Writers 
Chapter One: The Problem With Being Broke
The first sign that something was wrong was the silence.
In Amara's house, silence was practically illegal.
Someone was always shouting.
A pot was always banging against something.
Her little cousin was always crying because someone had touched his biscuit.
And Auntie Ngozi had perfected the art of complaining from sunrise to bedtime.
But that morning, nobody said a word.
Amara stood in the doorway of the sitting room, still wearing her school uniform, and stared at the three people sitting around the table.
Her aunt was holding a brown envelope.
Chidi was staring at the floor.
Zara was chewing gum.
Kelechi was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, looking like he had been dragged into a meeting he had absolutely no intention of attending.
Amara frowned.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered.
She looked at Zara.
Zara slowly stopped chewing.
"Don't look at me."
"Then who should I look at?"
"Your destiny."
"Zara."
"Okay, okay."
Auntie Ngozi finally raised her head.
"We have a problem."
Amara's stomach tightened.
"What kind of problem?"
"The landlord."
Chidi groaned.
"Again?"
Auntie Ngozi slapped the envelope on the table.
"He came yesterday."
Amara picked it up.
She read the first line.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Her eyes widened.
"Three months?"
Nobody answered.
"Three months of rent?"
Auntie Ngozi nodded.
"But you told me he gave us until next month."
"I thought I could sort it out."
"And now?"
Her aunt looked away.
"Now I cannot."
The room went quiet again.
Amara slowly placed the letter back on the table.
"So we're getting kicked out?"
"Not immediately."
"That's not what I asked."
Auntie Ngozi sighed.
"If we don't pay within three weeks, yes."
Zara sat up.
"Three weeks?"
Chidi rubbed his forehead.
"We're finished."
"We are not finished," Amara snapped.
Chidi looked at her.
"Do you have money?"
"No."
"Then we're finished."
"Chidi!"
"I'm just being realistic."
Kelechi finally spoke.
"How much?"
Everyone turned toward him.
Auntie Ngozi hesitated.
"One hundred and eighty thousand."
Zara nearly swallowed her gum.
"One hundred and eighty what?"
"Thousand."
"Jesus."
"Don't involve Jesus," Chidi muttered. "He has enough problems."
Zara stared at him.
"You're actually stupid."
"I know."
Amara looked around the room.
Five teenagers.
One house.
One hundred and eighty thousand naira.
And three weeks.
It sounded impossible.
Then Kelechi pushed himself away from the wall.
"We'll get it."
Amara laughed bitterly.
"With what?"
He looked at her.
"We'll figure it out."
"You always say that."
"And you always complain."
"Because your plans are usually terrible."
A tiny smile appeared on his face.
"You remember my plans?"
"I remember the ones that almost got us suspended."
"Those were successful."
"We nearly got expelled."
"But we didn't."
Amara rolled her eyes.
For some reason, Kelechi's smile made her forget about the letter for half a second.
Only half.
Then Auntie Ngozi cleared her throat.
"I don't want any of you getting into trouble."
Five heads turned toward her.
She pointed directly at Chidi.
"Especially you."
Chidi placed a hand on his chest.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"I have changed."
Zara snorted.
"You tried to sell fake concert tickets last month."
"They weren't fake. The concert was cancelled."
"After you sold the tickets."
"Small detail."
Auntie Ngozi shook her head.
"School comes first. I don't want stealing, fighting, gambling, or anything illegal. If you want to help, find something honest."
Everyone became quiet.
Then Kelechi looked at Amara.
"Challenge accepted."
Amara sighed.
"This is going to be a disaster."
Kelechi grinned.
"You say that like it's new."
She hated that he was right.
And she hated even more that somewhere beneath the fear, she was beginning to feel excited.
Because for the first time, all five of them had the same goal.
Save their home.
Three weeks.
₦180,000.
And absolutely no idea how they were going to do it.