"Campus life isn't school—it's survival. Lecturers are wild cards, classrooms are battlegrounds, and the front row is for the brave."
—Zayne Adedayo
6:03 AM — Monday
If there's one thing you should know about university life, it's this: first lectures are sacred.
Miss your first class, and you've already offended the gods of CGPA.
That's why, by 6:03 a.m., I was already fully dressed in a freshly ironed shirt, cheap black jeans, and the last remaining pair of white sneakers I'd brought from home.
Ugo, however, was still snoring like an air compressor.
"Ugo. Wake up. It's time."
"Mmmrm… tell the lecturer to start without me."
"It's our first class."
"Exactly why I should sleep well. We haven't disappointed them yet."
I sighed and threw his bedsheet off.
7:15 AM — The Stampede Begins
By the time we reached LT2, the lecture theatre was already packed. Students were pushing for front row seats like it was a BTS concert. Bags were used as placeholders, tempers were flaring, and some were even sitting on the staircase.
"Ah! First year wahala," Ugo groaned. "This looks like NYSC camp."
"Bro, we need to enter. That lecturer has a reputation."
We found a spot near the side wall, not far from the front. Ugo immediately began scanning for girls like a Wi-Fi signal.
Then I saw her again—Amaka—sitting at the far-left column, jotting something in a hardcover notebook. She was early. Of course she was.
I elbowed Ugo. "She's here."
He looked. "That babe again? You wan enter something you can't finish?"
"I'm just observing."
He grinned. "Observing what? Her GPA or her waistline?"
"Focus."
7:55 AM — The Entrance of Doom
Suddenly, the room grew silent. People straightened up, voices dropped, and phones went face down.
That could only mean one thing.
The lecturer had arrived.
A tall man with deep tribal marks and a thick beard walked in like he had nothing but disappointment in humanity. His agbada flapped with authority.
The whisper was immediate.
"That's Dr. Bakare."
"The one that failed 78 students last year?"
"The same. He uses red pen like a sword."
He stood at the front, eyes scanning the room slowly like a predator identifying prey.
"No projector today," he announced. "I want to know who came here to learn, not to snap pictures."
I could already tell this man didn't come to play.
8:15 AM — Bloodbath Begins
Dr. Bakare didn't introduce himself. No icebreakers. No "welcome to my course." He opened his register and called out the first name.
"Adedayo Zayne."
I raised my hand.
He stared. "What's your JAMB score?"
"...264."
"What was the average cutoff for Computer Science?"
"220, sir."
"So you think 44 marks above cutoff makes you Einstein?"
Laughter exploded.
I froze. "No sir—"
"Then sit straight. I don't like students who slouch."
My ears were hot. My dignity had been injured. I looked over and saw Amaka trying not to laugh. Her smirk returned. As usual.
Next name.
9:10 AM — Academic Baptism
Dr. Bakare finally turned to the whiteboard. He wrote one terrifying word:
"ALGORITHM."
And then turned to us.
"What is an algorithm?"
Silence.
He pointed at a guy in the back. "You. With the blue shirt and confused face."
"Uh… it's like… steps. For solving things?"
"Things?!" the lecturer boomed. "What kind of things? Biscuits? Washing machine? Marriage?"
Dead silence.
He turned to me again. "You. Adedayo. Define algorithm."
I took a deep breath. "An algorithm is a finite set of well-defined instructions to solve a computational problem or perform a task."
Pause.
He nodded.
"Good. One mark. Sit up."
Victory never tasted so small.
10:03 AM — Break Time Gossip
Once the lecture ended, we spilled into the corridor like freed prisoners. Some looked traumatised. Others were ranting already.
"I swear that man hates joy."
"See how he humiliated me for using 'etcetera'."
"Did he really say a guy looks like a failed network signal?"
I was leaning against a pillar, still processing my wounds, when I heard a voice beside me.
"Not bad."
It was Amaka.
I turned, startled. "You mean me?"
"No. The wall beside you," she said sarcastically.
I smiled nervously. "I tried."
"You gave a good answer. But next time, don't hesitate. Dr. Bakare smells fear."
"I noticed."
She leaned in a little. "You're from Ondo?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Anambra. Born here though. My dad lectures in Social Sciences."
Figures. Campus royalty.
"So… you're doing the debate?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I am."
She smirked again. "Good. Keep that energy. Let's see who stammers first."
And with that, she left.
Again.
Like she had an invisible soundtrack that played every time she made a dramatic exit.
12:15 PM — Ugo's Detour
Later that afternoon, Ugo convinced me to follow him to the ICT center "just to check something quickly."
That was a lie.
He was chasing a girl he met on Instagram.
"I swear, she looks even finer in real life," he whispered.
The girl he was referring to? Diana. Dark-skinned beauty, honey-like voice, and eyelashes that probably cost more than my entire outfit.
While Ugo tried to impress her by pretending to know how to code (he didn't), I sat on a bench, scrolling through my notes.
Then I noticed a WhatsApp group I'd just been added to.
CRESTMONT CLASS OF 2025 — Computer Science
Admin: CST_Amaka
Huh. She was the group admin.
The welcome message popped up seconds later:
Amaka: "Welcome to CST 2025. Respect yourself, your books, and your common sense. I won't babysit anybody. You slack? You fail."
I showed Ugo.
He laughed. "That girl no dey play. I swear I go marry her one day."
I rolled my eyes. "Join the queue."
2:40 PM — Library Run-In
I decided to check out the school library before returning to the hostel. As I entered the reading room, trying to avoid eye contact with serious-looking seniors, I heard a familiar voice from behind a bookshelf.
"Zayne."
Amaka again.
At this point, I was convinced she had a GPS tracker on me.
"You're here too?"
"I live here," she said, scanning a shelf. "You'll understand by 300-level."
She pulled out a thick book: Data Structures and You.
"Take this," she said.
"For me?"
"For the debate. It has real-life applications of algorithms and logical flow. Most students don't read this stuff until final year."
I took the book slowly.
"Why help me?" I asked.
She smirked. "Because I like challenges. And I want to beat someone who actually tries."
With that, she walked off again.
Third dramatic exit of the day.
If this girl wasn't a goddess of war and wisdom, I didn't know who was.
End of Day 2
That night, I sat on my bunk while Ugo snored like a generator. I stared at the ceiling, mind spinning.
Debate tryouts were tomorrow.
Dr. Bakare already hated me.
And I'd now interacted with the most intimidating girl on campus three times in one day.
Something was happening.
I didn't know what.
But I knew this: I wasn't just here to pass exams anymore.
I was in the game now.
And there was no pause button.