Fraudulent Expectations

Ezikiel woke up feeling like a new man.

Unfortunately, he still looked like the old one.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Same face.

Same hair.

Same suspicious-looking pimple near his forehead.

He leaned closer.

"At least you're consistent."

He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and examined his reflection again.

Nothing had changed overnight.

No sudden glow-up.

No mysterious jawline.

No miraculous transformation into the kind of guy whose Instagram pictures received hundreds of likes.

Ezikiel sighed.

"Fine. We do things the hard way."

He had spent most of the previous night planning his rise to greatness.

His notes app contained a list of objectives, several questionable strategies, and a drawing of himself standing beside a sports car.

The drawing was terrible.

He had labelled the car so nobody would mistake it for a refrigerator.

Still, it represented ambition.

And ambition, Ezikiel believed, was the first step towards success.

The second step was money.

The third step was figuring out how to get the money without doing anything too exhausting.

He was still working on that part.

"Ezikiel! Breakfast!"

His mother's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He grabbed his phone and hurried downstairs.

His mother had already left his breakfast on the table. She was busy getting ready for work, moving between the kitchen and the sitting room while checking something on her phone.

"Don't forget your assignment," she reminded him.

"I won't."

"And stop staying up late."

"I don't."

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

"Okay," he admitted. "I sometimes don't."

"Sometimes?"

"Occasionally."

She shook her head.

"Just go to school."

Ezikiel smiled.

"Love you too."

He ate quickly, picked up his bag, and headed out.

Today, he had a mission.

He was going to observe the school.

Study the social hierarchy.

Identify opportunities.

And, most importantly, determine why certain people seemed to receive attention simply for existing.

It was a scientific investigation.

Nothing more.

***

By the time Ezikiel arrived at school, the compound was already noisy.

Students crowded around the entrance. Some were discussing homework, others were comparing phones, and a few were gathered around someone's desk near the courtyard, laughing at a video.

Ezikiel walked through the gate with the confidence of a man who had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

He spotted Chidi near the basketball court.

As usual, Chidi had attracted a small crowd.

He was the kind of guy who made popularity look effortless. He played basketball well, dressed neatly, and seemed to know everyone.

Girls liked him.

Boys respected him.

Teachers generally liked him because he was good at sports and rarely caused trouble.

He wasn't perfect, but he didn't have to try very hard to be liked.

Ezikiel found this personally offensive.

Not because Chidi had done anything wrong.

That was the annoying part.

Chidi was actually a decent guy.

He greeted people when he passed them, helped classmates when they needed it, and didn't seem interested in making anyone feel inferior.

He had never bullied Ezikiel.

He had never insulted him.

He had barely spoken to him.

And somehow, that made Ezikiel's jealousy even more embarrassing.

It was difficult to hate someone who hadn't given you a reason.

Ezikiel watched Chidi make a clean shot into the basketball hoop.

The students around him cheered.

Ezikiel looked down at his own hands.

He had once tried playing basketball.

The ball had hit him in the face.

He had decided that sports were a government conspiracy designed to humiliate people like him.

"Stop staring."

Ezikiel turned.

Samuel stood behind him.

"I'm observing."

"You're staring at Chidi like you're planning to steal his identity."

"Interesting idea."

Samuel blinked.

"That was a joke."

"Was it?"

"Mostly."

Daniel appeared beside them, chewing on something.

"Are we talking about Chidi?"

"No," Ezikiel replied.

"Because I heard someone say his name."

"That's how conversations work, Daniel."

Daniel ignored him.

"He's playing against the seniors today. I heard he's really good."

Ezikiel sighed.

"Of course he is."

Samuel adjusted his glasses.

"What's your problem with him?"

"I don't have a problem with him."

"You've been staring at him for five minutes."

"I'm studying his success."

"That sounds like a problem."

Ezikiel folded his arms.

"Imagine being so naturally cool that you don't even have to think about it."

Samuel looked at Chidi.

Then back at Ezikiel.

"Imagine being so naturally annoying that you don't even have to think about it."

Daniel burst out laughing.

Ezikiel pointed at Samuel.

"One day, your mouth will be your downfall."

"At least I'll have a downfall. You haven't had a rise yet."

Daniel laughed harder.

Ezikiel walked away.

He needed better friends.

Preferably ones with lower intelligence and higher loyalty.

***

His first class was mathematics.

His second was English.

His third was the beginning of his suffering.

Ezikiel had barely sat down when a hand reached over his desk and snatched his pen.

He looked up.

Brandon stood beside him, turning the pen between his fingers.

Brandon was tall, loud, and permanently convinced that being annoying was a personality.

Beside him stood Marcus, who usually laughed at Brandon's jokes even when he didn't understand them.

They had been making Ezikiel's school life difficult for months.

Sometimes it was small things.

Taking his belongings.

Mocking his answers in class.

Calling him names whenever a teacher wasn't close enough to hear.

Other times, they made sure everyone noticed.

Ezikiel had tried ignoring them.

He had tried reporting them.

He had even tried making jokes back.

Nothing had worked for long.

Brandon had a talent for turning almost any situation into an excuse to humiliate somebody.

"Nice pen," Brandon said.

"Thanks. I bought it with money."

Marcus laughed.

Brandon looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, go ahead. Explain the joke."

Ezikiel held out his hand.

"Can I have my pen back?"

Brandon examined it.

"Your pen?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Ezikiel stared at him.

There were moments when he genuinely wondered whether people like Brandon had been dropped on their heads as children.

"There's my name on it."

Brandon turned the pen around.

Sure enough, Ezikiel's name was written along the side.

Brandon shrugged.

"Could be another Ezikiel."

"Yes. There are millions of us. We're actually planning a meeting next weekend."

Marcus laughed again.

Brandon's expression hardened.

"You're getting brave."

"No. I'm getting impatient. There's a difference."

For a moment, neither boy spoke.

Then Brandon tossed the pen onto Ezikiel's desk.

It rolled off the edge and landed on the floor.

"Pick it up."

Ezikiel looked at the pen.

Then at Brandon.

He could feel the familiar anger rising in his chest.

The worst part wasn't the pen.

It was the way Brandon looked at him, as if Ezikiel's discomfort was something he had earned the right to enjoy.

Ezikiel bent down and picked it up.

Brandon smiled.

"Good boy."

Ezikiel straightened.

He wanted to say something.

Something sharp.

Something that would make the room go quiet.

Instead, the words stuck in his throat.

Brandon walked away, satisfied.

Marcus followed him, laughing.

Ezikiel sat down.

He stared at the pen in his hand.

Then he opened his notebook and wrote a sentence in the margin.

ONE DAY, YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THIS.

He looked at it.

It sounded dramatic.

He liked that.

He underlined it twice.

***

At lunchtime, Daniel found Ezikiel sitting alone behind the classroom block.

Daniel dropped onto the bench beside him.

"Why are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding."

"Then why are you sitting behind a building?"

"I'm appreciating architecture."

Daniel looked at the wall.

"It's ugly."

"Exactly. I appreciate the honesty."

Daniel laughed.

Then he noticed the expression on Ezikiel's face.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Ezikiel."

"What?"

"You have the face you make when you're pretending something doesn't bother you."

Ezikiel looked away.

Daniel was usually oblivious to everything.

It was irritating when he occasionally noticed something important.

"Brandon took my pen," Ezikiel admitted.

Daniel frowned.

"Again?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Then why are you sitting here?"

Ezikiel didn't answer.

Daniel leaned back.

"You should tell a teacher."

"I have."

"And?"

"Nothing happened."

Daniel's expression changed.

For once, he didn't have a joke.

"That's messed up."

Ezikiel shrugged.

"What can you do?"

Daniel was quiet for a moment.

Then he nudged Ezikiel's shoulder.

"Well, if you become rich and famous, remember that I was your friend before you became insufferable."

Ezikiel smiled despite himself.

"You think I'll become rich and famous?"

"I think you'll become something."

"Something?"

"Yes. I haven't decided what yet."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming."

"That's what friends are for."

Ezikiel laughed.

And for a few minutes, the day felt less terrible.

Then Samuel arrived carrying his lunch.

He stopped in front of them.

"Why are you both sitting behind the building?"

"Architecture," Daniel replied.

Samuel looked at the wall.

"Terrible architecture."

"That's what I said!"

Samuel sat down.

He glanced at Ezikiel.

"Brandon bothering you again?"

Ezikiel sighed.

"Can we not talk about him?"

"Fine."

Samuel opened his lunch.

A moment passed.

Then he added, "But if you're planning to do something stupid about it, tell us first."

Ezikiel stared at him.

"Why?"

"So we can stop you."

Daniel nodded.

"Or help you."

Samuel looked at him.

"That's precisely what I'm afraid of."

Ezikiel laughed.

He didn't know what the future held.

But at least he had two idiots willing to stand beside him.

It was something.

For now.

***

That evening, Ezikiel returned home and opened his laptop.

He had spent the entire school day thinking about one thing.

Not Chidi's popularity.

Not the basketball game.

Not even the fact that Brandon had treated him like a servant.

He kept thinking about the shaman's warning.

If people decided what you were, you could end up trapped in their expectations.

At the time, Ezikiel had dismissed it as an attempt to sound wise.

But now, sitting alone in his room, the words bothered him.

He opened his notes app.

OPERATION: BECOME SOMEBODY.

He read the list again.

Become rich.

Become popular.

Get a girlfriend.

Make Chidi jealous.

He considered the fourth objective.

Then deleted it.

There was no point making Chidi jealous.

The guy hadn't done anything to him.

Besides, if Ezikiel wanted to become somebody, he needed to stop measuring himself against other people.

He stared at the empty space beneath his list.

Then typed a new objective.

MAKE PEOPLE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.

He leaned back.

That was better.

It wasn't about becoming Chidi.

It wasn't about becoming Brandon.

It was about becoming someone nobody could casually dismiss.

Someone who could walk into a room and hold his head high.

Someone who could speak without worrying about being laughed at.

Someone who could finally stop feeling like an extra in his own life.

Ezikiel smiled.

"Now we're talking."

He closed the notes app and opened his browser.

The shaman's business listing was still saved in his history.

He clicked it.

The same advertisement appeared.

WISDOM, FORTUNE AND SPIRITUAL SOLUTIONS.

Ezikiel read the description again.

Then he noticed something he hadn't paid attention to the previous night.

At the bottom of the listing was a message.

CUSTOMERS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR OWN DECISIONS.

Ezikiel stared at it.

Then he laughed.

"Of course they are."

He closed the page.

He had no intention of returning to the shaman.

Not yet.

He would figure things out himself.

He was intelligent.

He was resourceful.

He could make a plan.

And he was absolutely certain that his life was about to change.

He just didn't know how.

***

The following morning, Ezikiel arrived at school to find Daniel waiting near the entrance.

Daniel was unusually excited.

"Bro! You won't believe what happened!"

Ezikiel adjusted his backpack.

"What?"

"Someone told me that Chidi is looking for people to join his basketball practice group."

Ezikiel blinked.

"Okay?"

"And I told him you might be interested!"

Ezikiel stared at Daniel.

"You did what?"

Daniel smiled nervously.

"I thought it would be good for you."

"I can't play basketball."

"You can learn."

"The last time I tried, I nearly lost an eye."

"That was one time."

"The ball hit me in the face."

"Exactly. You survived. Character development."

Ezikiel opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He wanted to be angry.

He really did.

But Daniel looked so pleased with himself that it was difficult.

"Did Chidi say anything?"

"He said you could come if you wanted."

Ezikiel looked across the courtyard.

Chidi stood near the basketball court, talking to two other students.

He glanced in Ezikiel's direction and gave him a casual wave.

Ezikiel awkwardly waved back.

There was no mockery in Chidi's expression.

No hidden insult.

Just a friendly invitation.

For some reason, that made Ezikiel feel worse.

Because he couldn't blame Chidi for being popular.

He couldn't blame him for being good at basketball.

And he couldn't blame him for offering an opportunity.

The problem was that Ezikiel had spent so long thinking about how unfair his life was that he had started treating everyone else's happiness like a personal insult.

He looked at Daniel.

"You're an idiot."

Daniel grinned.

"Your idiot."

Ezikiel sighed.

"Unfortunately."

The bell rang.

Students began moving towards their classrooms.

Ezikiel followed them, his mind already working.

Maybe he didn't need magic.

Maybe he just needed a plan.

A real one.

Something he could build with his own hands.

Something that would make people notice him for the right reasons.

He entered the classroom and took his seat.

Brandon was already there.

The boy glanced at him, then at the pen in Ezikiel's hand.

He smirked.

"Nice pen. You buy that yourself?"

Ezikiel looked at him.

For once, he didn't look away.

"Yes."

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just answering your question."

Brandon stared at him for a moment.

Then scoffed and turned away.

It was a tiny victory.

Barely worth mentioning.

But Ezikiel noticed it.

And for the first time, he wondered whether he could change the way people treated him without changing who he was.

He opened his notebook.

At the top of a fresh page, he wrote:

OPERATION: BECOME SOMEBODY.

Then he added a new line.

STEP ONE: STOP ACTING LIKE A VICTIM.

He looked at it for a long moment.

Then, beneath it, he wrote something else.

STEP TWO: FIGURE OUT HOW.

He smiled.

The lesson began.

And Ezikiel, for once, paid attention.