“WHO’S THAT?!”

  “It’s Mum! Open up!”

  Rachael had arrived.

  “Not agaaaiiiiinn…” Elinqua groaned. He was tired of hiding things—not knowing this was just the beginning.

  In a burst of motion, he yanked off the special glasses, tucked them into their case, dashed to where he dropped his bag, slipped them inside with swift precision, and zipped the compartment shut.

  His regular glasses still sat on the table. He hadn’t changed out of his school uniform. Earlier, he’d hung his belt on the large three-seater couch—it had been digging into his waist—and ever since, his trousers had sagged embarrassingly due to a forgotten unzipped fly while he’d been observing the strange glasses.

  “TATTARRATTAT!!” His mom now pounded the door with a full fist, her voice rising with impatience.

  “ELINQUA!!”

  “I’m coming, Mummy!” he called back, snatching his belt off the couch. He made for the door and quickly swung the inner bolt—a local lock that worked almost as well as a key—and twisted the knob open.

  “Good evening, Ma,” he greeted, bowing low until his fists touched the ground, eyes holding a look of dread.

  "Is that how to greet?" She said

  "Good evening ma" Elinqua said as he postrated this time, his fingers and fists and toe heads contacting the ground for support and looked at her with a disgruntled look on his face

  “You were in the living room. Why didn’t you open the door quickly?” she demanded.

  Elinqua, having already devised a plan, set it into motion.

  “I was supposed to be resting inside by now…”

  If there was one thing Elinqua was truly weary of, it was lying.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  False lips often lead you down a path of doom without showing you traffic warning signs early enough.

  One moment they feel like lifesavers, the next they drown you—like cold Green Lipton on a troubled throat.

  Only truth, however inconvenient, is the available lifebuoy when the waves of trouble rise.

  But sometimes, there seems to be no choice.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “They signed our backs today.”

  “Signed? Who did that?”

  “Well… not ‘who’, actually.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s ‘what’.”

  After a pause, Rachael frowned, confused.

  “I don’t get your point. Can you stop all these intricate riddles and explain plainly?” Her tone was anxious but firm.

  “Cane. They used cane to design our backs. All of us.”

  “What?!”

  “Though we were flogged severely, I won’t blame the cane—it was just following orders from a soldier’s hand.”**

  “Wait… are you saying soldiers beat you?”

  “More than beat. A student even passed out from design overload!”

  “Are you serious?!”

  “The report said she went into shock. I’m not sure it’s true—but I can’t rule it out either.”

  “Was she already sick before it happened?”

  “Yes, good point. She was.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I doubt she’ll make it to school tomorrow,” Elinqua added grimly.

  “And worse, we had to sing their so-called ‘morale’ songs under the scorching sun.”

  “They made us lie down as the canes landed on our backs,” he said, turning to show the welts.

  “That’s why my uniform’s dirty,” he added, gesturing to the dusty front.

  “Thank God it wasn’t break time. If students were out, we’d have been the most touristed artefacts to observe.”

  "And what pains me most if that ever happened in the first place is, they would gather out of nowhere to form a spectating crowd like a football game is playing out, making wrong assumptions that might sporulate abroad the school premises." Elinqua conveyed his thoughts lengthily

  “Tell me what caused it,” Rachael said.

  “It started in Social Studies—usually boring. We were copying this eternal note. The bell rang, but the teacher kept writing. Everyone was drained. Noise didn’t help, but jokes did. Jokes started flowing… mostly from the back. They were making fun of the teacher. I didn’t join them though!”

  “Okay…”

  “They pushed him too far. Laughing became risky, but the silence didn’t hold. Someone leaked laughter and before you know what, it spread like wildfire. Couldn’t be contained. The teacher stormed out and brought soldiers. The rest is back history—literally.”

  "Can i say this tell you the truth, mum?"

  “I hate that school. And more importantly, I JUST HATE SOLDIERS! FULL STOP!” Elinqua shouted, full of frustration.

  Rachael, who had listened silently and intently, allowed him empty his full keg first...

  And then after some seconds of silence, she finally spoke.

  “Can I tell you something, Elinqua?” she asked softly, settling on the couch.

  “Yes, Mum?” he said, sitting across from her.

  “I know you’ve always wondered about your father. Maybe not directly, but the questions have lingered.”

  She looked him straight in the eye.

  “Your father… was a soldier.”

  “WHAT?!”

  Adrenaline took over, instantly surging through his body, taking his 'surprise' energy level to the next level.

  “You mean he carried a gun?!”

  “Yes.”

  “Like the ones that flog us in school?!”

  “Yes.”

  “At such a young age?!”

  “Yes.”

  “But you left him when you were pregnant, right?”

  “I met him when I was about 20.”

  Elinqua blinked, utterly confused.

  “As in, this math isn’t just mathing!

  One teaspoon of truth isn’t enough, Mum. There’s more you’re not telling me. Why did he leave you?”

  “A gallon of truth would still be just a teaspoon to you,” Rachael snapped.

  “The greatest truth is never enough—especially for you.”

  Elinqua was stunned. For once, his own question threw him off.

  His mum wasn’t just wise—she was sharp, articulate at that… perhaps more than he’d ever expected. Though oddly unexpected, he was not ready to give in.

  But, just as he was about to speak, his mum intercepted him...