Free Everything Good Will Come by Sefi Atta

of Sheri running toward me with her face made up like a masquerader. She slammed into me and I fell out of my bed. I held my head and sobbed.
    I sat on the toilet and waited for the urge to pee. What I wished was for my parents to come home. Sheri was making me angry enough to punch walls. I came out without washing my hands. She was eating another donut.
    â€œYou’re going to be sick,” I said, grabbing my book.
    â€œWhy?” she asked.
    â€œIf you keep eating and eating like that.”
    She wiped grease from her mouth. “I don’t eat that much.”
    I used the book to cover my face. “Eating and eating,” I said to provoke her.
    â€œI don’t... ”
    She stood up and let out a cry. My book slid off my face, just as she lurched. Her vomit splattered over the table, hitting my face. I tasted it in on my tongue; it was sweet and slimy. She lunged forward and another mound of vomit plopped on the veranda floor. I managed to grab her shoulders.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “You hear me?”
    Tears ran down her face. I sat her in the chair and went to the kitchen to get a bucket and brush. The water gushed into the bucket and I wondered why I was so angry with her. Holding my breath, I delved deeper and the fist in my stomach exploded. Yes. I blamed her. If she hadn’t smoked hemp it would never have happened. If she hadn’t stayed as long as she did at the party, it would certainly not have happened. Bad girls got raped. We all knew. Loose girls, forward girls, raw, advanced girls. Laughing with boys, following them around, thinking she was one of them. Now, I could smell their semen on her, and it was making me sick. It was her fault.
    The foam poured over the edge of the bucket. I struggled with the handle. The water wet my dress as I hobbled through the living room. I remembered the moment Sheri came to my window. Why did we go? I could have said no. She wouldn’t have gone without me. One word. I should have said no. Damola and his friends, they would suffer for what they did. They would remember us, our faces. They would never forget us.
    I reached the veranda and she stood up.
    â€œI’ll do it,” I said.
    She shut her eyes. “Maybe I should go home.”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    She’d eaten the last donut.

    She didn’t come back to my house, and I didn’t visit her either because I hoped that if we pretended long enough the whole incident might vanish. As if the picnic hadn’t done enough damage that summer, as if the rains hadn’t added to our misery, there was a military coup. Our head of state was overthrown. I watched as our new ruler made his first announcement on television. “I, Brigadier... ”
    The rest of his words marched away. I was trying to imagine the vacation starting over, Sheri coming to my window. I would order her to go home.
    My father fumed throughout the announcement. “What is happening? These army boys think they can pass us from one hand to the other. How long will this regime last before there’s another?”
    â€œLet us hear what the man is saying,” my mother said.
    The brigadier was retiring government officials with immediate effect. He was setting up councils to investigate corruption in the civil service. My father talked as if he were carrying on a personal argument with him.
    â€œWhat qualification do you have to reorganize the government?”
    â€œI beg you,” my mother said. “Let us hear what he is saying.”
    I noticed how she smirked. My mother was always pleased when my father was angry.
    â€œYou fought on a battle front doesn’t make you an administrator,” he said. “What do you know about reorganizing the government?”
    â€œLet us give him a chance,” she said. “He might improve things.”
    My father turned to her. “They fight their wars and they retire to their barracks. That is what they do. The army have