“Mum, there’s a new girl in our class,” I announced over dinner.
“A new girl at the middle of the term?” Mum asked.
“Yes mum,” I replied.
“And the worst part is that she’s on scholarship,” Nicole put in.
“What’s bad about her being on scholarship?” Dad asked as he put down the newspaper he was reading while eating as was customary for him.
Nicole and I exchanged glances. We didn’t answer dad’s question. Rather, we continued eating. We’d both known that dad and mum might not favour our decision to have nothing to do with the SG.
“Nothing dad,” I finally replied.
“She must be very intelligent for her to have earned a scholarship to study in a prestigious school like Glistering High,” Mum said. “You can learn a lot from her, you know. So try to befriend her. Is that clear?” Mum counseled.
“Okay mum,” we replied. Although in my mind and I’m sure in Nicole’s mind too, we were thinking, ‘Learn from who? That trash? God forbid.’
“Ugh French class again,” I groaned as I, Nicole and Nora met after our second period. After each period is a five minutes break used for preparing for the next period.
Two lockers after ours, the SG was rummaging in her locker for her textbook.
Ugh that piece of rag.
“French isn’t hard. You just have to put in more effort,” Nora advised.
“Not hard? You must be kidding me,” I replied.
“I’m not. Just have the mindset that it is easy and it will be.”
I scoffed. “You’re talking like this because you lived in France for many years.”
French class always makes me behave higgedly-piggedly as every word sounds like gibberish in my ears. I just wish I can evade the class.
Like who the heck needs French?
Nora and Nicole are so good at it and it pisses me off that my mirror image, my twin sister is good at it while I’m not.
“I only lived there for two years,” Nora countered.
“A year, two years or even a hundred years doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re good at it and I’m not,” I retorted. I was already becoming exasperated though I knew I had no reason to be mad at her.
“Snap out of it, you two,” Nicole said. Then, I heard a chuckle and I looked in the direction it came from. It came from the direction of the SG.
Was that scumbag laughing at me? I wondered.
Who the heck does she think she is to laugh at Nicola Olivia Richards?
That girl has to be put in her place, I thought.
Perhaps it was the fact that I hated the girl or because I wasn’t good at French and needed someone other than my bestie to vent my anger on, I turned towards the SG and threw her a hateful look.
“And who are you laughing at?” I asked.
I turned towards Nicola as I heard her question. I was packing my books for French class when I heard Nicola complaining about French class to her sister and friend.
Who the hell hates French? That wonderful, interesting and easy language. She’s gotta be kidding me. It wasn’t like I was eavesdropping on their convo, they just happened to be talking really loudly and was I to block my ears? Definitely not.
“…two years or even a hundred years,” got me and I didn’t know when a chuckle escaped from my lips.
Now here was a seeting Nicola asking me why I was laughing. Being the gentle girl I was, I decided to ignore her.
“I’m asking you a question scholarship girl. Who are you laughing at?” Nicola repeated angrily.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. Why won’t she just leave me alone?
My gentle side told me to answer her with a simple ‘no-one’ while my not so gentle side told me to ask her “Can’t I laugh whenever I want to and at whoever I want to?”
On contemplating which answer to give her, I decided that I shouldn’t create enemies on my second day. So the answer should be a simple ‘No-one ‘.
“No-one,” I replied with a slight smile.
“Better,” she replied. And turned back to her sister and friend.
Phew that was intense, I thought.
“No one,” she answered
“Better,” I replied her. I hadn’t expected her to back down like that. I’d thought she’d put up a fight by asking me something like ‘Don’t I have the right to laugh at anyone I want to?’ but she hadn’t.
What a weakling, I thought as I rolled my eyes.
I was already planning how I would finish her with insults to my satisfaction. But she’d spoiled my plans by answering with a simple ‘no one.’
Then, the bell went for the next period.
“Let’s go to class,” Nicole urged us. We grabbed our books, locked our lockers and marched to class.
I had this feeling that I wasn’t just marching to class, I was marching to my doom. I dropped my French textbook and notebook on my desk and sat down. I flipped through it and all I could read was gibberish.
I glanced to my left and saw the stupid SG seriously studying her textbook. I was still wishing I was opportune to insult her earlier. Well there’s always a next time.
Michelle and Amy were two seats to my left and they were gisting about whatever, perhaps their boyfriends, as they were talking excitedly.
In eight grade room A, there are twenty students. There are five rows and four columns. I was seating on the second row but third column.
To my left, much to my chagrin is the SG while to my right is Nora. And to Nora’s right is Nicole. In front of me is Alexandra Scott whose father is a senator. Alex is very beautiful with curly black hair and a model-like body. No doubt about her being a future model.
Behind me is Veronica George, the class clown.
“La classe salutez,” Nora, the class representative ordered as our French language teacher stepped in.
Ugh another day of boring, headache-giving French, I groaned.