It was the end of his journey in JHS 2, and Kingstar was on the verge of completing his final year in Junior High School. With the Basic Education Certificate Examination (BECE) approaching, his thoughts were consumed by the idea of passing, not just for himself, but for his family, his reputation, and his future.
The pressure was mounting. Everyone in school had been talking about the upcoming exams, and Kingstar knew the stakes were high. He had managed to pull his grades back up after his disastrous second term, but now there was a new, more difficult challenge ahead: the BECE.
One afternoon, as he sat with his classmates during a study session, he overheard a conversation between two of his friends about a rumored way to make the exam easier memorizing the answers to the multiple-choice questions.
"Man, I've heard that the answers are always pretty similar every year. If we can just remember the answers to the first few questions, we might be able to pass without stressing so much," one of his friends said, grinning.
Kingstar felt a jolt of excitement. The thought of easily memorizing the answers and breezing through the exam seemed too good to pass up. After all, the pressure was intense. His parents were expecting results, and the thought of disappointing them again was unbearable. He had to make it.
The more Kingstar thought about it, the more it made sense. He decided to memorize the answers for the first thirty multiple-choice questions. He created a system, repeating the answers over and over in his head: B, C, A, A, B… He went through it daily, making sure he had them committed to memory. It was a foolproof plan. Failing was not an option.
Then came a conversation that would change everything.
During lunch one afternoon, a classmate whispered to him, "Ei Kingstar, this year we dey you back oo. If you get hint during the paper, just give we some signs."
Kingstar chuckled at first. "Signs? You mean like hand signals?"
"Yeah. A be thumb, B be your pointer finger, C be middle finger, D be the next... Just lift small under the table. We go understand."
It sounded ridiculous at first, but something about it stuck with Kingstar. The day of the first BECE paper arrived, and as he sat down with the question paper, he was surprised. The first few multiple-choice questions were exactly as he had practiced with his study group B, C, A, A, B...
His heart pounded. Could I really do this?
He looked around. His classmates sat frozen, panic written on their faces. Many were sweating. Then his eyes locked with one of his close friends, seated two rows away. The boy slightly nodded the silent plea was clear.
Kingstar slowly slid his left hand under the table and began to raise fingers, one at a time, barely noticeable to the invigilator. Thumb up: A. Index: B. Middle: C. Ring finger: D. That's all they needed.
One question after another, his classmates watched and copied. He wasn't sure why he did it. Was it loyalty? Pity? Or just the thrill?
By the end of the paper, the word had already started spreading. "Kingstar help some boys with signs during the paper!" Some saw him as a hero, others as a daring genius.
It didn't stop there. For every multiple-choice paper, they formed a silent code. His fingers became their guide. And though the invigilators never caught on, Kingstar began to feel something shift.
After the exams ended, Kingstar became a mini legend among his peers. People who barely talked to him before now called out his name. "Chale, the 'Sign Master'! Kingstar, you force!"
He enjoyed the popularity. The praise felt good. Even students from other schools had heard of the boy who used hand signs to help his mates in the BECE.
But one afternoon, after school, Irene approached him near the school's old music block. She had watched everything not just the signs, but the shift in him.
"So that's what you've become now?" she said gently. "You're popular now... for cheating?"
Kingstar's smile faded.
"I thought you said you'd do better. That you wanted to earn it the right way."
"I just… I didn't want to fail. They were all struggling. I only helped them a little," Kingstar said, defensive.
Irene sighed. "You're smart, Kingstar. But you're wasting that gift by taking shortcuts. Helping others is good, but not like that. One day, that shortcut will cut you off the right road."
Her words cut deep. He couldn't argue. He hadn't helped anyone learn he had just helped them escape. Including himself.
That night, lying on his bed, he repeated the same sentence to himself: "Next time, I'll do it right."