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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Beginnings

The rooftop lounge doors creaked open after assembly, and the once bubbly chatter instantly died down.

Every student turned. 😳

In stepped Mr Bamidele, AllStars Foundation College's most feared Mathematics teacher. 😬

His crisp white shirt looked like it had been ironed by angels, buttoned all the way to the neck, and his patterned tie practically screamed geometry. Black shiny shoes clicked against the tiled floor as he walked in, each step announcing discipline has arrived. 😤

Under one arm, he carried three fat textbooks namely Further Maths, Pure Maths, and Calculus Advanced. In the other, a long well used cane that had probably corrected more equations than pencils ever had. His glasses sat perfectly on his nose, his low fade haircut looked fresh from NYSC camp, and he smelled faintly of menthol and chalk. 😂🔥

"Good morning, class," he said in his deep firm voice.

"Good morning, sir," the students chorused; half in fear, half in respect. 😔

The rooftop lounge, now their official senior classroom with glass walls overlooking the tennis court, transformed instantly into a graveyard. Even the Gen Z baddies dropped their slang for silence. 😶

Mr Bamidele placed his books and cane on the teacher's desk, a desk no one had ever seen anyone use, and coughed lightly.

"It's good to see you all again," he began. "You're now big boys and girls. I won't be actually teaching today, I was instructed not to. Instead…"

He paused for effect. 😐

"This academic session will be different. Each of you will belong to a study group of five students. Every group will record your weekly progress. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the class responded in unison, their faces far from happy. 😩

"And one more thing," he continued. "Five top scorers from Royal Academy will be joining your class next week on scholarship. They'll also be writing the SSCE with you. Who's excited?"

Silence. Then a quiet irritated murmur rippled through the room. 😒

A hand went up.

"Yes, Olamide, you have a question?"

Olamide, also known as MideFlex, leaned back in his seat. The class sport prefect, richest boy, and unbothered celebrity in training. He was the kind of guy whose smile could both charm and annoy you. 😎

"So the five Royal students will join us this session?" he asked.

"Yes," Mr Bamidele replied simply.

"Hmm. This lounge is already perfect with us inside," Olamide said with a smirk. "Hope they don't mess up the vibe." 😏

"I don't get your point," the teacher frowned. 😠

"No problem, sir," Olamide continued teasing. "Just saying... the guys better have vibes, and the girls... full package. You feel me?" 😅

"Bro, what are you saying in front of the teacher?" BigDave muttered, catching on to his nonsense. 😤

"Shhh. Nobody asked you," Olamide shot back. "Our senior year is supposed to be the best time of our lives. I don't want any gutter skinny girl beside me." 😒

Mr Bamidele's stare could've burned through a chalkboard. 😡 "I'm not giving you an option, I just relayed information, you have no say on it," he said coldly. "Form your study groups and submit the list before closing. Good day."

And just like that, he walked out. 🚶‍♂️

Within seconds, the noise level tripled. 😅

"Will you be in my study group?" BigDave asked AraBaddie, the brilliant girl with straight A's and zero tolerance for nonsense.

"No, thanks. I'll pass." 🙄

"But everyone has to be in one."

"I said no," she snapped. "Why should I? I always get straight A's."

"I also get straight A's," Dave grinned. "Anyway, I'm writing your name already." 😏

Before she could stop him, he scribbled her name on a sheet, and the two ended up chasing each other around the lounge like toddlers. 😂

Meanwhile, Lolade, the Head Girl, Miss AllStars 2024, the red afro cut billionaire kid, and queen of calm sarcasm, turned to her childhood friend.

"Flex, what's up? Let's make our group."

"My name is MideFlex, dummy," he replied, smirking. "Who's filling the remaining three spots though? I don't even like reading." 😎

"Who wants to join Flex's study group?" Lolade called out. 📣

Half the class raised their hands immediately. 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️

"I will!" a girl shouted.

"Not for free, fangirl," Lolade said flatly. The class gasped. 💔 that one stung. 😬

BigDave, still catching his breath, called out, "Let's join, Lolade! AraBaddie's in too, that makes us four."

Lolade grinned. "Not for free, Dave. Pay ten dollars." 😏

"You're such a thief, Senior Girl," a calm voice cut in. 😮

Every head turned. It was Gift, the assistant class rep, soft spoken, mixed blood, half white and half Nigerian. She came from a rich family built on cryptocurrency, a family once based abroad before tragedy struck and forced them to relocate to Nigeria. Since then, Gift had become the quiet one, always polite and observant, speaking only when she needed to. 😔

"Excuse me?" Lolade blinked.

"The money won't go to me," Lolade said quickly. "It's for snacks or anything we buy as a group."

"Then I'm in," Gift replied with a smile. 😊

Lolade looked at her curious for a while then announced proudly, "Study Group Flex... now complete!" 🎉

The others groaned loudly, realizing this group was going to be pure drama. 😩

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