***
Acknowledging my presence, my classmates quieted as though a ghost had just walked in. Had a pin dropped, it would not go unnoticed. They no doubt stared at my maladroit gait and how my arms didn't swing human enough when I walked. Shaking off the thought, I advanced to the seat I shared with Amarachi at the far end. Sat quietly on the right side of the seat, Amarachi flipped through the pages of the textbook before her.
"Speak of the devil," someone half-whispered.
For fools like Adamu, silence remained the best answer. Responding to his taunts would only encourage him, and I didn't want that. Even worse, we could end up exchanging words. I would rather play the fool than stoop so low to exchange words with the king of fools.
By ignoring him, he would eventually get the message that I had more important things to do than let his juvenile delinquency bother me. I hoped sometime soon he would, because I had no idea for how long I could contain my indignation.
He chuckled, his throaty voice an insult to my ears. It didn't take long before his fellow fools joined in the chorus, banishing the pin-drop silence. Amidst the laughter and incoherent comments, a wolf-whistle pierced through.
Amarachi's eyes told me to ignore them. Once I plopped down on our seat, she slammed shut her textbook and shot me her undivided attention. "Oh my God, Victoria! You really killed it today! I had already given up on seeing you!"
"Killed what?" I asked, my brows knitting.
"The late coming thing, stupid. This is the latest you've ever been. This is just as good as staying home." Punctuating her words with a giggle, she obviously hoped I would laugh along and forget our classmates' insensitivity.
There goes nothing. The realization that she had failed at making me laugh stole away the gleam in her eyes.
"I spent all morning in the sickbay," I said.
"Shit," she muttered. Searching my face, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't even notice. You really don't look well. There's this look in your eyes. And stupid me, I mistook it for that look you get when you don't have enough sleep."
"Actually, that look is in there too," I said. "It's a mix of both."
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Do you feel better now?"
I nodded, letting a stiff smile stretch my lips. "I'm good as new. There's nothing to worry about."
Once the words left my lips, my nose tickled and I sneezed, killing the little conviction Amarachi might have had. Just great.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.
"Yup," I said. I would hate it if I killed her mood for good. Who said I had to afflict people with melancholy everywhere I went?
"You did not go for lunch?" I asked.
"What's the point? I'm not even hungry."
"Look how puffed up with pride she is," I said. "You won't admit that you didn't go to the canteen because I wasn't around and you would feel awkward going there without me."
Clicking her tongue, Amarachi glanced at her wristwatch. "There's not much time left now. Break is almost over. Commerce test is almost upon us now."
I grimaced. "Sorry about that."
"Now tell me. Why so late today? I need to hear all of it. Did that witch of a stepmother make you fight a bull or something?"
"Amarachi!" I warned, pressing a finger to my lips to shush her.
"What? She's a witch and you know it. I'm sure she does that mirror mirror on the wall thingy and the mirror for sure mentions you as the fairest of them all. That's why she always gets up on the wrong side of bed and tries to make your life miserable. That evil wolf in woman's clothing."
"Stop, please. She's still family. It's not right to talk about her like this."
Disbelieving, she shook her head. "Doesn't she remind you of those really evil fairy tale witches?"
Of course she did. But it didn't feel right speaking about my stepmother in that manner. And besides, walls had ears.
"She's the evilest of them all, that woman," Amarachi said. "She and that daughter of hers."
Without thinking it, I conjured an image of my stepmother in my mind's eye and placed it beside a mental image of the Evil Queen. Similar cat eyeliners stretched along their eyelids, delivering the perfect dramatic look.
Taking my hand in hers, Amarachi said, "You, my Cinderella, are going to make it in life, trust me. You will find your fairy godmother, and then your glass slipper will lead you to your Prince Charming who will take you to his castle, and wedding bells will ring."
I felt heat rush to my cheeks at the mention of my Prince Charming. "Oh stop it."
In a way, Amarachi's words made sense. My life fit the bill as a modern day Cinderella. I had lost my parents, and had a stepmother and a step-sister who saw me as nothing but a maid, making me scrub floors day and night, just like Cinderella. In my case, though, we had no Lucifee. Thank God for that.
About my fairy godmother, I thought back to Stella, her warmth and her sweet smile. Had I found myself a fairy godmother?
I thought back to her reaction to my story and her determination to help me. We had agreed to meet after school. Questions crowded my mind. But try as I might, I could never decipher the plan she had so tactfully constructed. I just had to wait and let time unravel it.
My classmates had delved back to their various pointless conversations. A few boys argued about a football match they had watched the previous night, and how Christiano Ronaldo missed a penalty. Some girls discussed fashion and other irrelevant things like entertainment and crushes. Although I didn't plan to listen, my ears picked up some lines from their conversations.
Pleased that they had more important-although totally worthless-things to do than mock me, a lazy smile crept to my face.
"You're not going to believe this!" Amarachi squealed, cutting off my line of thoughts. Her eyes twinkled like stars in the midnight sky.
"Tell me already," I said.
An ear-to-ear grin stretched her lips. "Well, uhm...I came to school this morning to find this really cute guy in class."
Taking a breather, she bit her lips to keep from squealing. "When I say cute I mean super cute! He's really cute, like the cutest I've seen off TV. He's like a hot celebrity step out of TV or a fashion magazine."
"That's it?" My interest had given way to indifference, killing Amarachi's excitement. But it only took a moment and the gleam in her eyes returned.
"He's white!" Slamming her palms into each other, she squeezed them and let a beam spread over her face.
White? Mr. White and I were classmates? My heart sank. I did not want to be in the same class with that boy. Something about him gave me the creeps. Did he stare at everyone else the way he stared at me?
It stunned me how my best friend drooled over a guy she barely even knew. I couldn't picture myself doing that. Totally gross. I could imagine how that pompous white guy felt at the moment, having every girl in school on full crush mode.
With folded hands, I shook my head. "Pathetic. He's not the first foreigner here, is he?"
Amarachi pouted. "Look at you acting all indifferent. Every girl in school is talking about just how cute he is."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't include me."
"Trust me, you're only like this because you haven't seen him. I mean, wow. Victoria, that guy is a stunner! Have you ever seen such brilliant green eyes?"
It stunned me how she believed I would hurriedly activate crush mode once I saw him. I had already crossed paths with him, and although for a moment I stared, it triggered nothing in me.
"There's nothing extraordinary about that guy," I said.
She giggled at my indifference. "Just wait till you see him. He'll knock the air out of your lungs. Oh, I haven't even told you. Guess where he sat when he walked in? Right here, on our seat. To be precise, he sat on your side of the seat. I told him the seat was already taken. He just turned and gave me this weird look as though I'd spoken to him in Swahili. Even though the look he shot me totally weirded me out, it was really amazing staring into those emerald
green eyes. You know, Eddie Redmayne kind of eyes." Her eyes burned with desire.
"Goodness, Amarachi!" I chided, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I can't believe you're like this over some guy. It's not like he's the only white guy in this school. We already have a number of them in class."
"Four in class," she counted. "Now five."
I continued as though she'd never interrupted, "And we have them littered all over our school."
"Twenty five," she counted again. "You call that littering?"
Once again, I ignored her counting. "What's so special about some lanky, green eyed white guy?"
Her eyes widened. "What? You saw him?"
"Mh-hmm." When would this end? I did not want to be a part of this conversation.
"Oh my God!" Grinning from ear-to-ear, she rubbed her palms together like a fat cop would at the sight of free burger. To paint the complete picture, lips licking would be in order. "Tell me everything! Look at you, letting me do the whole talking while you have some story to tell. Out with it. Did he speak to you?"
"If he spoke to me, would it help with the problems I face at home?"
"Yes." She stuck out her tongue. "I haven't heard his voice but I can only imagine how beautiful it sounds. I mean, with a face like that. Good heavens."
"His voice is nothing special."
"Oh my God!" she said. Necks turned in our direction and while this made me slightly uneasy, Amarachi didn't seem to care. "He spoke to you? I need to hear it. Tell it and tell it all!"
"It's just the pretty face. His personality is crap. We met on the stairs and he said I was a sleepwalking zombie. Can you beat how lame he is?" A transitory silence fell upon us. Amarachi gazed at me, wordlessly demanding the untold story.
"There's nothing to tell," I said.
"I can't believe he's an ass," she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Yeah, they come in different sizes and colors."
"No. I mean I can't believe he's an ass like for real. Maybe he has some twisted sense of humor and you understood it all wrong?"
"Yeah right," I said, rolling my eyes. I didn't care about his sense of humor. He had hurt me with his unseasoned words, and that said a lot.
The rest of our classmates hustled into the classroom, feet shuffling as they headed for their seats. Waking over to our seat, a girl waved at me.
"Vicky, so you're in school," she said.
"Hello yourself, Confidence." I slid Amarachi's textbook to my side of the desk and buried my face in it, warding off more comments from Confidence. I knew though that it would be impossible to read. Wherever she went, quiet left.
Casting me into her abyss of non-existence, she rested her full attention on Amarachi. "That new guy probably doesn't like this school."
"That's the new guy's loss." Amarachi feigned nonchalance. Or had she suddenly lost interest for real?
"Didn't you see the look on his face," an Ethiopian girl named Rose cut in. "The way he grimaced like he'd been placed in a sewer."
"He only sat down for five minutes," Confidence said. "And then he just got up, grabbed his bag and was gone."
Rose chuckled. "You're saying five minutes? Two minutes at most."
"The look on Sir Thomas' face though," Confidence said. These girls shamed me. So much fuss over some white guy, as though he had fallen from the sky. Pathetic.
"Maybe this was the wrong class and he figured out only after Sir Thomas had already begun his boring lesson on simultaneous equation," Amarachi said. "Who knows, maybe he's a junior."
"Today's math lesson alone was strong enough to make him say 'oh no no no, wrong class.'" Confidence ended her statement with an overdone American accent.
I tried to focus on the book before me, but every line I read disappeared into an unknown chamber in my head. I needed a little bit of silence but the girls' stupid talk about some white guy didn't give me a chance. They needed to take their hopeless desperation to another corner. My stomach churned with every word they spat out. I didn't know for how long I would be able to contain the rage burning so intensely within me. I glared at the book, unleashing my aggression upon it.
"Are you girls seriously stressing over that guy?" a boy asked. I made no attempt to bring his name to mind. "I saw him drive out of school."
"He drives to school?" a girl asked. I found myself awaiting an answer. No student drove to school. Over here, 18 stood as the legal driving age, and I doubted Mr. White had crossed over to adulthood. It wouldn't surprise me if an exception had been made for him though. This country, after all, is characterized by bribery and corruption. The authorities would sure give special treatment to the angel who had fallen from the sky.
"He drives a Range Rover Evoque Convertible SUV," Cynthia chimed in. I hadn't noticed her come in. Sat on a desk in front, she faced the class. Her school uniform, well-pressed by 'yours faithfully', clung to her like a second skin. As typical of her, the first three buttons were left undone, flaunting the fullness of her cleavage. My gaze darted to her crossed legs. She sure enjoyed how her skirt showed radiant, fair skin. It bothered me how teachers didn't speak to her concerning her dressing. In the past, they had, but now they just paid no attention to her as though they had been spelled.
"Guys, please!" Amarachi snapped, startling me. "No offense, but can you guys take your conversation someplace else, or better still, just drop this whole drama? It's getting really sickening. I'm trying to study for Commerce test. I mean what's the big deal if he's white? Does he have white blood? Abeg I hate nonsense."
Cynthia glowered at her. "Are you speaking to me in that tone?"
"Last time I checked you weren't my mum," Amarachi said. "So I can speak to you however I please. Okay? And anyway, I wasn't even talking to you, so drop it."
Springing to her feet, Cynthia stomped in our direction. She had fire in her eyes. From experience, I knew things would turn ugly. Amarachi rose to her feet, her ferocity matching Cynthia's. I rose as well, ready to sandwich myself between them if the need arose. I looked to where Confidence had been, but she had fled to a safe corner. Coward with a confident letter C.
"Tell me to my face what you just said," Cynthia demanded, stepping in toward Amarachi. How did we get into this mess?
Amarachi held no trace of fear, and it bothered me, because she would not back down. Cynthia wouldn't either. Shoulders squared, Amarachi held Cynthia with her flaming gaze. A deafening silence had fallen over the classroom. Everyone watched, eager to see things get ugly.
Amarachi opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off before she even began. "Let it go, please."
Amarachi turned to me, and I seemed to be the object of her aggression. But it only took a moment and my pleading eyes softened her gaze.
"I am not you," she said, regarding me with a sorry look in her eyes. "I will not let her intimidate me. She pays school fees. I do too."
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" our classmates chanted, rocking their fists in the air and drumming their desks.
"Look here, girl" Cynthia said, jabbing her pointer toward Amarachi. "I don't know what you think you are, but those wings you think you've grown, just watch out, because if you ever get on my nerves again, I'll cut them." She moved her pointer and middle finger like a pair of scissors. I could almost see the rush of adrenaline filling her with ruthless intensity.
Our classmates kept chanting. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"I'd love to see you try," Amarachi said, her eyes trained on Cynthia in the most ominous way. Malice crackled in the air around them.
Nancy and Precious had taken their position beside Cynthia, ready to fight. Cynthia's crew no doubt viewed themselves as invincible and too hot to handle, demanding respect everywhere around school. Or at least they hoped they did. They had even gotten a name for their crew - the triple goddess.
"Hey!" Nancy warned. She opened her mouth to say more, but Cynthia held up her hand to silence her.
"I can handle her just fine on my own," Cynthia said, he
r voice spiced with venom, her eyes threatening harm.
"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Amarachi stood at akimbo. "You're all bark and no bite."
"Stop!" I begged, pressing my palms to my ears. "Please stop!"
Everyone occupied their seats, filling the room with hushed voices. Only one thing could evoke such reaction from my classmates - a teacher's presence. I looked toward the doorway and found Sir Aaron walking in, his textbook and a bottle of water in his hands. Simultaneously, Amarachi and I sat down.
Giving us the middle finger, Cynthia returned to her seat, Nancy and Precious with her. Sometimes I wondered if those girls got paid for being her bodyguards. Like maidens serving a princess, they went everywhere with her and did all her bidding.
The class prefect hammered his desk with his fist - an order that we all stood up to greet Sir Aaron. "Good morning, sir!" we chorused.
Sir Aaron gestured for us to sit. Shuffling of feet extinguished the silence as we returned to our seats. But in the blink of an eye, it passed away, restoring silence to its place. Placing his textbook and water on Cynthia's desk, Sir Aaron walked to the board and wrote a four-letter word that turned my stomach to ice: TEST.
"Tear out a sheet of paper and write your name," Sir Aaron said, turning to face us. "Remove from your desks your books and any incriminating material. If pen and paper aren't the only things on your desk, you're wrong."
He swept his eyes around the classroom to make sure we all complied. Returning to the board, he dropped the bomb:
Write short notes on the three speculators in the Nigerian Stock Exchange Market and explain how they expect to profit from their activities.
Indistinct chatters sailed around the classroom as everyone tried to voice out their hopelessness. Once Sir Aaron whirled around to face us, the voices faded.
"You have twenty minutes or less," he said. "Time starts now. If you talk to your neighbor, you're wrong. If you turn your neck, you're wrong."
I copied the questions into my paper and stared at the board, blank faced. Answers eluded me. I glanced around to find everyone in a similar state.
"You've got to be kidding," Cynthia said. Frantically, she raised her hand. "Sir!"
"Yes?" Sir Aaron said.
"I believe there has been a mistake. Is this question ours like for real? I mean, when did you teach us these things?"
"Did I not conclude our previous class by asking you all to go home and read about the Nigerian Stock Exchange market?" Sir Aaron asked. "Here you all are, staring at me like a bunch of idiots. Oh, and just for the record, this test is no joke. It makes up ten percent of your continuous assessment, so you best give it your all."
"All or nothing," Amarachi said. We exchanged hopeless gazes.
Shaking my head, I whispered, "We are so dead."
"Victoria!" Sir Aaron called.
My heart thumped wildly in response. Heads turned in my direction. I could see the mockery in their eyes. Sir Aaron had apparently caught me speaking. That spelt the end of my test. What difference would it make anyway? Even if I had a whole day, my paper would still be blank.
Sir Aaron picked up his table water and took a sip. "How's your health now?"
What? He had only called to ask about my health? Unbelievable. Rubbing my forehead for no reason, I stared at him, totally forgetting the question before me. Amarachi kicked my feet, jolting me back into reality.
"I'm fine, sir," I said. My face paled as I looked down at my paper. Failure stared back at me.
Seconds stretched into minutes. Twenty minutes passed with a hissing sound. Sadness clouded my features as I submitted my paper. I sat there on my seat, present but absent. My mind wandered off into the unknown. A feeling of nothingness had taken dwelling in my heart.
Sir Aaron provided the answers to the question on the board. "The three spectators in the Nigerian Stock Exchange Market are the bull, the bear and the stag ..."
I watched him speak, but the noise in my head tuned out the rest of his words. My head swelled with too many thoughts, tossing me into the deep dark sea of gloom. I had never been this helpless concerning my academics. I felt crippled. This didn't look good.