The school became quieter and I felt like I was alone in the whole world. When they all dispersed, I looked out for Benita. Some would rub my head so hard, ruffling my afro, others patted my back, almost as hard as a slap, and the rest weren’t nice enough to not shove me. ![]() Raphael have been a part of this snare set up? After the bell, everyone in class came over to my desk to “congratulate” me. Edgar gave me a letter to this regard, signed from the principal’s office. She had helped me a lot during the black days. As usual, she wore that solidarity look on her face and it comforted me. I looked at the far end row on my left where Benita, my best friend, sat. There was an uproar of laughter in class. He faked pressing a buzzer in the air with his middle finger when he said "snapshot". Edgar announced to the class, “Socrates, considering your snapshot intelligence and your Casanova reputation, I have handpicked you to present the class's speech on graduation day.” Edgar was good with his sarcasms, and the class played along with him so well. It was on a Monday morning, just after History class, that Mr. Edgar, my class teacher taunted me "Socrates" my mates called me "sister." It was a frustrating period of my schooling year. ![]() I hated myself and also thought it justifiable for everyone else to hate me. You can then understand how I felt after that blunder that turned history. Preparations were always intense, passionate, and almost spiritual. It was as old as the school’s rich history old boys and girls, the press and every other person in the catchment participated in the one-week fiesta. ![]() S&P was a competition everyone in and around my school looked up to. This would be the first victory of the Skirts over the Pants in that contest in three years. It was because of my blunder that the men lost in the final round of the quiz category when I answered a question that was intended for the women. This hatred went back to the previous year’s Skirts and Pants, an annual contest where every male creature in my school competed against every female folk: students, teachers, cooks, nurses etc. Edgar didn’t pick me to give a graduation speech because I was the best student of my junior secondary three class, but because he wanted to scorn me, even if it meant embarrassing the entire school before our parents and guests. But by night of that day, I was sure my rep had been dealt a big boost in preparation for my senior years in secondary school. The mere thought of standing on that brightly lit stage of my school’s auditorium, in front of parents I couldn't say what was on their minds, and in front of my mates who didn't like me, scared. I remember waking up that morning with an uneasy feeling.
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