We had to spend that weekend at a lodge just outside the city for the Prefects Training Camp. Out of all the things I could be worried about, I was mostly concerned about the two afternoon runs I would have to miss while there (I ran every single day at this point). Otherwise, on that Friday morning, I got onto that bus with a very care-free attitude. All I knew was that I was going to listen to the teachers talk about how we had to work as a team and all that jazz. We were going to play some games that I was going to have to pretend to be interested in, and in the end, we would vote for the head girl and head boy – something which I had no interest in becoming.
At the camp, I went on with my cavalier attitude. I tried to make random conversations with everybody, you know, asking everybody how they liked the food and if they also thought those games were so hilariously pointless like I did. Mostly they would just laugh and brush me off, and occasionally, I would get talking about everything and nothing with one of them. Then randomly on the Saturday night, for some reason known as, "You have no tact and zero social skills," out of the blue, I asked one of the girls, loudly enough that all the other prefect girls could hear in the 10-bed bungalow we shared, "So who are you voting for head girl?" And immediately, all the heads turned to me and the girl I was talking to.
"Oh, I don't know yet, I'm still thinking," she replied
"Yeah, me neither. There are a lot of good candidates hey," said one of the other girls.
"But Henry would make a good head boy, don't you guys think?" I asked again, getting no hint of the amount of tension I caused. Within the next minute or so, all the girls were standing in a circle debating who would make the best head boy. I was celebrating that I had, for once, started such an engaging conversation. What I didn't know is that everybody joined the conversation just because they were waiting for it turn back to the topic of head girl so they could gauge their chances of becoming the most respected girl in the school. That's why they all had the look of nervousness on their faces. One of them was actually chewing her nails as she listened intently and tried to contribute to the conversation, hoping to steer it in the other direction. But all these signs fell on the eyes of a socially blind Nelu.
It must have been before 7:00 a.m. the next day when one of the girls strangely asked if "she could talk to me." What on Mother Earth could she possibly want to talk about? School work? We don't have any important assignments coming up...
I followed her outside to the conference room, still tapping my fingers on what this very secretive discussion was going to be about.
"Nelu, so I know you've been asking around about who will become head girl. And I just want you to know, that it has been a dream of mine to become head girl ever since primary school. It would mean the world to me get..." then she started crying.
I could only stare at her with that, "What is going on right now?" look.
"Sorry, for crying. But, like I was saying, it would mean everything to me to become head girl. My whole high school career, I've been working just to get that title. That's why you see me doing so many sports and trying my very best in school. I was just hoping all that would help me become head girl. So Nelu, if you could maybe..."
"No, no! don't worry. I'll vote for you. If you want, I'll even try to convince the other girls to vote for you. I think they like you already, so some of them won't have a problem voting for you." I was kind of panicking now.
"Thank you, Nelu! It would mean so much to me."
"Don't worry about it, Chriza. I want you to become head girl too. I think you'll make a very good head girl. You're really smart and hard working."
And just like that, I signed on to someone's dream. Now I wanted her to become head girl.
I kept my promise in the few hours before voting. This time, I brought up the head girl topic not only to the girls, but to the guys too.
A couple of them thought she was too sensitive for the job. Some told me they would love the title themselves, but knew they had no chance of getting it so, "Chriza? Yeah, maybe." A handful of them didn't really care who was head boy or head girl, they just wanted to go home already, and would "vote for her maybe if her name came up."
In the next assembly meeting, when the results were announced, Chriza only managed to get enough votes for deputy head girl. I could see, even as she was up on the stage accepting her badge, she wiped away a tear. I knew she was disappointed. I knew that second-place feeling.
"Chriza, Deputy Head Girl is still a very good title... You should be proud of yourself." That's what I told her later that day, even though in my heart, I knew there was little that could ease the disappointment. I wish I had more time to campaign for her.
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Memoirs of an Outstanding* Teen
Non-FictionHighest ranking #8 in non-fiction (16 June 2017) *Outstanding because I stand outside all friendship squads. It turns out there is a lot that happens when you're not part of the group. No boyfriend or friendship drama, but a whole lot of stories tha...