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  Sophia Acheampong is a British-born Ghanaian. She lives and works in North London and studied at Brunei University. Her first book, Growing Yams in London, introduced the character of Makeeda. Like Makeeda, she is still learning about her culture.

  Praise for Growing Yams in London:

  ‘Sweet and funny.’

  Mizz

  ‘Acheampong accurately captures the roller-coaster of young teenage emotions … There is still an urgent need for novels reflecting different cultures within Britain and this is a welcome new voice.’ Books for Keeps

  ‘A complete delight from start to finish.’

  Chicklish

  Thanks to Brenda, Anne, Melissa, Vivien and the Piccadilly Press Team, Mrs Mary Osei, Dr & Mrs Thomas Mensah, Rt Hon Keith Vaz MP, Mrs M Vaz, Mr K Acheampong, Vowusu, Ms T. Bonsu, Mr & Mrs Addai, Mr K Adom Fordjour, Dr Asuboah, Ms Emelia Aryee, Mr Yildi Sirer, Mr & Mrs Kwarteng, Dr Rose Atfield, Dr Daniela Amasanti, Mrs P Ramage, Ms Angelina Aidoo, Mr and Mrs Appiah-Minka, Ms V Agyemang, St William of York Church, Stanmore and Harrow Libraries.

  First published in Great Britain in 2009

  by Piccadilly Press Ltd,

  5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR

  www.piccadillypress.co.uk

  Text copyright © Sophia Acheampong, 2009

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  The right of Sophia Acheampong to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978 1 84812 017 4 (paperback)

  eISBN: 978 1 84812 218 5

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Printed in the UK by Bookmarque CPI, Croydon, CR0 4TD

  Cover design by Simon Davis

  Cover artwork by Catell Ronca

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1. Rude Awakenings

  Chapter 2. A Mathematical Conundrum

  Chapter 3. Questions and Long Distance Answers

  Chapter 4. Good Kiss vs Bad Kiss

  Chapter 5. The Unexpected

  Chapter 6. About Doing the Right Thing …

  Chapter 7. Honest Secrets

  Chapter 8. Losing Enemies and Winning Hearts

  Chapter 9. Akwaaba

  Chapter 10. Drumbeats and Heartbeats

  Chapter 11. Dating, Kumasi-style

  Chapter 12. The Voiceless

  Chapter 13. Home Comforts

  Chapter 14. The Theory of the Heart-chip

  Chapter 15. The Last Dance

  For Mum, Dad and Gerald

  A guide to Ghanaian terms and phrases can be found at the back of the book.

  Chapter 1

  Rude Awakenings

  ‘Go away, Delphy!’ I said from beneath my duvet.

  My sister had this totally annoying habit of waking me early. She had no consideration for the fact that I had been up till two a.m. revising. Well, midnight – then I had to watch the final episode of Yana’s Guest, the latest Californian teen drama. Besides, waking me up on a teacher training day was just plain wrong.

  ‘I mean it, Delphy!’ I said, nearly blinded by the sunlight she had sent streaming into my room. ‘Who told you to open my curtains?’

  ‘I did!’ Mum called from downstairs. ‘And stop shouting at your sister!’

  ‘You can talk,’ I mumbled. Sometimes it was like Mum had a megaphone attached to her mouth. I peeked out at my sister. She was dressed in her jeans and a blue top she had begged me to lend her two months ago. Her hair was in shoulder-length braids.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me why I —’ she began.

  ‘Delphy, you’re my sister. You always want to torture me, simply with your presence,’ I said, smiling sweetly.

  ‘Fine! When everyone starts asking you why you didn’t get your vaccinations, don’t blame me!’ Delphy said, storming out of my room.

  ‘What? Woaaaaaaaaargh!’ I jumped up from the bed but got tangled up in my duvet. I ended up in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Makeeda?’ Mum rushed into my room. ‘Oh,’ she said, laughing, as I made two failed attempts to stand up. I saw Delphy laughing from the top of the stairs.

  ‘Yeah, thanks for helping me up, Mum,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry. So has she told you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’re going to Ghana!’ Mum said, smiling excitedly. ‘You, me and Delphy.’

  ‘Ghana?’ I yelped. ‘This summer? Wait, isn’t Dad going?’

  ‘No, with your Uncle Raj leaving, there’s no one to look after the garage,’ Mum said.

  Uncle Raj was Dad’s first apprentice – we called everyone of our parents’ age ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’ out of respect. His children had all moved to Australia, so he had decided to retire out there with them.

  ‘He booked his ticket last month so he can’t stay any longer.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Makeeda – I know Dad promised to take you around the slave forts next time we went to Ghana.’

  ‘But what about my exams? It’s my GCSEs!’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Mum replied. ‘You don’t think we’d let you miss them, do you?’

  Well, for a second, part of me actually did think they’d let me skip them. Oh OK, more like for a split second. My parents were totally into education. They both believed that as long as you can get a good schooling everything else is a bonus, and Delphy and I were expected to go into further education. I’m not sure about the subjects I’ve chosen – English is a defo, but apart from that I’m still not certain.

  Sometimes, I wished I could be as sure of my future as Bharti or Mel. Bharti knew she wanted to be a scientist and discover cures for diseases, and Mel wanted to be a top athlete and businesswoman and she was already attending a special sports academy in Manchester. I hadn’t heard from her in ages, but she’d promised to come down for our end-of-year prom in August. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet. I hoped it would suddenly hit me like a bolt of lightning but Mum said sometimes it could take over ten years! She said you could be in a job for fifteen years and suddenly realise that you were meant to be doing something else completely. That’s life, apparently. I knew that’s what had happened to her with teaching, but I’d rather not have to wait so long. And, anyway, how was I supposed to decide on a job in the first place?

  ‘Makeeda? Makeeda?’ Mum said.

  ‘Yup?’ I said, realising I’d missed most of her conversation.

  ‘You’re always daydreaming! Listen, just concentrate on your revision for now – there’ll be plenty of time for us to discuss the holiday later.’

  ‘Oh OK,’ I said. But of course I was going to think about the holiday. I was looking forward to the chill-out period between actually taking the GCSE exams and getting the results – everyone had been going on about it for ages. Even my old friend and maths tutor Nick said there was something amazing about knowing you had finished school legally and could simply work for the rest of your life if you wanted to. He hadn’t been allowed to do that either, but he liked knowing he could – at least in theory.

  My phone beeped.

  Bharti: U up yet?

  Me: Just. U won’t believe where I m gonna b 4 hol!

  Bharti: W?

  Me: Ghana!

  Less than two minutes after sending that text, my phone started ringing.

  ‘Makeeda, are you seri
ous?’ Bharti asked.

  ‘Yeah. Hold on, how come you’ve got credit?’ I replied.

  Bharti was worse than I was for running out of phone credit. We were lucky our parents topped up our phones each month. In my case, it was taken out of my pocket money. Bharti was luckier as there were no deductions from her pocket money, but having a mobile phone meant her landline use was restricted to four non-essential calls a month and five homework calls. I understood why Bharti’s parents insisted on this (there was a crazy global phone bill a few years back), but I still felt it was harsh. It wasn’t like we could say everything we needed to say in a conversation at school. I mean, why send us to school if we’re not meant to concentrate on our lessons? Parents wanted us to learn and still cram in vital conversations, too?

  ‘I ironed my brother’s work shirts for two weeks – whilst I was watching Yana!’ she said proudly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He got into an argument with Mum, so she refused to do it and I offered at a price. I earned about thirty-five quid!’ Bharti laughed.

  ‘Gee, you could give Delphy a run for her money,’ I replied.

  ‘Actually it was something Delphy said a while back, about making an offer someone couldn’t refuse, that gave me the idea. I knew the nearest place Tejas could get his shirts ironed was charging four quid a shirt and he still had to lug them there and back. So I undercut them. It also helped that I made sure every morning I was up and dressed before him, and had my own pile of neatly ironed and folded clothing right in front of his nose,’ Bharti said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, gotta look efficient, Makeeda. Besides, Tejas is a lazy sod!’

  We both laughed.

  ‘Aren’t you excited about Ghana?’ Bharti asked, after a pause.

  ‘Sort of, it will be great to see Nana and everyone but …’

  ‘But what?’ Bharti prompted. ‘As soon as we finish our exams, you get an excuse to do some serious shopping and it won’t come of out of your pocket money!’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Makeeda, there is no way any parent wants a family member commenting on a lack of wardrobe, especially when you’re coming from England!’ Bharti explained.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose …’ I said.

  ‘You still don’t sound excited, Makeeda. This is totally illogical!’

  I smiled. It was our catchphrase for whenever something didn’t make any sense. We got it from a comment Miss Oki wrote on my sociology essay.

  ‘What about Nelson? Last summer we weren’t together, because he was in South America and I went to France. Bharti, we barely saw each other and that was when we were a couple!’ I moaned.

  ‘Ohmigod, I guess that’s true.’

  ‘Exactly! We spent more time together when we split up!’

  ‘Dark days, Makeeda,’ Bharti replied gravely.

  Last year Nelson and I had split up a lot. The worst argument was when we split up for three months. What started off as a minor disagreement almost ended up becoming a feud of epic proportions. I refused to speak to him until he apologised and he refused to apologise. It was a nightmare as we’d booked tickets to see this top DJ perform in a one-off gig at the O2. Somehow Jordan, Stephen and Bharti got us back together before the gig.

  ‘I know we haven’t been getting on all that well lately, but I guess I was relying on this summer … And how am I going to explain?’

  ‘Just tell him, it’s the only way. I mean, it shouldn’t be that much of a problem, should it? How long are you going for anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know, hold on a minute,’ I said, walking into Delphy’s room. ‘Delphy, how long are we going to Ghana for?’

  ‘Not telling you,’ Delphy replied.

  ‘Wanna rethink that?’ I said, poking her.

  She just poked me back. That was the problem with my little sister – she was growing up way too quickly. Delphy was eleven and almost as strong and tall as me. She could actually wear my clothes now. It was weird and annoying for me having to hunt for my clothes in two wardrobes!

  ‘Delphy, see that pink top over there? I could’ve sworn I bought it for myself last month …’

  ‘Fine. Two to three weeks,’ Delphy said with a scowl.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, walking out. ‘Did you get that Bharti?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bharti said, laughing. ‘You’re totally illogical with that girl’.

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘I know you were talking about the pink top you don’t like!’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, smirking. ‘It didn’t even suit me.’

  ‘Anyway, two to three weeks isn’t for ever. Nelson should have no problem,’ Bharti said.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Yeah, listen gotta go. You’re burning up my credit!’

  ‘Huh! That’s rich coming from you, Miss Can Chat, Will Chat!’ I replied.

  Bharti’s laughter nearly deafened me.

  ‘Thanks a lot! I’ve already got a case of RG to deal with!’

  RG was our code for Revision Guilt. It didn’t matter how much you had done: it never felt like enough.

  ‘Bye Keeda!’

  ‘Bye B!’

  So, Bharti was convinced Nelson would be fine about my holiday, but I wasn’t so sure. I knew what he could be like when he didn’t get his own way. Moody wasn’t enough to describe it. That boy could turn cream sour with his moody ways. I’d given up a long time ago trying to snap him out of it. I texted him.

  Me: W R U? Can U talk?

  Nelson: Nah, out with my mum. Back at Dad’s by 8.

  Me: OK. I’ll call U l8r.

  Nelson: What, no x?

  Me: Soz. X

  Nelson: XXX

  It was funny that he always remembered to do stuff like that. At least I had time to think about what I was going to say, but RG was beginning to weigh on my mind, so, shutting out any thoughts of Nelson and my holiday, I opened up my revision notes.

  Chapter 2

  A Mathematical Conundrum

  I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a maths equation that Nick had given me. It was number three in a list of twenty that I had to solve. I was feeling quite proud of myself, as I had managed to write answers to all the other nineteen equations.

  Nick had been tutoring me for free for nearly two years, but Dad had finally persuaded him to accept driving and car maintenance lessons as payment – Dad’s a mechanic, so it wasn’t a stretch. Nick was an old family friend and he always used to tell people we were cousins because our maternal grandmothers came from the same village and are next-door neighbours in Ghana.

  I looked up and caught Nick watching me.

  He had green eyes, olive skin and brown shoulder-length hair in ringlets that his older brother Paul said made him look like a girl. Their features were courtesy of a Ghanaian mother and a Polish father. Nick was at least six foot tall and didn’t seem to be stopping there. He wasn’t as skinny as he was last year and he was really happy about that. Apparently he had been getting fed up with being called lanky at school. Mel always said he was a hottie, despite the fact that they bickered their way through primary and secondary school. Now and again I could see what she meant, but most of the time all I saw was an annoying tutor and a special friend.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you finished yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Nearly.’

  ‘In an exam you can’t afford to spend twenty minutes on one equation. You have to just get on with the rest of it and come back to that one after you’ve checked your answers,’ Nick said.

  ‘Actually, that’s what I’m doing,’ I replied.

  ‘Yeah, suuuuure!’ Nick smirked.

  ‘Uh-huh. I’m doing exactly what you taught me to do. So shut up and let me finish the test,’ I said and that wiped the smile off his face.

  Nick had been giving me a hard time since I’d only got forty per cent on a past paper two months earlier. He was so furious, he practically rammed my entire syllabus down my throat and upped my ses
sions with him to twice a week! If I didn’t have a tutor who was one of my oldest friends and a maths genius, I would have been less stressed. I mean, if Mum and Dad had paid a real tutor, they’d never have given me that kind of attitude!

  ‘Makeeda, I wouldn’t be acting so —’ Nick began.

  ‘Shh! I’m concentrating,’ I said.

  ‘If you think …’

  ‘Seriously, I really am concentrating and you’re distracting me and prolonging the lesson. I’m sure you have your own revision to do,’ I continued. He was in the year above and had exams coming up, too.

  ‘Well, I’ve done a lot already,’ Nick replied.

  ‘Whatever! You know you’d be cramming right now, if it wasn’t for this lesson!’

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ Nick said, blushing.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I said, returning to my work.

  ‘Yes, you are!’ he said.

  ‘No, I’m not!’

  ‘Yes, you are, Makeeda.’

  I held up my hand to silence him and began writing the answer to the equation.

  ‘There you go, all done!’ I said, handing over my answers. ‘FYI, I’m not wrong!’

  ‘Yes, you are!’ Nick replied, as he slammed his own book down on the table between us with a huge thud. It startled me. He had a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. It wasn’t real anger – it was something else. We just sat there glaring at each other. It was really odd, like there was something in the air – something instinctive but frightening. I’d never felt like that before. Then the phone rang, breaking the spell.

  ‘Delphy, get the phone!’ I yelled.

  ‘Makeeda, you’re not always right,’ Nick said calmly.

  ‘Yeah, I know that, because then I’d be this oracle that everyone worshipped and wouldn’t really be human,’ I said.

  ‘So what, you think you’re human?’ Nick laughed.

  ‘Very funny! DELPHINA, GET THE PHONE!’ I screamed.

  ‘OK, now you’ve almost made me deaf, but that still doesn’t mean you’re right,’ Nick said, rubbing his ears.