THE BLOOM ACADEMY – Every Day for the Thief…

“Do you recognise me?” she asked calmly. “Yesterday.”

By the next morning or better still, the Day of Reckoning, Kubwa woke up like it always did. Hawkers shouting, buses honking, Channel 10 breathing life before 9 a.m. ZNT Complex opened as usual, sharp 8 a.m., glass doors wide, AC humming, staff wearing rehearsed smiles. By 8:30, the hall was already full. Business was booming.

Then she walked in.

This time, she looked nothing like a superstar.

Ripped jeans. Faded polo. Slippers that had seen better days. Her hair was roughly plaited in all-back, no makeup, no perfume trail. She stood quietly on the queue, eyes darting around, confusion written on her face like a subtitle.

One of the cleaners glanced at her from head to toe.
“Wetin you want?”

“I want to buy a phone,” she replied softly.

She walked straight to the same shelf. Same phone. Same spot. Her fingers rested on it like déjà vu.

“How much be this one?” the cleaner asked on her behalf.

“Hold on,” the cleaner said and disappeared.

Moments later, she returned with Emma, the same staff who had escorted the ‘superstar’ customer to Mr. Ajala’s office the previous day.

Before anything else, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Grace! Grace! Come sharp sharp!”

Mr. Ajala’s voice. Loud. Commanding.

Grace, the cleaner, abandoned everything and ran into “Oga’s office.” She came out clutching his flask.

“I dey go buy beans,” she told her colleague casually. Then she nodded toward the lady. “See your customer o.”

And just like that, she vanished.

The lady pointed again. “How much?”

“Ninety-five thousand only,” Emma replied.

She sighed deeply. “Haa… but it’s ₦87,000 on your website.”

Emma laughed, short, sharp, dismissive.

“No be only! My sister, I don’t know which website you visited. Even if na ₦87k, do you know how long ago dem update am? You don’t even consider dollar rate, delivery, all these things. Think am na.”

She nodded slowly. “You are right… but I didn’t budget that much. Please help me.”

Emma leaned closer, voice dropping. “Call Oga at the top to do balance transfer.”

She blushed. “Which Oga? I don’t have any Oga.”

Emma smiled too quickly. “Lie! Fine babe like you? Haba. Oya see wetin I go do since you be my spec, pay ₦90k.”

She hesitated. Thought. Then nodded.

The transfer alert dropped.

“And SIM retrieval?” she asked.

“That one na just ₦1k.”

She smiled. “I’ll do it next time.”

Phone in hand, she turned to leave.

Then suddenly

FWEEEEEEEE!

A sharp whistle pierced the air.

Time froze.

Before anyone could blink, some “customers” pulled out guns. Others tore off caps and wrappers. Two old women straightened their backs, young men in disguise. Chaos erupted. Shouts. Screams. Phones dropping. People diving.

Mr. Ajala ran out of his office, panic flooding his face.
“What is happening?!”

The lady turned slowly.

“Do you recognise me?” she asked calmly. “Yesterday.”

His knees almost buckled. Emma couldn’t hold his pee.

“You are under arrest, Mr. Manager. Kindly cooperate.”

She straightened, voice changing – rough, commanding.

“The rest of you will come with us for questioning.”

“Special Agent Chinwe a.k.a. The Chameleon.”

Outside, sirens wailed.

At the gate, Bloom Academy students pressed against the windows, eyes wide, whispers flying. In the staff room, Madam Okoro fainted dramatically. Miss Ada stood still, heart racing.

And Grace?

Grace was just returning with her cooler of beans.

One look.

A perfect 180-degree turn.

And she ran.

Kubwa would never forget that morning.