The bike coughed like it hated mornings.
Femi smacked it lightly.
"Ah, fck, don't embarrass me now."
It roared to life, rough and wheezy. Enough for a few deliveries . He rode off
Lagos wasn't quiet, not really. But this early?A little.
Streetlights flickered. Vendors were already shouting over frying oil and bread. Danfo drivers were already arguing, people weaving through chaos like it was normal. Femi didn't look. Same every day.
He checked his scratched, cheap watch.
"Fck… five minutes late."
Not for school, exactly. But graduation day? First-row seats, best spots for pictures, catching up with classmates. You didn't want to show up late and miss it. Not if you cared about the memories—or the bragging rights.
He leaned forward, gripping the handles. Tightened his jacket against the early wind.
The road bounced under him. Perfectly rough. A tight gap between a bus and a gutter. He didn't slow. Slide through. Clean.
He thought about the results. Final exams.
Bose would probably top it again. Too rich, too smart. Ayemoyi too, same story—lazy confidence, always winning. Femi? Not rich, not flashy, not top of the list. But he didn't need anyone else to get him through. He'd do this on his own. Always had.
He slowly drifted to the check points were two officers were in attendance
Two officers. Early shift.
"Where you going at this time " one of them asked
"Delivery," he said.
"Open it."
Femi unstrapped the box, showed it. Food, sealed. Officer barely looked, nodded, waved him through.
"Thanks."
He turned the engine back on, and was on his way.
Streets waking up. Traffic building. Voices. Bicycles. Motorbikes. Everything moving this was what he noticed as he moved along the wide road
He took a side street. Narrow, rough, avoided by most. Perfect for saving time. Smell of frying yam hit him. Bread. Oil. But didn't slow. Didn't look. Not like he could afford that at the moment, maybe after this delivery.
There was a gate ahead. Painted and faded. He and stopped and Knocked.
He waited as he heard the footsteps
"You're late."
"Traffic," oba said.
Gate opened. The man took the package, counted cash slowly, exact. Nothing extra!
"Next time, be earlier."
Gate clicked.
Femi got back on the bike. Turned it on and with the Engine steady. Thought drifting. Fuel low. Another delivery waiting. Maybe two.
Then voices.
"…Results are out."
"For real?"
"Yeah. This morning. Mainland too."
Eyes shifted. Classmates talking, laughing, like it was nothing.
Grip tightened for a moment, loosened. Femi exhaled quietly there wasn't any need to be embarrassed it's not like there was someone to fend for him what grabbed his attention was the results
Engine running. Roads louder now. People everywhere, voices, engines, chaos.
And him? Just another kid, moving, thinking. But deep down… that spark. Today might be different.