After struggling to slot a crumpled five cedi note into the vending machine, a red can of Coca-cola thunked out of the display case and into the pick-up box.
Taking the cold drink, I lifted one side of the tab up, pushed down and brought the can to my lips, pouring half of the carbonated liquid into my mouth.
Muffled cheers filtered in from the swim court. The competition was still in full swing. Ethan was currently in the middle of his fourth race, but I didn't feel like rooting for him; not after what Seth had told me about him.
I settled down on one of the empty benches available in the hallway, twirling the rest of the drink in the can. A part of me didn't want to believe any of the things Seth had spewed out, but there was also the other part that suspected that they were true.
I could vividly remember that night Ishmael came to the party with those pictures. I insisted on reporting the issue to the administration but Nana Kwame was quick enough to shut the idea down. He was so determined to get rid of the pictures even though he had absolutely nothing to do with him.
My eyebrows dipped into a curious frown. Why would he go the extra mile to cover up something that he wasn't involved in?
Probably to conceal Ethan's tracks, my subconscious added and I couldn't help but see some element of truth in those words.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts and I shot a brief look behind to see three burly guys from the football team, hounding the vending machine. Thanks to the huge plant sitting on my left, I was pretty sure that I was well hidden enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Yo, did you hear?" One of them voiced out in full bass. "That blasted swim team captain just won his fourth race today."
"Eh, not surprised," Another replied with a shrug, before bending down to get his drink. "Dude is probably on something."
"You sure bro?" The last guy quizzed. "Cuz I heard they had a drug test earlier. You know that big guy Seth, they found smack (heroin) in his system and had him disqualified."
"Well it's different for Ethan," the one who picked up the drink remarked. "That dude lives in piles of money. Even if they find something in his system, all he'll do is to tip them off for a new set of results."
"Yeah," the guy with the bass voice agreed. "Because of his dad's position, Ethan has got a lot of tricks up his sleeve and he's not afraid to use them. That's why the swim team gets majority of the school's funding every fucking semester, it's all favouritism."
"True talk." The other guy nodded. "Compared to the football team, that fucking mermaid team hasn't done much for Penfield. But thanks to Ethan, they're living like kings and queens. There's a lot going on in that team, and it's only a matter of time before it all comes tumbling out."
Sensing their movement in my direction, I silently stood up and dashed into the nearest corridor, heading straight for the lounge area.
Questions run amok in my head, so much so that I didn't feel Nana Kwame's presence until he tapped me hard on the shoulder. "Hey, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. I wanted you to help me lead the victory chant on the deck after Ethan won the 400 freestyle."
"Oh umm, sorry." I shrugged. "I just stepped out for a quick drink. I've been feeling a bit queasy."
"Well you better get rid of that feeling, cuz you're up after the current race." He pointed at the 43-inch flat screen tv displaying the event. "It's the girls 200 breaststroke. Princess is in it and Ethan's been cheering her on like crazy."
My eyebrows dipped low. "But he just finished a 400-meter race, in addition to three other races. He should be exhausted by now."
"Yeah, not our buddy," Nana Kwame chuckled. "He has the stamina of a boar to keep going for hours."
Like pulling the trigger of a gun, the conversation I'd overhead earlier shot itself in my head.
'Dude is probably on something...'
'Even if they find something in his system, all he'll do is to tip them off for a new set of results...'
'Ethan has got a lot of tricks up his sleeve and he's not afraid to use them...'
The longer those words echoed in my ears, the larger my well of doubt and curiosity grew. My mind was struggling to find answers that would refute all those stories. But nothing...nothing popped up.
So is it true? Is my childhood friend a drug user and a cheater?
"Yo, you ok?" Nana Kwame placed a comforting hand on my shoulder the moment I sat down. "You don't look too well. Are you still feeling queasy? If you are, I ca-"
"Is Ethan on drugs?"
The question was so abrupt that it caught him off guard. "Wh-what?"
"Is Ethan on drugs?" I asked again, keeping a keen eye on his body language.
Nana Kwame blinked furiously, then quickly snatched his hand from my shoulder like I had burnt him with my question. "Are you fucking crazy? Why would you think Ethan is on drugs?"
"I don't know... it’s just," I heaved out a breath. "On my way here, I heard a couple of guys from the football team talking about Ethan's race and they were all pretty confident that he was on drugs."
"So what? You believe them? That's just plain stupid, Akwasi!" He retorted. "The guys from the football team are the last people you should listen to! They've always been jealous of the swim team because we're Penfield's pride. We put this university out in the open with our victories. Do you have any idea how many games the football team has lost over the past three years?"
Silence fell over heads as Nana Kwame pulled in a deep breath and let it out. "You know what, forget it. This topic isn't worth arguing over." Casting me a disappointing glance, he added, "To ease your troubled mind, I can assure you that Ethan is most definitely not on drugs. But it's shame that his childhood friend thinks he is." With that, Nana Kwame walked away, leaving those heavy words in the air.
A sigh left my mouth. Ever since I came to Penfield, I'd heard a lot about Ethan, most of which I'd turned a blind eye to, but this, I couldn't shake off. Ethan was one of the best swimmers I knew. To hear people, say that he was drugs only made me curious and uncertain. Was it also wrong for me to feel this way about my friend's capabilities?
The sharp sound of a whistle cut through my thoughts, signaling the end of the current race. Shoving all my uncertainties behind, I stood up, ready to prep myself for my heat.