Now the August exams were going to be the last mock exams right before the nationals. They would be made to imitate the finals as closely as possible. It was said that there would be very little difference between how you do in these exams, and how you would do in the national exams.
When the time came for these, I had been sleeping 3 hours every day and studying every waking minute for four months. I spent the last two week before my August exams revising one more time. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to get better grades this term than I had ever done in my life. I was going to reclaim my spot on the top. I was going to come back stronger than ever before, a champion. "Nelu Mbingu: Fear the Return!"
I walked into every single one of those exams with confidence. And when I walked out of the exam hall, I held my head even higher. I walked with just a little more spring in my step. Occasionally, I would hear my classmates chat about their answers, and I would see some of my answers didn't match theirs, but what are you talking about? I've been studying this for four months. My answer will be the right one of course. Sometimes, I would see immediately that my answer was the wrong one, but that would obviously be only a speck in the sea of correct answers I already had.
Usually, I would let my dad go fetch my report, but that August, I decided I would let them see the face of the champion one more time. And of course, I couldn't show up there looking like some average certain somebody. So I got myself a new outfit. A black long-sleeved button-up shirt, slightly sheer, because you know, gotta show that you've got the looks too, some dark blue skinny jeans, and high-heeled boots. And I had just gotten my hair done, so that would be in top shape too.
When I took that cab to head over to my school, the taxi driver must have thought I was going to a function. All the way to the school, I was debating what my average would be. Remember that guy that was first in the country when I was in Grade 8? His average was 93. Prepare to be dethroned brother!
I walked into that collection room with that flair that heels give you, that supermodel runway strut. I walked up to my register teacher, "Morning, ma'am."
"Morning...Nelu" Strange. She wasn't congratulating me. Why wasn't she excited? Why did she look down immediately after greeting me? Why did she lose the smile on her face? Why weren't any of the other teachers saying anything
I took my report from her hand. "Thank you," and I walked outside to open it.
When I opened that report card, I don't know how I managed to stay on those heels. I don't know how I didn't collapse to the ground like a blob. My stomach was upside down. My heart was still. My lungs held a moment of silence.
What was I looking at? Was there a mistake? Did she hand me the wrong envelope? No, my name was at the top. My dad's address was on the envelope. It was mine.
I stood there and stared at that report, my mouth open, my face the picture of terror, my arms held in feeble fists around my waist. Student average: 84%
A knockout punch to my jaw.
What in the world? What in the reap-what-you-sow world? What in the hard-work-leads-to-success world? What was on my report?
In my whole high school career, and even in the primary school years that I can remember, I had never gotten an average that low. What in the world?
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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...