Ruthanne Georgeson High

💎 •Reunions, Encounters, and Speeches• 02

| Dedicated to Gigibold |

•••

          Glitters and gleam sparked off shiny pieces of gold and silver accessories—extravagant and exquisite. They crashed with the air of opulence radiating off the students and filtered into the stirring atmosphere.

Students all preened and controlled, carried shadows of aloofness, and dazzle, and power; alongside other impalpable qualities. Dressing cheaply or expensively is most time in contrast to one's personality, but, not for the Ruthanners. Their dressing reflected just their innate traits and manners.

Demi's eyes swelled in enthrallment at the class and ritziness oozing from every part of the hall. Her fascination soon melted and trickled down to her heart where it solidified into a desire. A desire to be eminent; and to be in such wealth, and luxury.

The chatters in the hall died down, and still, whispers rose instantaneously, in harmony. The heads flipping towards the entrance had Demi spinning around, in curiosity, to see what had caused the change in their demeanor.

A lady appeared around the corner and strode into the hall, accompanied by associates on either side. She was dressed in a white suit and a black shirt, her brown hair dyed blonde at the tip in a stylishly messy updo. Her steps were a confident glide, and her aura emitted grace. The further she walked in, the heavier her presence weighed.

The hall was hushed.

The group stopped in their tracks, and an associate said something into the woman's ear. She nodded, gave him an order and continued on her way to the platform with the others.

The colleague who'd spoken to the woman turned away from the group and began making his way to where Demi stood. Eyes rotated in her direction.

Her mind kicked up a series of questions in perplexity, thoughts flying randomly at the man approaching her.

He finally got to her front, stopped and addressed: "Are you Ms. Ademisola Ilori?"

"Yes ... " The word half-made it out of her lungs, and she completed it with a nod of her head.

"Please, follow me." He smiled, gesturing with a hand clutching a file, and started to lead her away.

Where to...? she wanted to ask, but her tongue stayed stuck to the base of her mouth, and her feet were padding on its own already.

They were in front of the platform and mounted the steps leading up to the top of it.  It was wide, made of some glossy surface, and overlooking the whole hall—stretching from one end to the other. There were also designated seating arrangements, as Demi could see, at specific positions on the platform. The arrangements varied, the seats fewer or more and made of different designs signifying ranks obviously.

A podium stood in the midst of all the setup. Snow-white lights shone from overhead fluorescent bulbs and a huge screen stood at the back of the stage - displaying pictures of Ruthanne Georgeson.

The man who'd brought her, and had been talking with another lady, turned to her and introduced her before leaving them alone. The lady, flashing pearly white teeth, ushered her forward to a row of seats close by. "Our Sophia's Scholars stays here." Her professional tone was nothing at all like her lax manner.

Demi slid towards the seats and slipped into one, placed in front of a decorated short table. Just short enough for the other two seats placed next to the other and occupied by students. They seemed fidgety and out of place, like herself.

The lady gave a short dip of her head— still wearing her warm smile that had Demi wondering if all the staff were on some smile pills—and left.

Demi swiftly went back to her "eyesploring" of the hall. A red carpet was spread at the base of the first step leading up to the platform, covering up the length of the space before the steps. Another carpet, of the same color, was spread down the middle of the hall and forming a 'T' shape with the first one: from the base of the platform's steps, passing through the wide gap between the leather chairs, and stopping at the foot of the large entrance door. Pristine air conditioners stood at different angles, proudly blowing out a chilly air. It felt needle-like on Demi's glistening skin and golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting around glows of splendor.

Four students ambled down the wide space between the arranged chairs towards the front. A girl and three boys—one of whom is white, is in the lead and seemed to be distinct.

It clicked in Demi's mind now - taking in the skin color - and she realized that there was a mix of races among the students. She'd come across some of them, many non-Africans, and it appeared to her as they were even more than the Africans. Or probably not. They might be of an African descent and another race. And still, some weren't white or black. She couldn't tell but only confused.

Rich people ...

Ironic as it may seem, they might, after all, be mostly Nigerians looking foreign. With the privileges at their disposal—vacationing overseas, intermarrying within the high class and surgery services—they can afford to look however they want.

Motionlessly, she continued to take in the interactions of the students with wide eyes, traced down even to their simplest gestures and mannerisms. She was blown away. Her roving gaze came to settle on the white boy as he was turning his head around for a sweep of the hall. Their eyes brushed for a little more than a moment before he looked away, and ended the conversation he was having with another boy. He walked off.

The lights in the hall dimmed and the air shifted yet again to encompassed another sensation.

Ren made his way to a seating area on the platform provided for him and some important prefects of the students' body. Scanning the auditorium through the whole walk, and taking in its enormity and sheer magnificence in awe, he couldn't help feeling so of himself too.

He was the Head Boy, and he was, with the school's authority responsible for the nurturing of this assembly's success. It was the fifteenth major one and an unprecedented one at that. Lights flashed in the distance, the cameras of numerous TV stations covering the whole event.

He took a seat when he got to his table, getting pulled by his thoughts to a farther part of his mind, and oblivious to others around him. He only wished for the one person whom he wished was watching, was watching from wherever in the world.

He wished he could see the beauty of the auditorium, the swarm of students like honeybees, and the heights of glory he's ascending and will make Ruthanne ascent to. He wondered what he would say if he saw this.

A passing of white quivered his vision and his mind hiked back to reality. His grandmother was advancing toward the podium. He watched her with a teeny piece of like a frozen admiration - her confident short steps, commanding presence, designer white suit, and her chic style and hair. She stepped up behind the podium and a spotlight fell on her in the shadowed and silent hall.

Ren's thoughts, either vanished or reined in and with everything in him concentrated on listening to Mariah's speech.

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**Too short? I guess. next chapter coming in a few hours, and an A/N for the reason for my "disappearance" off the face of wattpadland. :(    :)**