The Soles Of Damini Manor

CHAPTER 7: MACBETH AND LADY CARROT HEAD

Kola

Grandma told me Kolapo means 'abundance of wealth.'

I wondered why because my family had been wealthy since before I was born, so I didn't really bring them a fortune. Mom corrected me, explaining that it didn't have to be monetary wealth. She said that wealth was just a huge supply of a certain resource. Well, I must be wealthy in courage because here I am, going down the staircase in my school uniform and the same wingtip shoes I found in the library yesterday.

"Morning Kola, I made fried sweet potatoes and tomato eggs," Deb announces with pride when I enter the kitchen.

I nod in response, perching myself on the kitchen stool. Kanyin is late as usual, and since I told her she's not allowed to wear those shoes, she's probably spending a lot more time upstairs searching for what shoes to wear.

Deb plates a steaming hot plate of sweet potatoes glistening with oil alongside a large helping of fried, scrambled eggs, the presence of tomatoes obvious with its reddish appearance.

I watch Deb sit on a stool opposite me, her plate of food in front of her.

"What are you waiting for? Try it. It's really good," she says, nodding toward the food before me.

Memories of our chat come flooding back, and I'm suddenly conscious.

My upper lip curves into a smile. "No, you should definitely try it first. As my elder, of course," I say in a polite voice, hoping she takes my bait.

I shouldn't have doubted my bait because Deb's eyes shine like someone who has just won the lottery.

"Yayyy, you're finally showing me the respect I deserve," she sings, grabbing her fork before taking a big bite of her sweet potatoes and following it with a forkful of eggs.

I don't miss every movement of her mouth, from how slowly she chews before the food's heat subsides and her pace increases.

She finally swallows and catches my gaze on her, but before she can speak, a clicking sound resonates around the room as Kanyin walks in. She has taken a different approach to her uniform today. Instead of the black sweater vest, she has on a black V-neck long-sleeve sweater with white stripes at the hems, black suede thigh-high boots, and underneath is not the school's khaki skirt but a white collared shirt dress, that barely skims past her thighs. In conclusion, my sister isn't wearing the school uniform. She just combined a couple of her clothes to match the school colors and winged the rest.

How convenient.

Deb nearly falls from her seat, her eyes wide like saucers. "Kanyin, what are you wearing? This isn't Iroko's uniform," Deb says, her mouth parting in disbelief.

Kanyin flips her unpacked braids, sashaying further into the kitchen, "Some students aren't following the school rules, why should I?" she asks, settling on the kitchen stool next to me.

"By some students, you mean that Carrot Head you complained about?" I ask.

Kanyin takes a forkful of eggs, ignoring her sweet potatoes. "She wasn't the only one," she answers.

I roll my eyes at the vagueness in her response before finally taking a bite out of my food.

"Wow," I whisper to myself, the spicy and savory taste of the sweet potatoes and eggs molding their flavors in my mouth.

Deb places a cup of water before me. "It's nice, right?" she asks with a smirk. "Now you know I didn't poison you," she says before heading to the sink.