‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Ah, ah. I have never, ever, ever seen you spray perfume before. Never.’ He called the attention of the rest, who were also preparing for school. ‘Make una come see o, Graveyard don begin dey use perfume.’

The one who had initiated the nickname poked his nose into the air and took in an unnecessarily deep breath.

‘You call this one perfume?’ he asked. ‘This one be like say na insecticide.’

I left them laughing and set off for the faculty with a spring in my steps. All their mockery was not enough to still the drumbeats of ecstasy in my heart.

That day, Ola did not show up at the library.

I did not set eyes on her until about a week later. While walking along the faculty main corridor, I saw her standing and chatting with a group of girls. My feet stopped beside her. The girls quit talking and looked at me. My larynx turned to stone.

‘Is everything OK?’ Ola asked, her face crumpling with concern.

Silence was my answer.

‘Would you like me to help you in any way?’

Her voice sounded like a beautiful flower. I could have composed several cantatas and penned unending epics merely by listening to her speak.

‘No, everything is OK,’ I replied at last. ‘I was just wondering… I haven’t seen you in the library for a while.’

She smiled. To think that she had created that smile especially for me.

‘Oh, everything is fine. Just that I was down with a bout of malaria and decided to take things easy. I hope you people haven’t taken my space in the library o.’

I chortled and assured her that ‘her space’ was still available. Not knowing what else to say, I remained clutching my folder to my chest and smiling like a portrait. It must be true what somebody once remarked, that shy men and ugly women have the hardest time of all in this world.