Most people are lucky enough to live simple, uneventful lives from the beginning to the end of secondary school. Unfortunately, that wasn't me. I couldn't remember any class apart from junior secondary one, that I didn't fall into some sort of scandal. Whether by my own unintentional making or by chance, I would always somehow be involved. So suffice it to say that being a wallflower was something I was most definitely not. Much to my despair.
It was in my last year of secondary school. And like most teenagers, I was in a relationship. His name was Peter. He was dark and had nice, smiling eyes. He was of average height - at least at the time. And one of the most intelligent guys in our set. I was the top art student and he was the top science student, so it looked like a match made in heaven. It was almost time for our final examinations, so we usually read together. It was during this time that the scandal happened.
One very important characteristic of secondary schools is Cliques. And as we all know, the most lethal of cliques are the girl cliques. So it happens that I was having a conversation with one of my mates. His name was Wilson. We grew up together hence I practically considered him a brother. And when the topic of this particular clique came up, he said it sounded like some kind of cult. He ranted on about how girls in the clique discouraged their members from entering into relationships, and how they recited some things at night and all of that.
I would never forget that I said I wasn't in the clique so I knew nothing about it. I admitted to having seen them recite some things but they were always with a Bible which most likely meant they were just reading the Bible. He later left but little did I know that I had unwittingly opened a can of worms.
Fast forward to a few days later, my name had spread like wildfire, and not for anything good. The girls at the dormitory shunned me and called me all manner of names. A meeting among girls was called, and I was asked to confess to the fact that I was a hideous liar, slandering the name of girls in front of guys. Wilson had told them that I called them cultists, harlots and what have you. All manner of allegations that I knew nothing of were levelled against me. I was utterly alone.
I had friends, but the thing about being the friend that defends her friends is that you would most likely not have anyone defend you when it was your turn. I'd never felt so isolated. The girls had decided that if I did not confess to my 'crimes,’ I was going to be brought in front of the whole set and interrogated then shamed.
Ice coursed through my veins. It was one thing to be in a scandal involving higher authority, it was another when you were being scandalized by your mates. And for something you didn't even do!! I dreaded the next day. I tried defending myself and no one believed me. They said they knew that I didn't lie, but in the face of Wilson, the obvious liar was me.
The day came, and I looked around for a friend. I saw none. Then Peter came, and he held me and comforted me and tears fell from my face in streams. I had never felt so vulnerable. I begged him to believe that I'd done nothing wrong. He said he knew that already. He asked me to be strong cause we were going to face them together. I was so scared but he held my hand reassuringly throughout the interrogation. He seriously cautioned anyone that talked rudely to me and asked questions to bring out the true person at fault. My racy heart slowed and I was happy I had one person who could defend me till the end.
Well, that was secondary school, and looking back now, I would do better defending myself. But I will never forget how Peter stood up for me. He showed what it meant to be a true friend. We're not together anymore, but he will always remain an invaluable friend to me.
Thanks for reading.❤️