The atmosphere at our table was different.
Our table was in the center of the refectory. It was wooden and shiny, with ten seats. Being seated in the center of the room, it was easy to notice staring eyes. They shone with admiration and a strong desire to be like us, to sit with us. On the days I noticed those eyes, my heart sang.
If other tables were scolded for making noise, ours was not. We could arrive for food late, stay even after the bell had been rung and nobody would complain. We could talk, laugh, pass food around, and nothing would happen. We could cut lines, move about during mealtime, and there would be no consequences.
Now? It was torture sitting there.
The weekend was particularly bad because of the empty seats: Maro's, Kari's, Muna's and Nina's. Not only had Nina left the room, she had also left the table. She now sat with Maro at his. I began to wonder if him leaving had less to do with Tiara and more with something else.
Then Tiara.
She now chose the days she sat with us. And with the way Ibidun glared at her whenever she pulled Maro's chair out, I could tell serious tongue-lashing was coming. It was disrespectful that Joju still allowed her to sit with us, but what did I know? We were all his friends, after all.
☆
Monday moved like it was carried by a sloth.
When break rolled around, I swapped my current read of a textbook for one of Aunty Oma's self-help books. My eyes kept involuntarily darting to Nina. When it happened the fourth time, I got up and walked out.
I liked the noise in Leilah's class. I liked being drowned in the waters of my own thoughts and having voices in the background being so close yet so distant. It forced me to focus on my thoughts, and at that moment, they were about Nina. She had always been in my space...in class, in the room, at the table and more recently, in my head. But now, I saw her only in class and she avoided me like a plague. It was amazing, really, how-
"Yewande, is it?"
"Hm?" I blinked.
I knew the face. Very popular, very notorious.
He had the book in his hands, and his eyes were going over the sticky notes on a page. Aunty Oma's annotations.
"Your name is Yewande, yes? JJ's..." He trailed off.
I sat up. "JJ's what?"
He shrugged, dropping the book on my laps. "We're not sure."
"We?"
"Yes, we. No one really knows."
"Knows what?" I stared back confusedly.
"What you are, what you're doing. It stresses us out."
"Who is us?!" I yelled.
He smirked, delighted by my frustration. "Us is everyone in SS3. Us is the girls that like JJ and the guys that like you. Us is me."
I leaned forward and cupped my cheeks. They puffed. I bit them from inside. "How poetic."
He cocked his head and smiled. I saw the indent in his cheek. "It's a good book though. You should finish it."
I looked at the book which was placed face down on my laps. "You don't seem like the type to read these kind of books."
"You don't seem like the type to not know you're being taken for a ride." His brows furrowed, then he leaned forward. "On a second thought, you actually do."
I narrowed my eyes. "Remind me how close we are for us to be having this type of conversation please."
He raised his hands up in surrender. "Just saying."

YOU ARE READING
A Loner's Journey Through Lemonade Making
Teen Fiction*Formerly 'Yewande: Book 1 in the self series'* Upon hearing the famous quote: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonde", Yewande, an oddball, a lonely kite surveying the infinite sky at the mercy of the wind, makes an attempt at living by it. She...