I typically steer clear of smaller events, especially those high school gatherings. Sure, I have talented boys who could easily take the stage and rock the party, but this particular client paid a pretty penny for my appearance. Clearly, he has a soft spot for his kid, so I decided to show up and bless the event with my presence.
As I kicked off my usual freestyle, the energy in the room was electric. Drinks were flowing, laughter filled the air, and then—out of nowhere—drugs began to seep into the atmosphere. I recognized the vibe; I once thrived in that party scene myself before trading it all for my current gig. But I was there to work and get paid, so I intentionally kept my distance from the chaos.
Then I saw him. A familiar face standing off in the corner, older than everyone else—definitely in his 30s. What on earth was a focking thirty-something doing in a teenage party? Our eyes met, and I felt a mix of curiosity and hesitation wash over me. I quickly looked away to avoid the awkwardness, but it was too late. He made his way through the crowd right to me.
“Is this you, Jide?”
“Wait, who are you? How do you know my name?”
With a laugh, he replied, “Lol, you don’t remember me? Na me Gbengus! Ahn ahn, you don forget me like that?”
Suddenly, it clicked. Gbengus! The legend from Bakersfield High! How had he gone from being a star student to showing up at a party full of teens? Maybe he was here on business, so I greeted him warmly, waved my boy off to keep the DJ going, and invited Gbengus to my little private area.
We grabbed some drinks, and he shared that he was indeed there on business and had spotted me. But something was off. He was scrawny and kept scratching his neck. If he was really here for work, why did he look so unwell? As we reminisced, I noticed a teenager call out to him, sparking my suspicion. The kid spoke angrily about “bringing you here to deal to my friends,” and my stomach dropped. 
I didn’t walk back to my stand but stealthily followed Gbengus. What I saw next shattered my heart. He took a position where a group of teens approached him. They exchanged quick words, then hands, money for something more sinister. He was dealing drugs! How had I missed it? The signs were all there—his frail frame and restless scratching—but I couldn’t believe it was happening.
This was Gbengus, the scholarship student who was admired by all. An A student who managed to balance it all—school during the day and clubbing at night—always landing at the top of his class. I used to envy his lifestyle, yearning to be part of it all. Going out with him felt like living a dream, as we slipped past the bouncers and into a world of freedom. But after my grades started to plummet, my father, a humble farmer struggling to afford my fees, threatened me with a cutlass after receiving my dismal report. 
Yet despite the risks, Gbengus soared through WAEC with flying colors, becoming the valedictorian and delivering a speech that brought us all to tears. We had visions of him achieving greatness in life. And now, here he was, sinking into the dark underbelly of drug dealing.
What happened to him? I had to find out.