Omotola didn’t want school to be over as the day flew by fast. The unfamiliar feeling of being with kids her own age felt so good she began to enjoy herself even with uneasy feeling that she wasn't meant to be there and felt like an interloper, she loved her siblings but they were the only kids in the institute and she’d known them all her life, being with Valerie and Bisola although they were too carefree for her likening brought out another side of her she never knew existed.

The Omotola she'd seem to have replaced was quite popular with the other students but not with most of the teachers and looked to be the ringleader of a gang of refractory girls with the same talents for trouble making.

As the school bell shrilled to end classes’ activities for the day, she was herded out of the school between her new friends the same way she was herded in in the morning, Valerie reminded her to bring an extra pair of scarf for Monday sneak out.

“Monday sneak out; is that an extra school activity? Omotola asked and instantly regretted it as they shrilled with laughter.

“Of course not silly, you had me for a minute there cos I almost thought you was being serious, well if you had forgotten let me remind you, we’re sneaking out of the school on Monday miss ring leader, and oh your mom’s here, she’d better not see us for now, I’m scared of that woman, have a nice weekend boo.”

She saw her mother’s car swerved round the school’s parking space, the horn blare forced her into motion as she got in.

"How was your day sweetness” assumed mother asked.

“It was alright I guess,” she replied feeling both mildly pleased and irritated at the pet name.

“I know it’s been a trying week for both of us, when I took your cell phone a week ago you raged enough to bring down the roof but here you are, not dead yet, you really can exist without that blasted thing and I would have loved to let it stay with me for now if I wasn’t worried of calling you now and then.” Omotola mumbled an inaudible reply, hoping the woman wouldn’t see through the fraud she was.

The woman smiled fondly without taking her eyes off the road as she continued. “I guess we can put all that behind us and start the weekend on a clean slate, who knows you might get your iphone back, you know I do all this because I care about you sweetness, the punishments, the grounding and all, it’s just you and me against the world baby, I’m all you got and you’re all I’ve got.”

Omotola dutifully found the car window interesting, she was uncomfortable with the maternal affection, and she had a fainting feeling she was not supposed to be in the car with her mother but somewhere else instead, even thinking of it gave a her a throbbing headache, she was forgetting something and she was scared because she had no idea what or why, she felt that was supposed to be angry with someone, maybe the someone was her mother for confiscating her phone, she had never owned a phone does she? She sighed; thinking about it was just wearying.

Stolen story; please report.

As soon as they got home she automatic made for her room with that sense of familiarity like she could find her room blind folded, she fell sprawling on the bed, at the back of her mind she thought the bed used to be smaller.

Dinner was uneventful and she managed to survive the casual conversation without hitch as she wolfed down her plate of jollof rice and fled for the solace of her room. After brushing for the night she stared long at the mirror looking at her reflection, a mild confusion on her face, a longing ache stirred at her shoulder blades, she thought she used to have wings on her back, brown plumages if she could recollect, no not brown that color was for another, she chuckled to herself, she really must slow it on the sci-fi addiction she muttered as another mild headache invaded her thoughts, on saying this she jumped on the lush bed and was soon asleep.

The next day, she woke up without opening her eyes, the bright daylight forcing its way in through her eyelids told her the sun was already high in the sky, since when did her cubicle became this bright, she yawned and curled under her warm blanket enjoying the moment of bliss, better here than drills she yawned again.

“DRILLS!" she leapt a foot from the bed as if a bucket of cold water was poured on her. She stared at her room and began to laugh, the silly dream again, training drills, supernatural powers, a science facility. “Gosh! Omotola get a hold of yourself before they admit you into a mental home,” she chided herself as she navigated her way sleepily to the bathroom.

“Are you up yet love? She heard her mother yell from downstairs as she made war with her rebellious shaggy hair, her ally the comb was losing.

“Be down in a bit” she yelled back.

After calling a truce with her hair, she headed down to the kitchen and found her mother elbow deep in a bowl of flour; she wasn’t winning the fight either, Omotola smiled as she mumbled her greeting. Her mother smiled back, her green eyes sparkled with excitement despite her losing battle with the hardened flour.

“I’m trying to make us a breakfast of shawarma but the flour doesn’t seem to be in the mood to change to the paste it was supposed to like in the cookbook.”

“Have you tried breaking in a raw egg or two? Mixture might help the butter hold in the paste,” Omotola suggested.

“hmmn, how about add a spoonful of engine oil while we’re at it, miss genius, this is cookery not a lab test experiment she cheekily grinned, now get yourself an apron and help me here, the cookbook says nothing about adding eggs, I’m a law abiding citizen, always go by the book.

Omotola rolled her eyes as she searched the kitchen cabinet for a spare apron, “you should watch a video mom, less chance of disaster than with a cookbook, better still you should have simply bought the flat bread instead of going through all the trouble of making one.

“Now where’s your sense of adventure sweetness, whereas where's the fun in buying a ready made bread when you can make one yourself, and for your saucy tongue young lady, you will be taking over from me while I prepare the chicken strips and mixture for the grill.”

Omotola groaned and took over the flour rolling. They then spent the better part of the morning cooking and creating quite a stir, they bickered more over the egg mixture and her suggestion and then decided to try both, one with eggs and one without, Omotola skipped around the kitchen with a little dance of victory as her own experiment came out of the oven looking a lot closer to a bread than her mother’s, while the latter shrieked in mock outrage and chased Omotola round the kitchen with a rolling pin, as they laughed and caused quite a ruckus.

After breakfast, they spent the rest of the morning watching TV and cuddling on the sofa; Omotola had never felt so protected in her life, wishing the moment to last forever.

“I hope so too sweetness.” Her mother murmured into her hair, she must have said it loud enough for her to hear to reply so.