HADIZA
As the bell rang, signaling the start of another period, I settled into my seat, eager for Government class. Unlike Chemistry and Physics, which made my head spin, Government was a breeze. I loved how straightforward it was. I flipped open my textbook to the page we'd be covering today, the Nigerian Constitution. Miss Yinka glided into the classroom, her white button-down shirt crisp, her knee-length pencil skirt accentuating her confident stride. Her straightened artificial hair cascaded down her shoulders, secured by a sleek headband.
"Okay, class," she began, her voice commanding attention. "Today, we'll explore the principles of the Nigerian Constitution."
But my focus began to wane. My mind drifted to the upcoming basketball game, and the clubs clamoring for me to join their teams. I couldn't wait to tell my parents about the offers; they had to give their permission before I could make any decisions.
Miss Yinka's voice drifted back into focus. "...and the Constitution's preamble sets out the country's objectives..."
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my leg. "Ouch!" I yelped, jerking forward. I turned to face the culprit - Rahul, the annoying but handsome Indian boy in our class, with his array of piercings and charming smirk. He leaned against his desk, eyes sparkling with mischief, his coffee brown hair messy and enticing. For a moment, I forgot the pain, lost in the familiarity of his features - a younger, more rugged version of Hrithik Roshan, my childhood crush from MBC Bollywood's Jodha Akbar.
"Excuse me, Hadiza! Do you know you just disrupted the entire class?" Miss Yinka's stern voice echoed through the room, her eyes blazing with annoyance. She hated distractions during Government class, and I knew I was in trouble.
"I'm sorry, Miss Yinka, but Rahul poked me with something!" I protested, rubbing my sore leg. "I think it's his compass from his math set." I glared at Rahul, who was feigning innocence.
A tiny bloodstain on my white socks caught my attention, and I felt a surge of indignation. "See, Miss Yinka, look at the stain!" I held out my sock as evidence.
Rahul jumped to his defense, his voice dripping with deceit. "She's lying, ma! I didn't do anything, I swear!" His innocent act infuriated me.
Miss Yinka's scrutiny intensified, her eyes darting between us. "You two want to disrupt my class, right?" Her tone implied we were conspiring against her.
"Okay, here's the deal," she continued, her voice firm but calculated. "Answer my question correctly, and you can sit. But if you don't... well, let's just say you'll be standing for the rest of the class." Her gaze lingered on Rahul, and I sensed a hint of bias.But why was I surprised? Everyone knew Rahul's father, Mr. Rajesh Kaur, was a major benefactor of the school. His donations to the basketball and football teams had earned him untold influence. I, on the other hand, was just a lucky scholarship student, a mere nobody in the school's social hierarchy.
Miss Yinka's gaze locked onto mine, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "What is the highest Law in Nigeria, Hadiza?" she asked, her voice firm but curious.
I froze, my mind a blank slate. "Uh, the judiciary?" I ventured, my voice laced with uncertainty.
Miss Yinka's expression turned stern. "Wrong." She pivoted to Rahul, who wore a smug grin like a badge of honor.
"The Constitution," he replied, his tone dripping with confidence.
"Correct!" Miss Yinka beamed, while I felt a sting of embarrassment. "Sorry, Hadiza, you'll have to keep standing."
As Miss Yinka turned her back, Rahul stuck out his tongue at me, his eyes glinting with mischief. I seethed, my anger boiling over.
"Fuck you!" I hissed, my index finger shooting up in defiance. I'd picked up the phrase from American movies I'd watched with Souraiya - they made cursing seem so casual.
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BELONGING - BOOK 1
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