Ewaoluwa raised her head in an attempt to look at her attacker but her cheeks, her little overbloated cheeks were met with even more slaps. She clutched her cheeks tightly and her body shuddered as hot tears floded her neck, making her skin burn.
"Raise your head and look at me, you idiot". The voice pierced through her already aching ears and made them ache even more. The voice was throaty and loud like that of a teenage boy wallowing in the delight of his new 'deep' voice and willing to show it off. Ewaoluwa could tell who it was, it was Oluwaloni
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"You are the new girl? " a brown-haired boy with pinkish lips, lips twisted in disgust, came into Ewaoluwa's view. He had eyes with larger inner black globe than she had seen in anyone,globes that shine brightly they make you want to avert your gaze. She opened her mouth to speak but could not get the words out---- her tongue felt heavy and stuck to the floor of her mouth.
"
whor do you said?"(what did you say) she finally said after what seemed like a lifetime of silence and awkward eye contact between her and the apparently disgusted boy who continuously seized her up, with his eyes speaking of disgust.
"Never mind"He mumbled, his disgust sharply melting into amusement. He walked away, one hand in his pocket and each step consciously taken. She was to learn later that that was his peculiar way of walking--- he always walked like a model parading to the view of an audience.
She fixed her stare at him as he walked away, taking in as much details of him as she could. She noticed his haircut which stood in a moderate halo, the manner with which he swung his head sideways as he walked. Then her eyes drifted to his back, the back that stood up straight in his crisply ironed uniform, uniform ironed so crisply that it's edges could give you a cut if you ran your fingers through it.
"Hello class" A high-pitched voice cut through the noise that enveloped the class and through Ewaoluwa's thoughts. She was momentarily distracted from him but she found it difficult to avert her gaze from him, although he was already seated, bringing his books out of his bag. She could not help but notice the intentional slowness, the stylishness with which he arranged his books on his table. Ewaoluwa thought he did everything with so much confidence, the confidence of someone who feels like everyone is watching and admiring him.
"Can you all turn in your assignments now? ". It was the high-pitched voice again. Ewaoluwa reluctantly dragged her gaze from Oluwaloni and turned her head to the direction of the voice. It was a slender woman dressed in a tight-fitting gown which hung a little above her knees . Ewaoluwa thought that she looked pale and was too thin and wondered if she was just recovering from an illness although she did not look sick.She had a long hair which she tied up firmly at the middle of her hair .Ewaoluwa was to learn later that she was Miss Smith, their English teacher-cum-class teacher and that she was well but had that skin colour because she was half-caste.
"Oh we have a new girl in the class"Miss Smith said rather too excitedly and gestured with her body in the mannerism of a toddler who sees it's mother's breast after a long day at the daycare. Ewaoluwa noticed that she talked very fast, so fast that she seemed not to finish saying a word before moving onto the next.
"Ayam Ajani Ewaoluwa. I come from St Peter schwl...( I am Ajani, I came from St Peter school). The roaring laughter of the class in unison, as if it had been planned, cut Ewaoluwa short. She looked on as the class continued to laugh, she bit her lower lip very hard, trying to hold back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She had heard most of her classmates talk since she arrived school that morning and she thought ,while admiring them, they sounded like the white men that used to come to her village to give the children injection; they said it was vaccination against meningitis Although she knew that her new classmates command of English was second to none and could not be compared to hers, she had least expected to be laughed at--- no one could speak better English than her, back in the village.
A sudden feeling of home-sickness descended on her and she stopped fighting the tears as she allowed them flow on their own accord. Her eyes met Miss Smith's and she saw Miss Smith's expression take a turn from confusion to pity.
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