A Chance For Love

  ***

  Just when I thought my life had gotten a tad better, I found myself in a whole new hell. From the moment Madam Charity intervened, I knew I had lost the battle. I would have to accept my fate as Raheem's unwilling seatmate.

  While everyone bought his Hypermetropia crap, I did not. And Amarachi's 'I-don't-buy-it' look told me she seconded my belief that he had made up the story. Would he not wear glasses if his story were true? Unless of course he wore contact lenses, which I doubted. He'd only made this up to taunt me.

  I watched Madam Charity move around, gesticulating as she taught about poetic devices, but rage roared in my ears, tuning out her voice. I could only think of my current situation; a situation I would have to endure for the rest of my school year. Once assigned to our seats, we were not allowed to sit elsewhere unless our form teacher allowed it. The hopelessness of my new reality hit me like a blow.

  I had scooted to the far end of the seat to create as much distance as possible between Raheem and I, but this didn't bring me the security I craved. I lowered my gaze to my backpack sitting on my laps like a favored child. Thinking fast, I wedged it between Raheem and I. I knew the childishness in finding safety in the barricade the backpack built, but I couldn't help it.

  Amarachi and I had literally let a boy come between us. We'd sworn to never let this happen. I thought back to the small talks we'd had during class, the notes we exchanged, and every other thing we used to do. With Raheem between us, these were all things of the past. I missed them already. I missed my best friend.

  She felt just as lonely as I did. I could see it in the glum look in her otherwise sharp eyes, the look as though a part of her had been sucked into a vacuum. Together, we had protested when Madam Charity asked Raheem to sit between us. When the finality of Madam Charity's decision dawned on us, we'd asked her to have Raheem sit at the edge of our seat. But our offer had fallen on deaf ears. His smoldering presence between my best friend and I would be a constant reminder of our defeat.

  If it depended on me, I would shut him out of my senses and pretend he didn't exist. But his expensive perfume assaulted my nose with a tickling sensation, nauseating me, making me too aware of his presence.

  Wrinkling my face, I scrunched up my nose, praying it would shove off the sick feeling. But it didn't go away. If anything, my resistance made it all worse. Again, I scrunched up my nose.

  Casually, I studied Amarachi and others close enough to share with me in this hell. They were in paradise, oblivious of my struggle to breathe. This perfume, from the depth of hell, had preyed on my rage.

  A light bulb lit up inside my head. It all made sense. Yesterday, I hadn't sneezed until my encounter with Raheem. It had to be his perfume. It no doubt contained one or two ingredients I found toxic. I had an allergy, and I never knew of it until this moment. This explained why nobody else seemed affected by the unbearably strong smell. Curse him and the stench of death he brought with him.

  Now that I thought of it, I wished I had dumped snot all over his face when I had the chance. He deserved that and more for ruining the health I had managed just fine until he came along.

  Digging into my backpack, I pulled out my neatly folded handkerchief. I gripped it, waiting for a sneeze. And it didn't disappoint. I pressed the handkerchief to my nose and cursed under my breath. I sneezed again. And again. Tears pooled around my itchy eyes. I blinked to keep from scratching them. It didn't seem to work. I blinked again. Frantically.

  Was it just me, or were Raheem's eyes fixed on me? I didn't look up to confirm.

  "Vicky?" Amarachi called, her voice low.

  I understood she meant to ask after my health. "I'll survive."

  She gasped as I turned to look at her. Panic engulfed her at the sight of my blood shot eyes. "Your eyes. Are you alright? Should I take you to the sickbay? Surely, your fairy godmother will know what to do."

  "It's nothing." I caught Raheem's eye. He regarded me not with an everyday stare, but the stare a hunter would give a wounded animal just before picking it up, gutting it and hanging it over a crackling fire.

  I didn't think he would speak to me. I didn't even want him to. But then, his lips parted to give way to words. And in that moment, I let myself believe he would apologize for the inconvenience his perfume had caused me. I braced myself for how to respond. Would I accept his apology or give him a taste of his own medicine?

  "I asked around and you're the class brain," he said. "Tutor me."

  It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, I fumed. He'd asked around and found me to be the class brain. So what? I would never tutor him. Giving Madam Charity my undivided attention, I played deaf to Raheem's order. How greatly he must think of himself to think he could order me like that. Tutor him?

  An angry frown creased my forehead as he spoke again. "Do we have a deal?"

  "Screw you!" I said, my voice louder than I had intended. Eyes turned in my direction. Madam Charity headed for our seat. I fought to contain my rage.

  "Why's she crying?" I heard someone whisper. I heard other voices, but paid no attention.

  Madam Charity panicked at the sight of my eyes. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

  "Irritation," I said.

  "Maybe there's something in her eyes," a girl said. She sounded genuinely concerned. But what did I care?

  Madam Charity drew closer to me and held my face, tilting it up. She placed two fingers on my eyelids and pulled to have an undisturbed view of my eyes. Her gaze fished for any foreign body.

  "There's nothing," she said. "Maybe sand got into your eyes. Think you can do us a favor and stop scratching?"

  "Yeah, I can manage that," I said.

  That seemed to satisfy her. She turned to face Raheem. "Problems?"

  Raheem stood up and raked his hand through his hair. "Actually, miss, there is a bit of a situation here."

  Madam Charity folded her arms, wordlessly pledging her undivided attention to him.

  "I've been thinking," he said. For a dramatic effect, he appeared to be thinking. "I've already missed close to half the term. If I am to catch up, I need a tutor."

  Madam Charity nodded her understanding. "Yeah, you need someone to put you through. This is the best decision one in your situation could ever come up with. I was even going to suggest it to you."

  "Oh," Raheem said.

  "Yeah. So, do you have any special preference, or do you want me to nominate someone for you?"

  "I already have someone to serve this special privilege, thank you," Raheem said. "I asked around, and everyone recommended a certain Victoria Brown as first choice."

  "Here she is, sitting by your right." Beaming with pride, Madam Charity gripped my shoulder. "She'll gladly do this."

  Raheem smirked. The victory in his eyes seemed to mock me. He had just accomplished his purpose, using our form teacher's intervention to coerce me into accepting to tutor him. I would not let this be forced on me.

  "I'm afraid I can't tutor him," I said.

  Raheem's upturned lips told me he had seen this coming; the squirrel wiggling between the hunter's trap moments before it gave in to death. In the blink of an eye, the once organized class morphed into a marketplace. Quite the expected reaction.

  Amarachi stepped in to save me. "Actually, she's under the weather. It just won't be possible."

  "Cynthia will gladly put him through," I said.

  Awed into silence, Cynthia could only afford to gawk at me. She blinked. And blinked again. Her brain seemed to have a hard time processing that I had handed over Raheem to her. Precious nudged her with an elbow to fetch her attention.

  "Oh, yes," Cynthia jumped to her feet. She hyperventilated with sheer excitement. "Yes. I'll gladly tutor him. What'll give me more joy than helping a new student catch up?"

  Madam Charity took a moment to weigh Cynthia's motive. She seemed to be fine with it. "Very well then. Raheem, Cynthia will be your tutor. Are you okay with that?"

  "I thought I m
ade myself clear when I said I wanted the best," Raheem said. "Is not the other girl the best?"

  "Yes," Madam Charity said. "She is, but-"

  "Why then should I settle for less, good lady?" His eyes held all the innocence he could muster. But beneath it I could see flames of a fiery temper.

  "I'm just as good!" Cynthia snapped. Frustration flitted across her face.

  Raheem narrowed his eyes to slits. From the way he sized her up, I could almost swear he would reconsider. Cynthia had the looks to please the eyes and trouble the mind. Even an arrogant foreigner didn't stand a chance to resist. Or so I thought.

  "Really?" Raheem asked, his voice laced with mockery. "And she's the one who passed the scholarship exam, yes?"

  Too beat-up to speak, Cynthia settled back in her chair.

  "We should have this conversation later," Madam Charity suggested. Her tone held no room for negotiation. "Raheem, meet me once school is over and let's sort this out."

  She waited for Raheem to sit down before she resumed teaching. She only had a few minutes before the bell rang, but every second seemed to drag on for an hour.

  One...Two...Three ...

  Counting, I trained my eyes on Madam Charity and held my breath to escape Raheem's perfume, the death stench from hell. Madam Charity might think I paid full attention, but a closer look would show my discomfort.

  Forty...Forty-one ...

  Feeling pressure around my throat, I rapped my fingertips on my desk in a quest to raise my tolerance level. I knew it would only be a moment before I sucked in the air Raheem had so carelessly contaminated.

  At the sixtieth count, I gasped for air. I hadn't intended for it to draw attention, but when Madam Charity's teaching reached a sudden halt, and heads snapped in my direction, I knew I had failed. Greedily, I sucked in lungfuls of air.

  Slamming my book shut, I dumped it in my backpack and rested my head on my desk for some shut eye.

  I don't know how long I slept, but when I pried my eyes open, I found Amarachi sitting beside me, right where Raheem had sat. Literature class had ended. Everyone had left for break, except us.

  "I can't stand the arrogance of that boy," Amarachi said. "Raheem or whatever he's called. Son of the devil."

  Her last comment made my lips twitch. I raised myself to sit upright. "I can't believe how long I slept."

  "I didn't want to disturb you. You probably didn't have any rest last night, thanks to you-know-who." She gave me the walls-have-ears look.

  "Let's go grab some food," I said, strapping on my backpack. My stomach rumbled in response.

  "What's with the bag?" Amarachi asked.

  I shrugged. "Maybe I won't be coming back after my meeting with Stella. Climbing these stairs again to fetch my bag would be tiring."