June 2006 Tolu my elder sister had such beautiful legs longer than mine. We were two little gifts the heavens blessed our mother with. We’d hold hands, walking down the streets. We had similar gaits. Our legs moved in the same direction, our arms swinging with the same gusto.Tolu and I were two sides of a coin. Her hair was soft and silky, but mine would always grow tufts no matter how long I matted it inside water. Tolu’s yellow face would always lighten up a room like a glitter of an electric bulb. The smooth texture of her skin glowed against the darker shade of mine. “Black girl,” Tolu called, teasing me. We were inside the one-bedroom apartment we shared with neighbors. We were ransacking the whole place, searching for Tolu’s stocking. “Don’t call me that, I’m brown-skinned, not black,” I corrected. Tolu smirked. It wasn’t a smirk after all, it was that glorious stance she kept her face that often worked up the veins in my forehead. “Why are you laughing? Who is shining teeth with you?”I told her, pursing my lips. She didn’t stop. She kept her face that way. The door creaked, Mother entered, a scowl on her face. “Have you found your stocking?” Tolu’s back was bent beside the wardrobe. She didn’t say a word. “No, mama. She hasn’t found it yet,” I replied. “This girl is so so clumsy.” Mother sputtered in annoyance. I craned my neck, gazing at Mother, a supportive stare. It was in moments like this that I felt tall, taller than Tolu, almost sizing up to Mother because Mother was a few inches taller than Tolu. And mother was the bearer of all the authorities in the house. Despite Mother’s unquenchable love for us, most especially for Tolu, she didn’t hesitate to hit Tolu each time she loses any of her things. Mother had once dashed Tolu a hot slap for misplacing our garri turner. Tolu was always careless with everything, and it came as a result of her being too carefree. This morning, Mother didn’t slap Tolu with her backhand, instead, she instructed her to go to school without a stocking so we wouldn’t be late. Tolu would face the wrath of whoever would stand to punish her in school. August 2009 Tolu’s school uniform got missing. This was the morning she was to write her last paper for the SSCE examination. I was seated beside Mother inside the kitchen, watching her fan the lukewarm embers alive. Tolu breezed in, her breath heavy. “Bisi, did you see my skirt?” she asked me. I threw my face away. Mother was busy with the fire that she didn’t hear Tolu at first. Tolu walked closer to me, moving my elbow. Mother turned from the fireplace, her face trapped in smoke in a way that her eyes were squinted. “Kilode?” Mother spluttered. “Mami,” Tolu’s voice began to quiver. “I can’t seem to find my school uniform.” “You can’t seem to find your school uniform? Where did you keep it?” “We washed them yesterday when it was about to rain. I told Bisi to help me bring them in because you sent me to Mama Iya’s place. I can’t find them now in the room.” “Egba mi ooo!” Mother’s scream stretched, barraged to the threshold of the compound. She stirred, fixing a questioning gaze upon me. “Where is your sister’s uniform?” “Mami, I brought them in oo. I even ironed both clothes. Mine and hers.” There was no fleck of doubt in Mother’s eyes. She stood up, and hacked a hand on Tolu’s ear, threatening to pluck it out. I planted a hand on my mouth, suppressing a burst of loud laughter. It was a pleasure watching as Tolu writhed in pain, hitching up a cry as Mother dragged her into the room. Soon, Tolu went to school and she was sent back home. Barred from taking the final exam. This made Mother detest the sight of her. Tolu was no longer her little fair princess. I swept and scrubbed her gritty presence away and took her place in Mother’s heart. Tolu’s results were withheld for absenteeism on her last paper. April 2011 As if losing out on her set wasn’t enough, Tolu joined my set. We were to take the exams together because Mama had vehemently refused to buy her another form the year after. We were walking to the venue, where we had extracurricular classes, somewhere in the heart of our street. The room with plaque number 3 hanging on its door was our classroom. In this lesson center, there was a fat girl, Confidence, whose armpits were often damp and brown and she smelt like a pig. Confidence was always eating. Tiny Ijeoma, a smallish girl, was Confidence’s bosom friend, they both shared the same love for food. There were boys too. Tall boys. Beautiful boys. The tallest of all the boys was Daniel Kwadwo. Daniel was dark. Born of a Yoruba father and a Ghanaian mother. His blackness was a blend of everything black. I used to think I was dark until I met Daniel. I used to think we would be a perfect match until he stopped us shortly, one evening, in the corridor as we were leaving the classroom and said, “Hi, beauties.” I began to blush inside, rolling my eyes uncontrollably, smacking my lips when I told him, “Hello, handsome.” Tolu gazed at me, dazed. She hissed and pulled my hand, I shoved her hand away, staggering back. At that moment, Daniel made a move, his figure was cropped between Tolu and me. I wasn’t conscious of the fact that he was scrambling for Tolu. When Tolu paused, shaking her legs, tending to her flurry of fury by the sight of Daniel standing before us, motionless, gazing at her. I looked lost, feeling everything all at once like I had always felt — jealousy, anger, diffidence — toward Tolu. That night, Daniel was in my dream. The sky looked