Ikemefuna will never get fat. He was the type of person who could eat endlessly without gaining an ounce. It was astonishing to see him consume large amounts of food without any visible weight gain. A good wonder as I watched in envy as he effortlessly glided from one chair to another in the cafeteria, laughing and whispering with the girls.
I wanted his life. Such perfection – his slender, tall, and handsome physique. He was so captivating that all the girls he interacted with showered him with attention and affection. They touched him, some in a modest Christian way that didn’t go unnoticed and some in an open carnal manner.
As I sipped on a Coke and devoured a doughnut, I couldn’t help but feel envious. Ikemefuna had eaten the same treats just moments before, yet his body seemed immune to the calories. I couldn’t resist the temptation to indulge, thinking that if he could do it, why couldn’t I? But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just about the food – it was about the injustice of it all. One person got to have it all, while I felt like I was stuck in a perpetual state of inadequacy.
I was the antithesis of Ikemefuna in every way. Where he was slender and graceful, I was rotund and clumsy. My body seemed to absorb every calorie, every morsel of food with alarming efficiency. Rolls of flesh hung over my belt, and my cheeks were perpetually flushed and puffy. When I walked, I waddled, my thighs chafing uncomfortably with each step. My ill-fitting school uniform strained at the seams, buttons threatening to pop at any moment.
However, what I lacked in looks, I compensated with my brains and so while Ikemefuna had all the girls for a while, they came back to me when it was time for Maths, English, Physics and Chemistry. But despite my academic prowess, I couldn’t help but feel like I was living in Ikemefuna’s shadow. The girls would praise me for my academic achievements, exclaiming, “Cheta, you’re the best!” “Your head is too hot!” and “Man like Cheta!”
But their admiration was always tempered with distance. They would never touch me or smile at me the way they did with Ikemefuna. I knew then that no matter how hard I tried, no one would ever find me attractive and then the hate started creeping in.
Months later, when they asked why I did it in the juvenile home I was confined to. I told them it was a social experiment, I was a science student and just wanted to see if what our chemistry teacher said about hydrogen peroxide was true.
So I poured a little into a can of juice and convinced Ikemefuna to taste it and see if he could tell the difference between that brand and another.
Poor Ikemefuna, as innocent and as stupid as he was commented on the strange smell but drank it anyway. I felt the strange pull to stop him and confess what I wanted to do but the resentfulness I felt towards him was greater than anything else.
He started to laugh afterwards and told me it tasted awful. I wasn’t expecting an immediate result. In fact, I didn’t know what to expect but I knew that the foaming from his mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his socket and his muscles contorting in ways that seemed impossible was insane.
That image of him haunted me for days even after he was confirmed okay by doctors and I was withdrawn from school.
It didn’t make sense to say I wanted the life of a classmate so bad that I had tried to harm him out of envy, so I concocted a story about a social experiment gone wrong.
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