A chance for love episode 3
đA Chance For Loveđ
Episode Three
đFailure
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âWho?â Her wide, eager eyes made me flinch.
By telling her the story of my life, would I not be making a mistake?
âHolding back now, are you? Hey, I told you my story, did I not? Itâs not a story I share with random people. But I told you because you seemed genuinely interested in why I chose to be a nurse instead of being like you said, an English teacher.â
âYou did it for your sister.â Now I saw why she cared so much about my health.
Simpering, she nodded. âShe wanted to be a nurse. And besides, I donât want what happened twenty-one years ago to happen ever again in this school. This is a great school, and the people who work here need to have the right motive. I donât see anyone else more qualified to be the school nurse.â
With a rather forced giggle, she went on, âAnd about the English thing you mentioned, I have always had an interest in English and Literature. I have even published two books. The first is a collection of poems. Most nights, when I canât sleep, I get up and light a candle. And yes, I light a candle for real, even if there is NEPA light. Writing by candlelight has become my own personal ritual. For this reason I named it âBy Candlelightâ. Whatever is in my head at that moment finds itself as another beautiful work of literature in my collection of poems.
âAnd the second book is a novel called A Robberâs Heart. Itâs about a thief who jumps over a fence to steal, but his landing is pathetic and he ends up with a broken leg. He is taken in by a teenage girl who hides him in her room, and a father-daughter bond blossoms between them. A bond that not even her mother can sever.â
âWow!â I said, mesmerized by her delight in Literature. I also had a thing for Literature, but had never reached the point of developing a story. Maybe sometime I could give it a try. I could write the story of my life.
âCan I see your books sometime?â I asked.
âOf course,â she said. âBut first, tell me what I need to know. Why were you crying, and who is bent on making your life miserable?â
âMiserable?â Of course I lived a miserable life and two people engineered this misery. But when had I mentioned this to Stella?
âYou mentioned that please, sorry and forgive me were the only words they made you say,â she clarified. âIn other words, some people are trying to make your life miserable. So who are they?â
More than once I opened my mouth to speak, but I could not find the words. If I replied her strategic question, I would directly be telling her my stepmother and Cynthia were making my life miserable.
I could not say that. No, not now. What if they found out somehow that I had spoken about them? I would be dead in a split-second.
âIâm sorry,â I said. âBut when you put it like that, I donât know how to answer.â
Stella rolled her eyes. âThere you go again with being sorry.â
âSorry.â The moment the word left my l-ips, I realized I had done it again. âJust pay no mind to how pathetic I am.â
âSo you were going to say something?â she asked.
âI wasnât crying because of my sickness,â I said. âWell, not directly.â
âBut it had something to do with it, yes?â
âYou asked if I didnât care at all about my health.â
âYes. And Iâll ask you again. Youâve been sick for how long, two weeks and you just do nothing about it? Who does that?â
âActually, itâs been four years.â
âYou have been sick for four years?â she half-shrieked. âBut why? I donât get it. Youâve been sick for four years and you donât do anything about it? Your mum and your sister, do they not know this?â
âTo understand the wh0le thing, you need to know the story of my life.â I knew my answers would lead me to tell the story I had tried so hĂŚrd to escape.
I led my mind away from frightening thoughts and told myself I could do this. I would tell Stella the story she craved to hear. Perhaps after I did, I would feel the weight of the world fall off my shoulders.
âI have time,â she said.
I squinted at my wristwatch. 11:18. Two minutes into the forty-minute recess. I had spent my entire morning in the sickbay and had missed all four periods.
Shoving off these thoughts like unwanted clothing, I willed my mind to focus on the story I had to tell. âI never knew my mum. She died a few hours after giving birth to me. My father hired a nursing mother to care for me. In no time, he saw the need to marry her so she would legally be my mother. And then they were wed.â
âIâve always supported your fatherâs wise decision,â Stella said. âThis way, you wonât know what it feels like not to have a mother. Itâs a horrible feeling.â
If only she knew. Soon enough, though, she would.
âFour years ago, my life took a turn I hadnât seen coming,â I said. âThe very day my father resumed duties after his recovery from an accident, the bank was robbed. And he was shot to death.â
I could remember vividly. Cynthia and I had only just returned from school to find two policemen at our door, delivering the cold news of fatherâs death. I could still remember my stepmother holding Cynthia and I comfortingly in her arms while we all wept.
âIt only took a few days for the people I held dear to show their true colors. Everything changed dramatically. When someone shows you their true colors, donât try to repaint them, or youâll be stabbing yourself all over with many pains. Back then, I was naĂŻve, too innocent and inexperienced to know that. I thought there was a mistake, and that my family needed time to grieve, after which the gap between us would bridge. But I was wrong. Dead wrong.â
âI donât understand,â Stella said.
âMy stepmother and her daughter make the wh0le world believe they love me,â I said. âBut they donât. Cynthia has always seen me as her biggest rival. I tried to make her realize the looph0les in her reasoning, but my efforts only filled her with untamed aggression. But still, I believed her childish jealousy would fade as she grew. I believed she would grow into a reasonable person and her love for me as a sister would supersede all. But time laid my flawed reasoning before me. In horror, I watched my sisterâs jealousy grow along with her. Her love for meâor at least something close to itâcompletely faded, replaced with an intense hate I could not fathom. She regards me no more than she would a maid.
âThey have turned me into a servant in my fatherâs own house. They make me do all the work in the house all by myself. Every day I wake up by 4:30 in the morning, but they overwhelm me with chores and I always end up late for school. And they make me do all of these on an empty stomach. I could go a wh0le day without food and no one would care. They find fault in everything I do. And even when there are none, they fabricate faults and abuse me.â
At this point, relying on mere words to tell the story would be a grave mistake. I undid the buttons on my jacket and did the same to my white shirt.
âWhat are you doing?â Stella asked.
âAllowing my scars tell a part of the story,â I said. âThey will speak to you and tell you more than words ever could.â
Taking off my shirt, I let Stellaâs unbelieving eyes explore the length of my torso. My body had become an art gallery on which different work of arts were displayed. Some of which were recent, stinging me when I showered. Baring myself to her brought an uneasy s-nsation to my stomach, but I didnât dwell on this.
âOh my God!â she cried. âSuch evil! Oh heavens, no!â
I remained in position, giving her an undisturbed view of my back, letting her drink in the details of my abuse.
âI canât believe your stepmother did this to you!â The sympathy in her voice wounded me. Once again, I burst into tears.
âShe should be a mother to you! How could she do this to you? You are like a child to her! She should love you like her own!â
My grief intensified with every word she said. Snuffling, I reached for my handkerchief and brought it to my nose.
âThat woman is evil!â Stellaâs straightforward remark startled me. Evil, perhaps, but that woman remained my mother.
Speaking about our broken relationshÂĄp to another person brought a cloud of guilt resting upon me. In a way, I felt like a traitor. Negative emotions fought to overcome me. And to an extent, they won, sagging my heart into dense darkness. Werenât family issues meant to remain in the family? My stepmother had even said so herself.
âWhat happens in this house stays in this house. Do you understand?â She had pulled my ears so hĂŚrd I feared I would lose them. And I had never dreamt of disclosing her wrongdoings to anyone but Amarachi. If mother learnt about this, I would not live to see the next day.
Stella placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. âIâm sorry about the things they make you pass through. I thought these things only happened in Nollywood. Oh heavens! Whatever happened to humanity? My God!â
I picked up my uniform and clothed myself. âAfter my dadâs death, they made me stay home. They told me to forget school. They said school was not for everyone. And whenever I told them I wanted to continue my education, they would abuse me and tell me I was cursed. They told me I was an evil child, and for that reason my parents died.â
Stellaâs brows furrowed. âThey made you leave school? I thoughtâŚbutâŚI heardâŚâ She shook her head. âThis is just evil. Pure evil. During that period, news spread that you quit school because you could not face the world after your loss.â
âThey made everyone believe I quit on my own because I was too weak to get over my fatherâs death. For almost a wh0le term I stayed home, doing chores 24/7. And then one day, Cynthia returned from school, talking about an annual scholarshÂĄp exam. It would cover a studentâs school fees till graduation. To pick up the registration form and the study materials, I needed to pay an application fee. With tears in my eyes I approached my stepmother. I begged her to pick up the scholarshÂĄp form and study materials for me. I understood she didnât want to spend money on me, and with the scholarshÂĄp, it could be achieved. I believed in myself. I knew I could pass the scholarshÂĄp exams. But she laughed at me. She and her daughter.
âI snuck to school the next day to tell Sir Amadi I wanted to sit for the exam. I wanted him to help with the fee. But to my surprise, he called my stepmother and told her about my intention. Although he had good intentions, that was the worst step ever. I returned home only to receive the beating of my life. Most of the scars you saw, they came from that day.â
âSo how did you register for the exams?â Stella asked.
âI confided in Amarachi. I am forever indebted to her. If God hadnât intervened through her, I would have been a school drop-out. Do you see all the things I pass through every day? They treat me like snot. They always remind me I donât belong in their family. They tell me Iâm an outcast, and make me pass through unimaginable pain.â
âThis wonât go on like this, my dear.â Stella rose to her feet, a fierce determination written all over her face. And although I knew she had my best intentions at heart, it frightened me to watch her roam the room with that look on her face. âIt certainly wonât go on.â
âWhat can be done?â I asked.
âYou are going to have a blood test done, as soon as today,â she said. âAnd your stepmother will have to pay for the expenses. I will make sure of this.â
âThatâs not possible. Sheâd rather die than take responsibility for me.â
Stella smirked. And I knew she had a sinister plan. But what?
âThose wings you think youâve grownâŚIâll cut them.â
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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 didnât 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.
âSpeak of the devil,â someone half-whispered.
For fools like Adamu, silence remained the best answer. Responding to his taunts would only encourage him, and I didnât 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 didnât know for how long I could contain my indignation.
He chuckled, his throaty voice an insult to my ears. It didnât 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.
Amarachiâs eyes told me to ignore them. Once I plopped down on our seat, she slammed shut her textbook and shot me her undivided attention. âOh my God, Victoria! You really killed it today! I had already given up on seeing you!â
âKilled what?â I asked, my brows knitting.
âThe late coming thing, stupid. This is the latest youâve ever been. This is just as good as staying home.â Punctuating her words with a giggle, she obviously hoped I would laugh along and forget our classmatesâ insensitivity.
There goes nothing. The realization that she had failed at making me laugh stole away the gleam in her eyes.
âI spent all morning in the sickbay,â I said.
âpoo,â she muttered. Searching my face, she shook her head. âIâm sorry. I didnât even notice. You really donât look well. Thereâs this look in your eyes. And stupid me, I mistook it for that look you get when you donât have enough sleep.â
âActually, that look is in there too,â I said. âItâs a mix of both.â
âWhatâs wrong?â she asked. âDo you feel better now?â
I nodded, letting a stiff smile stretch my l-ips. âIâm good as new. Thereâs nothing to worry about.â
Once the words left my l-ips, my nose tickled and I sneezed, killing the little conviction Amarachi might have had. Just great.
âAre you sure youâre okay?â she asked.
âYup.â I would hate it if I killed her mood for good. Who said I had to afflict people with melancholy everywhere I went?
âYou did not go for lunch?â I asked.
âWhatâs the point? Iâm not even hungry.â
âLook how proud she is,â I said. âYou wonât admit that you didnât go to the canteen because I wasnât around and you would feel awkward going there without me.â
Clicking her tongue, Amarachi glanced at her wristwatch. âThereâs not much time left now. Break is almost over. Commerce test is almost upon us now.â
I grimaced. âSorry about that.â
âNow 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?â
âAmarachi!â I warned, pressing a finger to my l-ips to shush her.
âWhat? Sheâs a witch and you know it. Iâm sure she does that mirror mirror on the wall thingy and the mirror for sure mentions you as the fairest of them all. Thatâs why she always gets up on the wrong side of bed and tries to make your life miserable. That evil wolf in womanâs clothing.â
âStop, please. Sheâs still family. Itâs not right to talk about her like this.â
Disbelieving, she shook her head. âDoesnât she remind you of those really evil fairy tale witches?â
Of course she did. But it didnât feel right speaking about my stepmother in that manner. And besides, walls have ears.
âSheâs the evilest of them all, that woman,â Amarachi said. âShe and that daughter of hers.â
Without thinking it, I conjured an image of my stepmother in my mindâs 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, âYou, 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.â
I felt heat rush to my cheeks at the mention of my Prince Charming. âOh stop it.â
In a way, Amarachiâs 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.
I thought back to Stella, her warmth and her sweet smile. Had I found myself a fairy godmother?
I mused over her reaction to the story of my life 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 didnât plan to listen, my ears picked up some lines from their conversations.
Pleased that they had more importantâalthough totally worthlessâthings to do than mock me, a lazy smile crept to my face.
âYouâre not going to believe this!â Amarachi squealed, cutting off my line of thoughts. Her eyes twinkled like stars in the midnight sky.
âTell me already,â I said.
An ear-to-ear grin stretched her l-ips. âWell, uhmâŚI came to school this morning to find this really cute guy in class.â
Taking a breather, she bit her l-ips to keep from squealing. âWhen I say cute I mean super cute! Heâs really cute, like the cutest Iâve seen off TV. Heâs like a hot celebrity step out of TV or a fashion magazine.â
âThatâs it?â My interest had given way to indifference, killing Amarachiâs excitement. But it only took a moment for the gleam in her eyes to return.
âHeâs white!â 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 couldnât 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. âPathetic. Heâs not the first foreigner here, is he?â
Amarachi pouted. âLook at you acting all indifferent. Every girl in school is talking about just how cute he is.â
I rolled my eyes. âDonât include me.â
âTrust me, youâre only like this because you havenât seen him. I mean, wow. Victoria, that guy is a stunner! Have you ever seen such brilliant green eyes?â
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 Iâd stared, it had triggered nothing in me.
âThereâs nothing extraordinary about that guy,â I said.
She giggled at my indifference. âJust wait till you see him. Heâll knock the air out of your lungs. Oh, I havenât 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 Iâd 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.â Her eyes burned with desire.
âGoodness, Amarachi!â I chided, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. âI canât believe youâre like this over some guy. Itâs not like heâs the only white guy in this school. We already have a number of them in class.â
âFour in class,â she counted. âNow five.â
I continued as though sheâd never interrupted, âAnd we have them littered all over our school.â
âTwenty five,â she said. âYou call that littering?â
Once again, I ignored her counting. âWhatâs so special about some lanky, green eyed white guy?â
Her eyes wÂĄdened. âWhat? You saw him?â
âMh-hmm.â When would this end? I did not want to be a part of this conversation.
âOh my God!â 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, l-ips licking would be in order. âTell me everything! Look at you, letting me do the wh0le talking while you have some story to tell. Out with it. Did he speak to you?â
âIf he spoke to me, would it help with the problems I face at home?â
âYes.â She stuck out her tongue. âI havenât heard his voice but I can only imagine how beautiful it sounds. I mean, with a face like that. Good heavens.â
âHis voice is nothing special.â
âOh my God!â she said. Heads turned in our direction and while this made me slightly uneasy, Amarachi didnât seem to care. âHe spoke to you? I need to hear it. Tell it and tell it all!â
âItâs 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?â A transitory silence fell upon us. Amarachi gazed at me, wordlessly demanding the untold story.
âThereâs nothing to tell,â I said.
âI canât believe heâs an ass,â she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
âYeah, they come in different sizes and colors.â
âNo. I mean I canât believe heâs an ass like for real. Maybe he has some twisted sense of humor and you understood it all wrong?â
âYeah right,â I said, rolling my eyes. I didnât 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.
âVicky, so youâre in school,â she said.
âHello yourself, Confidence.â I slid Amarachiâs 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. âThat new guy probably doesnât like this school.â
âThatâs the new guyâs loss.â Amarachi feigned nonchalance. Or had she suddenly lost interest for real?
âDidnât you see the look on his face,â an Ethiopian girl named Rose cut in. âThe way he grimaced like heâd been placed in a sewer.â
âHe only sat down for five minutes,â Confidence said. âAnd then he just got up, grabbed his bag and was gone.â
Rose chuckled. âYouâre saying five minutes? Two minutes at most.â
âThe look on Sir Thomasâ face though,â Confidence said. These girls shamed me. So much fuss over some white guy, as though he had fallen from the sky. Pathetic.
âMaybe this was the wrong class and he figured out only after Sir Thomas had already begun his boring lesson on simultaneous equation,â Amarachi said. âWho knows, maybe heâs a junior.â
âTodayâs math lesson alone was strong enough to make him say âoh no no no, wrong class.ââ 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 girlsâ stupid talk about some white guy didnât give me a chance. They needed to take their hopeless desperation to another corner. My stomach churned with every word they spat out. I didnât 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.
âAre you girls seriously stressing over that guy?â a boy asked. I made no attempt to bring his name to mind. âI saw him drive out of school.â
âHe drives to school?â 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 wouldnât 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.
âHe drives a Range Rover Evoque Convertible SUV,â Cynthia chimed in. I hadnât noticed her come in. Sat on a desk in front, she faced the class. Her school uniform, well-pressed by âyours faithfullyâ, clung to her like a second skin. As typical of her, the first three buttons were left undone, flaunting the fullness of her cle@vage. My gaze darted to her crossed legs. She sure enjoyed how her skirt showed radiant, fair skin. It bothered me how teachers didnât 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.
âGuys, please!â Amarachi snapped, startling me. âNo offense, but can you guys take your conversation someplace else, or better still, just drop this wh0le drama? Itâs getting really sickening. Iâm trying to study for Commerce test. I mean whatâs the big deal if heâs white? Does he have white blood? Abeg I hate nonsense.â
Cynthia glowered at her. âAre you speaking to me in that tone?â
âLast time I checked you werenât my mum,â Amarachi said. âSo I can speak to you however I please. Okay? And anyway, I wasnât even talking to you, so drop it.â
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 Cynthiaâs. 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.
âTell me to my face what you just said,â 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 wouldnât 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. âLet it go, please.â
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.
âI am not you,â she said, regarding me with a sorry look in her eyes. âI will not let her intimidate me. She pays school fees. I do too.â
âFight! Fight! Fight!â our classmates chanted, rocking their fists in the air and drumming their desks.
âLook here, girlâ Cynthia said, jabbing her pointer toward Amarachi. âI donât know what you think you are, but those wings you think youâve grown, just watch out, because if you ever get on my nerves again, Iâll cut them.â 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. âFight! Fight! Fight!â
âIâd love to see you try,â 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. Cynthiaâs 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 â the triple goddess.
âHey!â Nancy warned. She opened her mouth to say more, but Cynthia held up her hand to silence her.
âI can handle her just fine on my own,â Cynthia said, her voice spiced with venom, her eyes threatening harm.
âFight! Fight! Fight! Fight!â
Amarachi stood at akimbo. âYouâre all bark and no bite.â
âStop!â I begged, pressing my palms to my ears. âPlease stop!â
Everyone occupied their seats, filling the room with hushed voices. Only one thing could evoke such reaction from my classmates â a teacherâs 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 â an order that we all stood up to greet Sir Aaron. âGood morning, sir!â 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 Cynthiaâs desk, Sir Aaron walked to the board and wrote a four-letter word that turned my stomach to ice: TEST.
âTear out a sheet of paper and write your name,â Sir Aaron said, turning to face us. âRemove from your desks your books and any incriminating material. If pen and paper arenât the only things on your desk, youâre wrong.â
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.
âYou have twenty minutes or less,â he said. âTime starts now. If you talk to your neighbor, youâre wrong. If you turn your neck, youâre wrong.â
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.
âYouâve got to be kidding,â Cynthia said. Frantically, she raised her hand. âSir!â
âYes?â Sir Aaron said.
âI believe there has been a mistake. Is this question ours like for real? I mean, when did you teach us these things?â
âDid I not conclude our previous class by asking you all to go home and read about the Nigerian Stock Exchange market?â Sir Aaron asked. âHere 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.â
âAll or nothing,â Amarachi said. We exchanged hopeless gazes.
Shaking my head, I whispered, âWe are so dead.â
âVictoria!â 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 wh0le day, my paper would still be blank.
Sir Aaron picked up his table water and took a sip. âHowâs your health now?â
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.
âIâm fine, sir,â 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. âThe three spectators in the Nigerian Stock Exchange Market are the bull, the bear and the stagâŚâ
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 didnât look good.
***
Twenty minutes into the next class and I still couldnât get over my failure in Commerce test. What would Sir Aaron think of me when he picked up my script and found it blank?
âTell me what I just said,â Madam Charity said, her eyes trained on me. Holy cripes! I hoped sheâd spoken to the girl in front and not me, but her eyes stayed locked on mine.
The girl in front turned to look at me. She seemed just as confused as me. My indifference toward Madam Charityâs question forced her to her feet. âYou were talking aboutââ
âNot you, Flora,â Madam Charity said. âYes, Victoria? We donât have all day.â
Words eluded me. My performance in Sir Aaronâs test had filled me with rue-cheerlessness, making it impossible to think of anything else. And here I stood, about to make another fool of myself. I would always remember this day as my worst school day.
âExcuse me, madam Charity.â Cynthiaâs voice severed the silence. I glanced at her seat and found it empty. I had been too engrossed in thoughts to notice her absence. With a smug smile, she stood in the doorway. Folding her arms, she cast me an unsettling glance. âBut the principal wants to have a word with her.â
âThat should be after this class,â Madam Charity said.
Cynthia stomped her feet. âItâs urgent!â
Sir Amadiâs voice screeched over the intercom, âVictoria Brown. Report to my office in one minute or less.â
Madam Charity gave me a subtle nod. âYou heard him.â
I had just been saved from Madam Charityâs question. But the smug smile on Cynthiaâs face as I advanced toward her made me shudder. Although I had no idea why I had been summoned, I knew one thing. Trouble had found me