Infatuation

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She knew it was going to happen, she knew that Jude never dated outside of his own race. So why was she so excited when they first spoke? Why was she so disappointed when he cheated on her for an Asian girl?

She was simply delaying the inevitable, avoiding the hurtful truth

It was common practice for Nayla to talk to herself when she was stressed or worried. It was one of her many coping mechanisms, a way to deal with her inner demons. A way to seem normal.

Being the only person of colour in her elite private grammar school came with many downfalls. Every little thing she did was often criticised and assessed thoroughly. Every time her body moved all eyes were turned in her direction. Every. Single. Time.

Whispers.

All she could hear was the whispers of her peers. Being the only person of colour in a town which only accepts people of Caucasian and East Asian Heritage often earned her dozens of puzzled looks. A lot of people usually rolled their eyes at her, so she was used to this by now. On rare occasions she would catch some males and females staring at her as if she was an exotic piece of art. Something she failed to understand. She was nothing special.

"Miss Nayla Junes" her head snapped forward, she had finally been awakened from her trance.

"I understand that your having a difficult time dealing with Jude cheating on you, but could you please keep your thoughts to yourself"

She hadn't realised that she was thinking aloud, mumbling a bit.

Frustration, rage and embarrassment coursed through her veins. Ever since she arrived at this school people keep trying to involve themselves in her life. She got into this school fair and square, she sat the entrance exam and passed so exceedingly that they offered her a scholarship so why do they treat her like illegally hacked her way into this school?

Her anger practically radiated off of her in waves and she could have sworn there was a steam exiting her ears. She looked around the classroom aggressively, daring someone to say something.

He was smiling, or maybe he was frowning. It was hard to tell from the angle he was positioned in.

She practically jumped out of her seat, throwing her belongings in her bag and glaring at the table. She turned around calmly and began to speak:

"I would like to think that it is really inappropriate to involve yourself in the business of your pupils. What did or did not happen between myself and Jude is none of your concern"

She visibly shivered, her face screwing up in disgust as she walked towards the door.

She turned around once more, staring directly at the devil himself. He looked sad, he was no longer smiling. His usual relaxed demeanor was slowly falling apart. Before she could properly comprehend the situation he started conveying a message that he knew only she would understand.

"I miss you" he signed

She stopped instantaneously , rooted to the spot, tears were threatening to spill over. The two of them met in a sign language workshop, from then on they communicated through signing whenever they couldn't use their words

It's their special thing. It was their special thing

"No, you don't" her hands moved hastily, wanting to get away - she was trying so desperately to keep the tears at bay.

She walked out, what these people didn't know is that she would not return. But she had concluded that it was none of their business. They don't deserve to know, they never cared before. Why on earth would they care now?

Despite her unbothered exterior on the inside she was screaming, crying and shaking relentlessly. Somewhere in her heart she wanted to run back to him, to forgive him. She wanted him to hold and love her, as he had done before.

She knew she had to be strong, she knew her mother would hate to see her like this, she would hate for her to beat herself up over a boy.

Her mum was a strong person, she always had been. Even sickness couldn't bring down her strong forté.

As she strolled down the corridor, drying tears as she went, she took the moment to reminisce in the past few years of her life. Her thoughts diverted to the moments she spent with her dad before he left. She thought about how she would come home early everyday to look after her mum, the day when she got a call from the hospital telling her that her mum had stage 3 cancer.

She remembered her mum crying, apologising for not telling her earlier; for not getting checked earlier on when Nayla asked her to because she was complaining of various things, symptoms of cancer (the internet was a wonderfully dangerous thing). She didn't even realise when the tears fell as her mum told her that it was getting worse, it's not gonna stop; there was nothing they could do.

She bumped into a locker, a pained laugh escaping her lips.

Her life was hard, yes. But she was grateful to God for providing for and looking over her.

Her tears stopped, a smile spread across her face. God has taken her to a better place, she's no longer in pain.

She'd always been a grateful child, being Jamaican and Nigerian she didn't have a choice but to be grateful and respectful. She was proud of her heritage.

She grabbed the essentials from her locker leaving behind some binders and school books. She stuffed her art supplies and various novels into her bag, wrapped her scarf around her neck and stepped outside. She breathed in the fresh autumn air. Her mind completely rid of negative thoughts as she walked towards her cheap hotel.

Soon after her mum's death various uncles and aunts came along to 'claim their sister's belongings' none of them bothering to offer her accommodation. Instead her home was taken away from her by an angry landlord and she was left with a sports bag of her things and £765 to survive on until her dad came to collect her.

Despite her dad's departure she was grateful. As always