Class (1)

Laura walked into the room, aware but indifferent about the glances following her every move. She hated the school, hated the environment, and hated the people. If they were expecting her to talk to them, then they had forever to wait.

She blamed her father for bringing her back to school here in Nigeria, and of all places, this school. Left with her, Nigeria wouldn’t have felt her presence for years and years to come, if ever. This was her second week in this school, and she was yet to make a friend in her department, not to talk of making one on the faculty, but that didn’t bother her. She was just here for the mean time. Her father will change his mind. She will make him change his mind.
Where was the lecturer? She wondered. She hadn’t plan on spending time with the poverty stricken idiots who didn’t know what life was about. She had hoped the lecturer would be in class, and she will just stay through the lecture and leave immediately it was over. She thought of all the things she could be doing, but her father had told her she must get a GPA of at least 3.5, and she knew he was serious. She didn’t want to get into more trouble with her him. Her going back to Nigeria depended mostly on her good behavior.
It was all Amanda’s fault… her mind started, ‘No, I won’t go back there.’ She told herself, mumbling. It was all in the past.
Getting impatient and a tad self-conscious, she brought out her nail-file and, after blocking her ears with blaring earpiece, focused on filing her nails. The idiots can stare for as long as they liked.

Christiana watched the new girl file her nails, and act confident. She smiled reflectively. The girl reminded her of her old self. In fact she had done the exact same thing, closing up her ears with loud music, and filing her nails. She wondered how long she will put up with the façade of being made of steel. She was still trying to make up her mind to go and meet her when the lecturer came in, making her forget all about her. By the time she looked up from gathering up her things after the lecture, the new girl was gone.
“She obviously is not interested in socializing” she muttered.
‘Christy, what’s making you talk to yourself?’ her friend and roommate, Hannah, commented jokingly
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. But what are we going to cook today? I’m looking at yam and egg sauce. What do you think?’
As they walked to their hostel, Christiana allowed herself to be distracted. She hoped she will get another opportunity to talk to the new girl. She knew she needed her help.

Laura scrolled down her newsfeed on Facebook, and knew her whole plan had fallen apart. Her father has been detained by the EFCC, and until their investigations were over, and he was proven innocent, all his funds were frozen. She knew her father was innocent of whatever charge they had against him, but she also knew that her hopes of going back to the States very soon to continue with her life was dashed. Her father would be extra careful in his spending. She called her mother and hearing her sound like she could burst into tears at any moment, knew that her worst fears had been confirmed.
She was stuck in Nigeria.
All she could see was the rest of her university years in Nigeria, and the dry place called Nsukka. She was doomed. She was going to lose her classy friends.
All this was Amanda’s fault.
Amanda was her cousin, who also lived in the United States of America. Amanda had come around for a break in Nigeria, and had decided to spend a few days with her. Days which had caused her present predicament. In one of their chatty nights, while they sat out in the balcony, Amanda had asked her where she would like to go to for her University education.
‘Where else?’ she replied. ‘US of A!’
‘But have you considered that possibility of you schooling here, in Nigeria I mean.’ Amanda pressed, disturbing Laura’s peace of mind.
‘No. No. No! I can’t imagine myself schooling anywhere else. Especially not in Nigeria. A girl needs her freedom you know, and I don’t need all these poor hungry boys of Nigeria in my business. Also, Jason told me he was going to the University of Boston. I think I might also go there, accidentally of course, if you know what I mean.’ She ended with a wink.
Amanda only laughed, and changed the subject to something else, to Laura’s relief. But by then, the damage was done. Later that night, her father had called her into his bedroom. That was when she knew she was in deep trouble.
‘I didn’t send you to America for you to follow Jason, or any other man for that matter. I sent you there because I thought it will help you develop better. But you have seen the privilege as a right, calling your fellow Nigerians, which happen to be your mates, all manner of insulting names. I have decided to give you your right. You will school here, and nowhere else. You are not to worry about how to go about it, you only make sure you don’t fail any exams, and your GPA should not be less than 3.5, or your allowances will be cut…’
It was all Amanda’s fault.

Laura felt like crying. She watched as the lecturer droned on in calculus, and she couldn’t understand anything. She looked around and saw some people who were also lost, and she saw others who looked like they were born as geniuses. She couldn’t wait for the class to be over. The day had been a bad one. Since she had seen the news of her father’s arrest, she had been in a bad mood, and she felt her mood getting worse.
Immediately the lecturer left the class, she rushed out after him. She needed a good place to cry.

Christiana saw the new girl rush out, and leaving her things with Hannah, ran after her she saw her ahead off. By the time she met up with her, she felt her heart break. What could be making her cry?
‘Err… hi there. Sorry if I am being rude, but I saw you run off and I felt an urge to follow. Why are you crying?’ Christiana said all this with her American accent. She had learnt how to only use it when necessary, and she knew that the new girl will relate better to her if she felt they were of the same class. She was tired of thinking of her as the new girl. She was not even the newest person in their department.
‘Please what’s your name? I am Christy.’ Referring to herself as Christy sounded strange to her, but it was part of the ploy to help the girl feel comfortable.
The girl finally looked up with puffy eyes and ruined makeup. ‘My name is Laura.’ She replied with a shaky voice.
‘Okay Laura, I am sorry about your pain, but you can’t leave here like this. You have to redo your makeup. I can help with that, why you tell me what is so bad that you had to cry in a public place such as this. How does that sound?’
The new… Laura nodded.
As Christiana listened to Laura’s tales of woe, she felt a mixture of emotions, ranging from annoyance to pity, and from love to empathy.
‘So what do you want to do now?’ she asked in her Nigerian accent, ignoring the questioning look from Laura. ‘You have two choices, you can either accept the situation, and make the best of it, or you can keep whining, and drowning in self-pity.
‘Ho… How did you do that?!’ Laura asked, exclaiming.
‘Do what? Change my accent? I had to. I was like you too, thinking class meant looking down on anyone I believed was below me, or didn’t look like me, or was less privileged than I was. I use privilege because I met my father with the money he spent on me. I didn’t work for it. Any other child could have been born with the silver spoon I got.’

‘I don’t understand. You mean you are rich? And you mingle with these people as if you were of the same class. I don’t think I can do that!’ Laura said, looking at Christiana with suspicion.
‘I understand where you are coming from, but my mother taught me something else. She said that the only thing making me feel more important than them was the money, and then she ceased all my allowance. She made sure…’
‘Christiana, I have been looking for you all around. It’s almost time for the next…’ Hannah couldn’t hide her surprise when she saw who Christiana was talking to.
Christiana looked from Laura to Hannah, and back to Laura.
She knew she had to do something to reduce the tension.

... To be completed.

Photos from Zimbio and Picture Quotes, respectively.