We loathed her. We spent most of our evenings talking about how wide her bossom was and how big her feet were. We all agreed that she couldn’t be eighteen years old. She had to be at least twenty-nine. We also spoke of our pending rebellion. We dreamt of how sweet the smell of victory and freedom would be when, together, we finally put the tyrant Karen in her place and this dream pleased us so. Rachel, Clara and I had had it with Karen. She had turned us into her chauffeurs and guard dogs for her property. At first, we didn’t mind because we knew that it was our portion as “ebifoobe.” That’s what they called Senior One students. But now, we were half-way through Senior Two and we still couldn’t see the light at end of the tunnel. We doubted there was even a tunnel at all. Karen must have broken it into two and used each half as a nostril…or that’s what Clara’s explanation was for the wideness of Karen’s nose. The plan was supposed to have been foolproof. We had even made and signed handwritten agreements that the plan was to remain highly classified. This was necessary because Rachel suffered from a condition that caused her mouth to open involuntarily only to release secrets, spread rumours and manufacture lies. It was the only way she knew how to get people’s attention and make friends. It was also how she got punched in the face every now and then. We purchased a ripe avocado from the school canteen and crushed it to make paste. Then we added leaves, feathers, stones, grass; all the bizarre things we could find. We put the content in a polythene paper bag and attached a note telling Karen to either leave the school or die within twenty-four hours. On the day we put the content on Karen’s bed, Rachel couldn’t make it because apparently, she was sick. Karen calmly read the contents of the note, threw the polythene bag away and slept. I didn’t sleep. The next night and very many nights after that, neither Clara nor I could sleep in our beds. They were always wet because Karen generously supplied them with water.
