1 - High School Graduation
To say I'm sad about leaving the school-one that I've studied in for over 12 years now-would be a big fat lie.
I certainly can't wait to ditch this party and get packing for college-not that I'll be leaving immediately. But it still wouldn't hurt to be a week prepared.
Okay, maybe I'm a little, overly excited about the small gathering my mom has prepared for me back home.
I walk into the hall-for the umpteenth time after visiting the girls bathroom.
My stomach twists in a knot as I clench my sweaty palms in a first by my side. Blowing out my cheeks, I look around the busy hall. Noticing a few of the graduating students at one table, I make my way there.
Most of these faces i won't be seeing ever again. Maybe I want to make the most of it. Maybe I don't.
Though we had all applied for the same scholarship organized by our school to study abroad. It was no news that not everyone would be picked.
Not to brag but, my scholarship is already secured. Being the most intelligent in the school has its advantage after all-besides being left out of everything in class and being called a bookworm.
I curl my toe in six inch heels and still stretch them. Wincing at the numbing pain, I can't wait to get them off!
Shit! My feet hurt so bad in them. I could've sworn it was perfectly my size when I tried it at the shop just last week.
I had been so excited to wear them; hence, I looked forward to this day all week. Sometimes, I would even take them out of their box and put it on. Just to admire them on my feet.
A black platform stiletto 6 inch heels to go with my suit; an oversized creamy piece. I'm wearing a white silky singlet inside and it's on display as I refuse to button up the suit jacket. One that I rolled up the sleeves all the way to my elbows.
Coupled with my short bob black lace front wig-that my dear meddling mother forced on me, I must admit, I look smart.
I hasten my steps-before these shoes ruin me for others-and slide into an empty chair besides a few fellow graduating students.
Tuning out their chatter, I reach down and to relieve my feet of their torture.
"Well if it isn't the best graduating student," a female's shrill voice invaded my sense of hearing. "I am honoured to be by your side."
I ignore her. I don't even need to turn to see who it is. Somehow, that voice will always hold recognition in my head. Sadly.
"Hmm," she began and I roll my eyes but continue to gently massage my feet. "Should you bend that way?" she asked, feigning worry. "It's like you're going to break any minute now."
A gulp. The humour and mock laced in her tone makes me grit my teeth. But I'm not in the mood to get mad or affected by her words.
Today is one of celebration and I should be happy. I should.
With a sigh, I push my small feet back into hell and sit up. I turn my attention to her, making sure to keep my lips in a thin line. When I hold her gaze, I can visibly read mischief in those black round eyes.
One of her perfectly drawn eyebrows lifts and her lips curl in a smirk. The look on her face is one of; I said what I said. Gbas gbos.
Lord knows i hate cocky, arrogant bastards!
But this school is full of 'em. One of the disadvantages of attending a school for the rich. They are all cocky sons and daughters of...their parents.
"Tiara." I say with a small nod of my head in silent greeting.
Her expression doesn't change and neither will her stinky attitude. Is it just me or do fair girls tend to be so rude and arrogant?
Tiara Jones is not just fair. But white! She's mixed. Her dad is a white American and her mom, a fair skinned Yoruba lady.
Both her parents are rich with their own line of business. A divorce, with her mom gaining custody had Tiara staying in Nigeria and ever since she got here-three years ago, the girl won't let me be.
Well that's not the full story but...who cares anyways?
Her eyes roam my body and I'm thankful for my oversized outfit.
No counting my ribs now, biatch! I almost smirk at my thoughts but pull myself together.
"I see you cover up nicely." she remarks and smiles. One that didn't in anyway reach her eyes.
"I could say the same thing about you." But I can't. I can't agree with my thoughts more.
She's shaking off a lot of skin. I'm talking "Notice my big boobs" kinda skin and the "Big thighs geng" kinda skin.
The kinda skin that makes me look twice before a feeling of disdain and bitterness comes over me.
I turn away from her and try to focus on other things. Anything to boost my mood and lift it from the ditch it's falling into.
"Hey, I've been thinking," she says and I turn my attention to her. She has a manicured nail placed under her chin as her head is tipped up in thoughts.
"Are you sure you won't withdraw your admission?" Tiara asks in a causal tone and still has the guts to shrug.
What sort of question is this? I furrow my brows.
"Why would I want to do that?" I ask. "It's a scholarship." I point out with a duh tone whilst giving her my most ridiculous look.
Tiara just places a hand over her mouth and giggle, causing her natural curly hair to fall forward. That gives her a reason to tuck it bend her ears seductively.
"Sure, it's a scholarship. But haven't you noticed that universities are for big boys and thick girl?" she purse her lips with her eyes going wide as she says this like it's so darn important!
"And?" I half shrug and fold my arms over my flat chest. Suddenly feeling self-conscious.
I glance at the others at the table and I inaudibly heave a sigh. They are minding their own business.
I turn back to the devil to find her eyes on my chest. I want to shield myself from her sight but I don't. I can't let her know I'm affected by this.
Finally, she holds my gaze and my heart skips a beat at the mockery smile she's throwing my way "Well, you know. I'm just looking out for you."
She smiles. Plopping her elbows on the table, she place one palm under her chin to support her chubby face as she continues to stare in my direction.
Well what do you know? My mood and day is officially ruined.
I kick my feet out of my shoes and glower at her. "You are a piece of trash!" reaching down, I take my shoes in one hand. I storm away from the table, barefooted but not before I hear her laughter erupt.
No matter how hard I try, mere words would always be my downfall.
I chew on my bottom lip as tears wells up in my eyes.
Someone grabs my arm, and I flinch out of their strong hold. I spin on my barefeet and come face to face with my usual chemistry partner.
He withdraws. Remorse in his black eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." he stammered. His Arabian accent coming off rather strong.
Unlike most people, I like to listen to him talk. We are more like...acquaintances and we are both ready to put the other through when it comes to studying.
While I made it my mission not to have a thing for anyone in this school romantically, i also couldn't help but notice Malik's glow.
He is good-looking. Sometimes I wish I could just run my fingers through his Arabian undercut hairstyle. It looks so soft and appealing. He has black protruding eyes and an admirable height of almost 6'1.
Due to his height, it's no surprise I'm literally looking up as if praying to the heavens. It's either his height or I'm just too short.
"No,it's fine." i say with a dismal wave of my hand. "Is there anything you need?"
Yup, there it is again. My straightforwardness. No time for chit-chat. Just tell me what you want, you don't have to spend a minute longer with me.
While my classmates see this as being 'rude', I see it more like 'helping you get rid of me'. Really? Why would you want to talk to me?
His thin outer lips twitch, "Nothing in particular. I'm just worried about you. Tiara can be..."he hesitates and his eyes wander.
This is one reason why liking someone isn't easy. It affects your judgement and one can turn sentimental.
It no news that Malik likes Tiara but she has a boyfriend in some other country. I know this because she won't shut up about how much he likes her thick body...
"It's fine." I shifted from one foot to another. "Congratulations on your graduation, Malik." The only time we ever talk is about books. I have nothing to say to him besides that.
"Woah woah. Slow down. You can as well be cool around me. This is not the first time we've spoken. So please, drop it." he rolls his eyes.
"O-kay." I stress the word.
"Ignore Tiara."he sighs. "She can be immature at times."
My brows raise at those words but immediately knit in a frown. "When is she ever mature?"
I watch as his eyes widen in fear and I wait for him to speak. But all he does is open and close his mouth. Probably thinking of what to come up with to save his 'girlfriend'.
"I know her better than anyone, Sophia. Trust me."
Trust you? I fold my arms. "Really?"
"Yeah." he nods, staring deep into my eyes wanting me to believe him.
He knows that I know that he likes her. And I've told him many times that it'll never work. Sure, blame my down-to-earth attitude but what's the use of giving yourself false hope and getting disappointed in the end?
"No." I say with fire. "She doesn't even speak to you and when she does, it's like she can't wait to get out of there."
Hurt flash in his pitch black eyes but as usual, a smile spreads his lips adding cuteness to his soft facial features. "Sophia-"
"Have you ever heard of de Clérambault's syndrome?" I arc a brow and I meet his clueless gaze.
I could've as well said "erotomania" but there's this weird pleasure I get when I confuse people with knowledge and then jump in at the end of the day with the simple answer.
He shakes his head and somehow that infuriates me.
He came over first with the act of "worrying about me" but in the end, he ends up defending the bully.
They always do. They find an excuse for their ways.
Call things at they are! You body shame a fellow human being, you. Are. A. Bully!
Leaning closer towards him, I still have to look up to hold his gaze. Resentment grew inside me like a tumor and maybe I'm pouring all that on him but he damn sure asked for it!
After a moment of thick clothed silence for him, I whisper "It's a condition-"
"Oh you found Miss. Chopsticks over here,"
"Am I Interrupting something-"
I walk away. Ignore her choice of words about my body and just walk away. I bite down on my quivering lips and walk out with my head bowed.
A day where all your troubles end and you start to breath in fresh air without choking on judgements.
But we all know the end of high school is the beginning of something maybe even higher than us.
Maybe we'll break along the way, maybe we won't. And as I walk out the hall, I make a promise to myself.
"...But haven't you noticed that universities are for big boys and thick girls?"
Her words play back in my head.
It hurts how most people don't know the weight their words carry.
She called me "Chopsticks." Even as I've been called worse, each name still opens a wound. One that leaves singing my national anthem.
"I hate my body. I hate my flat stomach. I hate the fact that I'm so skinny and I hate that I was born this way."
I dash into the girls bathroom and lock myself in. My lips quiver and I behold myself in the mirror, staring at those eyes that held unshed fresh tears.
My thin body under all these oversized clothes trembles as I try to hold back my tears.
Tears escaped my eyes followed by my first hitting the mirror.
But what do you know? It didn't budge. Didn't even crack. I'm not thick enough.