's in on it too… the people trying to kidnap me.*
Just then, a mysterious van pulled up behind my mum. She was still trying to get the security man's attention.
"Mum!" I called out.
Two men jumped out of the van. One grabbed my mum by the head and covered her face with a white cloth. Before I could shout another word, the security guard was behind me, and the next thing I saw was darkness.