Teen Spirit: Part 1

“Happy Birthday!!!!”

Mama Sally grinned behind her daughter with a pride reserved for single mothers. Sally tried to hide her smile as she rinsed out the last dish in the sink. Her mum was trying hard to act right and make up for her horrid temper tantrum of the previous night. Sadly, Sally wasn’t in a forgiving mood; not yet, anyway. She turned around to stare at her mother; her eyes were sad, and her small smile was tucked under a mournful expression.

“Thanks mum…” Sally’s voice dripped sorrow and woe.

She could hear the exasperated sigh escape her mother’s lips as she walked out of the kitchen without another word. She wanted her mother to wallow in guilt. Sally wasn’t a bad girl. She loved her mother to death, but she totally did not expect the woman’s reaction after she informed her that she had been invited to Demilade’s A-level graduation party.

“Oh, so you want to start attending parties now abi? You want to start hanging out with those spoiled children whose parents have robbed the country blind to fuel their children’s uselessness abi? I’m sure you want to attend because of those spoiled little drunken brat boys that have been giving you catcalls… yes, I know. I have ears; I hear them whenever I send you on errands, and I see the way they look at you.”

Sally had stared at her mother in open-mouthed horror as the woman’s rants kept flowing. She couldn’t understand the true reason for her mother’s displeasure, but she had a hunch that the empty wine bottle, lying forlornly by the side table, played a huge part.

“Mum, I have always been amongst the top five students in every class I’ve been in. I got straight A’s in my O levels. I don’t go out without you except on errands. I have never attended a party in my life. I am a good cook, respectful, honest, and I attend Church service as you mandated. I barely lie… I don’t drink or smoke as some of my peers do behind closed doors, and I don’t have a boyfriend. Aren’t you scared that I might be suicidal? BECAUSE NO TEENAGER LIVES LIKE THIS!”

Sally topped off her tirade by releasing a little sob and running off to her bedroom in the classic American Teenager Behavior. The times she’d spent watching foreign teen sitcoms had paid off. Her mother’s reaction this morning proved it. Now, Sally sat in her bedroom, waiting for the inevitable knock that was sure to come.

Rap! Rap! Rap!!!

Her mother entered her room tentatively, as if scared that she had booby-trapped it. Sally fought back her smile. She was really enjoying her mother’s show of repentance. After a few awkward moments of silence, her mother spoke. Her words were the usual emotional blackmail infused tripe. She always started her apologies with a brief sob story of how Sally’s father had denied her pregnancy and disappeared on her, preceded by the evils young h0rny boys could get up to and its consequences, then ended with these EXACT WORDS… “Someday, you will look back in time and thank me.” Sally could practically recount her mother’s entire prelude-to-apology speech by heart.

“Sally, my baby, I’m sorry about last night. I know I went overboard on the lecture, but you must understand that I worry for you. I can’t bear to let anything happen to you. You’re all I’ve got; all I live for, and I don’t want to fail at the one thing everyone expects me to fail at… raising you.”

Sally blanked out the rest of her mother’s contrite speech, her mournful expression still in place as her thoughts moved on to the issue that really piqued her interest. DAMILOLA TAYLOR!

She was obsessed with Damilola, and she couldn’t help it. He was just too fine. His perfect mocha skin, his curly hair, firm nose, and jaw, and those full lips kept her in daydream land constantly. And he was tall… so tall, with a ripped, muscular body that made him look like an athlete. He was the classic male character in every Romance novel; twenty-one, handsome, rich, well, rich parents, and a beautiful girlfriend that she was supposed to despise but didn’t.

Damilola’s father was the British Expatriate Managing Director of a popular conglomerate owned by Alhaji Dan Kaba, “The Thieving Senator,” as her mother usually called him. Damilola’s mother was a Lagos socialite from a prominent Lagosian family. She was always on the front pages of blogs, online media, and threw meaningless parties… (just because she could). Mrs. Taylor didn’t like Lillian, Damilola’s girlfriend. Rumor had it that she entered Damilola’s bedroom unexpectedly one evening and found her beloved son doing ‘very adult things’ to Lillian. The poor woman was traumatized by the event and had banned Lillian from entering Damilola’s bedroom. Too bad Mrs. Taylor couldn’t stop Lillian from entering the garage, back seats of cars, dark cinemas, and even the occasional nameless brothels, with her son.

Then there was Damilola’s sister, Demilade. She was a year older than Sally but far wiser in the affairs that concerned the opposite s£x and had a notoriety that was only tolerated because of the wealth her parents possessed. Demilade passed her A-level exam, and Mrs. Taylor was h£ll-bent on celebrating her daughter’s exam success, hence the party. Thinking about it, Sally couldn’t blame the poor woman for wanting to celebrate, considering how everyone knew that Demilade is legally an idiot! Sally, like every other teen who knew the Taylors well, suspected that Demilade’s pass had been assisted heavily by her parents, particularly her mother.

Sally reined in her wandering thoughts and guarded it back to Damilola.

His twenty-first birthday had been a double celebration; one in the UK and one in Apapa, where their sprawling mansion was. Sally had attended neither. She’d cried herself to sleep and dreamt of the moment when she could give Damilola the ultimate gift… her virginity. She prepped for the magical moment both in fantasy and reality. Sally read books, scrolled the internet for secret lessons on sexual pleasures, and even entertained the thought of buying a dildo to experiment with, but quickly perished the thought because she couldn’t afford it. Besides, her spoof-CIA mother had a knack for discovering things she hid. She never could understand how the woman did it, and she didn’t even want to think about the woman’s reaction should she ever find a dildo in Sally’s room. Her mother could be bat-sh!t crazy if she put her mind to it.

“… That’s why I don’t want you to attend.”

She caught the last part of her mother’s words and scowled. This always happened. She couldn’t wait to get admission and get away from this woman and her paranoia. She wasn’t joking when she insinuated that she might be suicidal.

“Fine, mum; I’m not going to the party. " In fact, I won’t go to university or get married so you and I can live unhappily ever after”, she said with a depressed sigh.

Her mother gave up and left her to stew. Sally ended up spending her seventeenth birthday sulking in her bedroom, refusing to be cheered up by the cake her mother had bought her. Even Cynthia’s visit didn’t lighten her mood because all her best friend talked about was Demilade’s upcoming A levels graduation Party. Her seventeenth birthday was her worst birthday yet and as she went to bed that night, she wondered if running away was a better option. Her only pleasing thought of the day was of Damilola’s existence. She lay on her bed and day-dreamed of running away with him and having a dozen curly-haired, dimpled babies.

A few days later, FATE happened sooner than she expected. On the day of Demilade’s A-levels party, Sally was reading an old romance novel when her mum poked her head into her bedroom.

“Sally, I have thought about it long and hard. I am willing to let you attend Demilade Taylor’s Party.”

Sally performed an enviable long jump, landing squarely in front of her mother and smothering her with grateful kisses. Mama Sally smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm. She left her daughter whooping igleefully and was glad she had changed her mind. Mama Sally realized that, of late, Sally always wore a frown that was quickly etching its way to permanence on her young face. It was quite a relief to see her daughter so happy. A few hours later, Cynthia bustled into Sally’s room with a shocked expression that made her look like Big Bird without the beak. Sally had texted her the good news.

“PSYCHO has begun to see the light! Nor be God?”

Sally rolled her eyes. Cynthia had a name for everyone, and they were never nice names. When Cynthia talked about her family, one could easily assume she was referring to patients at a psychiatric ward. She called her younger brother “Chipmunk”… Her father was “Randy Jackson” (Sally often mused about the choice of the name Randy because Papa Alero had a legendary libido). Cynthia called her mum “Ekwembe” in loving respect of the woman’s humongous buttocks. Sally’s mother was “Psycho”. The only person she didn’t have a pet name for was her older sister, Alero. They fought like cat and mouse and despised each other greatly. Cynthia felt Alero didn’t deserve a loving pet name!

“Have you chosen what you’re going to wear to the party? You know we can’t afford to look razz o. Demilade’s hot brother and her other hot cousins would be there. I’ve kukuma chosen the perfect dress. I stole one of Alero’s club outfits.”

Sally listened to Cynthia drone on excitedly, her mind drifting off again to the couple’s dance she envisaged she would have with Damilola. Sally’s joy knew no bounds. But as evening drew closer, she felt faint and constantly had to stop and gasp for breath. She even briefly contemplated forgoing the party for sanity’s sake. Not wanting her mother to freak out, she made sure she was dressed decently and chose a demure-looking gown.

Cynthia’s displeasure could not be masked when she saw Sally’s choice of outfit, but she didn’t dare utter a word. Mama Sally was lurking about, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slam their outing. Instead, the girls listened patiently to another round of endless lectures about being responsible young girls and not giving themselves away to h0rny young boys or alcohol. Then the prayers… the long, exhausting prayers. One would think Sally and Cynthia were embarking on a long-distance journey… to a party that was merely a street away. At last, they were free to go.

As they approached the Taylor’s mansion, Cynthia pulled her roughly between two parked cars and ordered her to strip out of her gown. Sally’s eyes were like glistening orbs. She was aghast at the thought of stripping off her gown in the open, but Cynthia insisted.

“I’m not entering the party with you looking like a Togolese evangelist o. Who wears this mess in 2025? Ehn Sally? Why is your mom h£ll-bent on ruining your life???”

Long story short, Sally was forced to change. Cynthia brought an alternative dress that was shorter, sexier, and accentuated her slightly boyish figure and really full 36C b00bs. Though she was mortified at her makeshift dressing room, her confidence was greatly restored by her new look and hurriedly made-up face. Sally was no gorgeous beauty, but she had flawless dark skin, very thick, long hair, and really full b00bs that drove the boys crazy. She hoped Damilola would notice her and shoo all other girls away just to be with her. She kept her fingers crossed as they entered the Taylor's residence and headed to the back of the house, where the party was taking place by their expansive pool.

Three hours later, her crossed fingers had started to ache; she had drunk one too many malts, and now she was queasy. Aside from the leery looks, none of the boys approached her. She saw Damilola twice and they were just brief sightings. Her romantic fantasy crashed into a roaring nightmare as all the boys stayed away like she had a plague. This was what her mum always talked about. The rich kids stuck together and left the poor kids out in the cold. She and Cynthia sat alone at a table watching the rich kids flirt, dance and have fun. Some even stripped to their underwear and jumped into the pool. Outside the occasional “hi” that was thrown their way by a few audacious boys who had dared to be civil, no one spoke or addressed them. Sally became miserable. This was not how she had imagined things would go.

Deji appeared suddenly and staggered towards them with a leery smile. He was drunk and dripping from many dunks in the pool. Being Damilola’s Half-Indian cousin, Deji’s popularity with girls in the hood of Apapa was unrivaled. He, it was, who supplied Cynthia, Sally, and a few passable ‘hood girls’ with invites to the party. He often used his powers, as cousin to the Taylors, to sleep with any gullible girl who wanted to be associated with the family, and from what Sally gathered, Cynthia wanted that association badly! Deji had whispered something in Cynthia’s eager ears, and just like that, they vamoosed and left Sally all alone.

It was a quarter past 10 pm and past Sally’s 10 pm curfew. Most of Demilade’s friends had left, but Sally couldn’t. Not only was the party a huge disappointment, but Cynthia, her only companion, was nowhere to be found. She didn’t know where Cynthia was, but Sally suspected that she might be up to no good with Deji. She sat alone, gazing at the gleaming pool, and wondered what Damilola was up to. For some strange reason, she suspected that he was avoiding someone… her, perhaps; but she couldn’t be too sure. She had never spoken to him in her life, except in her daydreams. Damilola never seemed to notice her when she walked past him and his friends on the street or past their house. He never acknowledged her in reality, but they were lovers in her head.

With a frustrated sigh, she decided to go in search of Cynthia. She looked around the pool area, the makeshift bar and even the pool toilets but Cynthia wasn’t there. As Sally’s worry grew, so did her irritation. She was contemplating entering the Taylor’s house when Damilola chose that moment to emerge from it with a giggling Lillian in tow. She watched as he walked her to the Prado jeep that had come to pick her up and cringed as they kissed shamelessly beside the driver, who was old enough to be her father. Sally turned away, unable to take it. Her heart was broken. She was invisible to the love of her life and felt hot tears of frustration sting her eyes. With the resolve of a scorned teenager, Sally got up and made her way towards the gates just as they opened to let Lillian and her Prado out of the compound. Cynthia could find her way home whenever she chose to come out of wherever she was, Sally fumed. She was almost at the gate when a hand grabbed her. Turning angry eyes at the owner of the hand, she realized it was Damilola. Her hurt and frustration morphed into tears, and her eyes blurred. He looked at her with a compassion probably reserved for his pet dog.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answered crisply, wiping the tears away in childish indignation.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I can’t find my friend, and I have to get home before my mum comes looking for me.”

Damilola looked around the sparse gathering of people left at the party.

“Your friend must have left without you,” he told her, his concern confusing her.

Sally didn’t want his pity. She nodded and walked away, exiting the compound before he could utter another word. This was her very worst day and for some reason, she blamed her mother.

“How was the party?”

“Horrible! I hated it. I don’t know why I went there!”

Sally’s bedroom door slammed shut with a ferociousness that shook the furniture. Mama Sally sighed. She’d guessed it would be like this. Just like her, during her teenage years, Sally didn’t seem to fit in with the popular crowd. This was why she never allowed her attend any party. She knew it would always end up this way. Deciding to give Sally time alone to herself, Mama Sally locked the doors, turned out the lights and went to bed. She made a mental note to quiz her daughter tomorrow, about the slutty gown she wore back home this night.

Sally couldn’t sleep. She was mad at the world. Mad at being raised by a struggling single mother. Mad that they were poor. Mad that her best friend had absconded without her. Mad that Damilola ignored her at the party. After crying into her pillow for a while, she stripped off Cynthia’s gown and decided to take a shower. She was certain that her mother would have noticed the gown, but she was too upset to worry about her reaction. She showered, scrubbing her body furiously in a vain attempt at washing her sorrows away. After her shower, she slipped on her night shorts and satin spaghetti top and slipped into bed, determined to wish away Damilola Taylor from her life.

She woke up suddenly to a staccato tap on her window. Panic gripped her as she sat up in bed and stared at the window unseeingly, trying to decide what to do. She slowly got out of bed and tiptoed to the door when she heard a voice call her name. Torn between running away from her bedroom and investigating what or who was at her window, she heard the voice again. This time, she was certain it was Cynthia. She went to the window and peeked through the curtain, and sure enough, there was Cynthia, looking around her furtively and tapping on the window. Sally’s anger returned full blast. She quietly made her way to the back door in the kitchen and opened it slightly, making sure not to attract her mother with the creaking sound. Then she slipped out of the house. Cynthia met her at the back with a wan smile, which Sally reciprocated with a glare.

“I’m sorry Sally… I can explain; but I’ll do that when we get inside. It's so cold out here… is Psycho asleep?”

Sally didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and headed back towards the house.

“Guess who brought me home? Damilola…”

Those words froze Sally in her tracks. She turned to Cynthia in surprise, then looked around her, noting only blackness.

“Dami? As in Damilola Taylor?” She asked, her heart skipping a beat.

“Yes. He came to drop me off after Deji passed out, and there was no one to walk me home.”

“Where is he?” Sally could feel her excitement building.

“He’s out front, waiting to see if I can get in. He was upset that I abandoned you and told me you were crying as you left.”

Sally’s anger towards Damilola evaporated instantly. Without a word to Cynthia, she stealthily made her way to the front of the house, and sure enough, there was Damilola in his father’s Mercedes G-wagon SUV. He saw her and beckoned her over. Sally looked around to be sure no one was about and ran towards the car. She heard the security locks lift as she approached and quickly slipped into the front passenger seat. Without warning, Damilola started the car and drove away, heading in the direction of his house. Sally’s fear knew no bounds. As they approached the gates of the Taylor’s mansion, they opened immediately, and he drove into the garage and parked. He switched on the inner lights of the car and turned to her.

“Happy belated birthday, Sally…” he said with a smile.

Sally didn’t know what to make of this scenario. In all her daydreams, she always had something witty to say when she found herself alone with him. But this was real; this wasn’t a dream. She was seated right next to Damilola Taylor in shorts and a satin top on a chilly midnight, speechless. So many thoughts ran through her head as she stared at him. Up close, Damilola was a very beautiful boy, with full lips, long lashes, and surprisingly well-defined eyebrows.

“I’m sorry for whisking you away like that, but I didn’t want to talk in a brand-new G-Wagon, out on a lonely street in the middle of the night. I’ll take you home in a bit.”

All she could do was nod. He got out of the car and turned around to open the door for her. Holding her hand firmly, he led her to the pool at the back of the house and offered her a seat. Sally stared at him, mesmerized as he went to the now-empty bar, got two bottles of Smirnoff Ice, and brought them back to where she was seated, immobilized. He opened the bottles and handed one to her while he drank from the second one. They sat in silence for a while, he sipping his drink, she staring at him without touching hers. Sally suddenly started to shiver; the cool night air gave her chills. She tried to brace herself against the cold but couldn’t. Damilola noticed it and got up, holding out his hand to her.

“Come, let's swim.”

“S—swim? I’m c-co-cold.”

“You’ll feel better when you get into the water.”

Damilola grabbed her hand and led her to the side of the pool. Without a thought, he lifted her satin top and pulled it over her head. Her n!pples pebbled instantly as the air hit her full br£asts. She covered them shyly, avoiding his gaze. Damilola seemed oblivious to her action as he tugged down her shorts. She stepped out of them, caught in a sexual trance that she couldn’t quite understand. Next, he slipped out of his combat shorts and T-shirt, tossing them aside carelessly, and held out his hand for her as he walked to the edge of the pool. He was gloriously n@ked, and Sally tried hard not to look down at his private part. This was the first time she was seeing a p£nis… of course, she’d seen drawings and a couple on the internet, but never a live one. She was shy and uncomfortable, and suddenly, the water seemed like a cloak where she could hide her n@ked body. Damilola entered the pool and held out both hands to her to help her in. Soon they were both in the cold water.

She sank into the pool, leaving just her head above water, and remained in one spot, watching him swim vigorously back and forth, doing laps. He disappeared under the water several times and always surfaced near her. Dangerously close. Each time he surfaced, he stared into her eyes with an intensity that frightened her. She felt a sudden heat between her thighs, but she tried hard to mask it even though she was immensely uncomfortable with the foreign feeling. Despite her discomfort, her eyes never left him. He was gorgeous with his curly hair flattened on his head and his body glistening as the moon shone brightly on the pool.

He coerced her into doing a few laps with him and held her body close to his when they swam to the deep end of the pool. She began to relax after a few minutes and even managed a shy giggle when she felt his p£nis poke her buttocks as he tried to grab her from behind. Her inhibition dissipated and she actually found herself enjoying her moonlight swim with Damilola. Several times, he was so close to her that she thought he would kiss her but he didn’t. They swam for an hour till they became cold. Damilola led her to a small changing room and shared a huge bath towel with her. Though she was a novice, she could feel the sexual tension between them. She snuck furtive glances as his p£nis several times to see if he was ar0used by her. Sadly, she couldn’t really tell because he always seemed to turn away just before she got an eyeful. But she did get an ample view of his firm, fair butt. He ran back to the side to the pool and got their clothes. They got dressed in silence. Sally had a million things to tell him but couldn’t bring herself to say a word.

“I’d better take you home now” he said when they were both done dressing up.

Sally watched him from the corner of her eye as he drove her back home. She noticed, from the dashboard clock that it was almost 2:30am. A mixture of fear, frustration and resignation battled within her as he pulled up in front of her house and killed the engine to prevent noise. Sally sighed and turned to him.

“… am I that unattractive?”

He seemed taken aback and was silent for a few minutes. Then he reached for her hand and placed it on his crotch. Her eyes flew to his as she felt it throb; stiff as a pestle.

“I don’t take advantage of girls. Don’t get me wrong, if you offered yourself, I WOULD sleep with you; but your friend told me you turned seventeen a few days ago and that you’re still a virgin.”

Sally blushed furiously making a mental note to throttle Cynthia as soon as she entered the house.

“Oh…” was all she could say.

Damilola smiled at her obvious disappointment.

“Every fiber in my body wants to drag you back to my bedroom and make love to you till we both can’t breath but I won’t do it. You’re a sweet girl and I like you enough to fight the urge. You will thank me later.”

“You will thank me later”. Her mother’s favorite words. Sally smiled at him in resignation. Without warning, Damilola leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. A soft, slow kiss that quickly turned into urgency and intense need. He grabbed her close, running his hand over her br£ast, eliciting a soft moan from her. Just when Sally thought he was going to change his mind and move to second base, he let go of her reluctantly.

“I’m leaving for school tomorrow and won’t be back till December. I guess I’ll see you at the end of the year…”

Sally nodded and made to leave the car, but he held her back. He reached into the glove compartment of the car and handed her an envelope. She looked at it in confusion.

“Its a birthday gift. I couldn’t think of what to get you, so I decided to give you some money to buy something for yourself.”

Sally looked at the envelope in surprise. She wasn’t a magician but she guessed the money in there was more than N10,000. She was about to refuse it but he pressed the money into her palm forcefully.

“If you don't accept it, I’ll never speak to you again”

Sally’s hands closed over the envelope promptly. She muttered a shy thank-you, got out of the car and walked away hurriedly, eager to enter the house. Luckily, Cynthia had left the back door open. She managed to lock it without a sound and tip-toed into the bedroom. Cynthia was fast asleep and snoring lightly. Sally tucked the envelope inside her pillow. She would have loved to count the money but decided against it because she didn’t want to wake up her friend. She got into bed beside Cynthia and pulled the cover cloth over her cold body. She smiled at the thought of Damilola holding and kissing her. Her thoughts drifted to a haze as sleep snuck up on her almost immediately.

Damilola Taylor sat beside the pool drinking Sally’s untouched Smirnoff Ice. His thoughts were in disarray. He had avoided her at the party deliberately though he watched her from a hidden distance. Seeing Sally n@ked with her young full br£ast, innocent smile and lovely dark skin was the biggest test he had ever endured as a vibrant, sexual young man. And she smelled nice too. In his head, he did many things to her young body that would make a p0rn star embarrassed. And when they kissed, he wanted to drag her to the back of the car and make her a woman. But he couldn’t touch her. He wanted to… very badly too, but couldn’t.

Sally’s mother had visited him early the previous morning. The woman knew about her daughter’s crush and was willing to sacrifice N20,000 as a bribe to Damilola so he and his friends would stay away from Sally. The money only made him want her more. Everyone knew that Sally’s mother was struggling to care for her daughter single-handedly, and N20,000 was a lot of money for her to give up just to protect her daughter’s virtue. He had accepted the money with a solemn promise that neither he nor his friends at the party would speak to Sally, much less touch her, and had kept his promise, albeit barely. He wasn’t so sure he could do it again if he saw Sally n@ked one more time.

With a final swig, Damilola finished his drink and stood up tiredly. His ar0usal was still very evident through his shorts. As he walked towards the house, he hoped Sally would put her mother’s N20,000 to good use and prayed she would remain a virgin for him when he got back in December.

*Watch out for Part 2*