The night passed on without any nightmares of the stranger and I was discharged from the clinic in the early hours of the morning. I was given a few painkillers just in case I would experience any pain like I had yesterday. I frowned. It was all the clinic could give out to their patients nowadays and a lot of us pupils complain about it all the time. I probably wasn't going to take it anyway. I would have to keep it in the suitcase just in case I needed it later on.
I had already taken a bath and had breakfast at the clinic, so all that was left of me was to get ready for class. I went to the dormitories and the place was empty. Everyone had gone for breakfast and only a few prefects lurked around the corridors ready to catch any offenders who were late for breakfast. I know. Sounds silly, doesn't it? But that's why the school was so strict. Hopefully, I wasn't just exaggerating and this also happens at other boarding schools.
I was free to enter the dormitory premises since I had a clinic pass with me and the prefects let me in. I went to my dorm and I was greeted by empty bunk beds. I went to my bunk bed and put away the painkillers in my suitcase that lay on top of my black trunk beside the bunk bed. Today was Wednesday so that meant I had to wear my sky blue coloured uniform. We all have specific days in which we wear our uniforms. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we would wear our sky blue uniforms. Then Tuesday and Thursday, we would wear beige uniforms. If it came to prefects, they were all given uniforms different from others. And each year, their uniforms always had a different colour and a different pattern.
After dressing up, I got my school bag and packed my books for the day in it. I put on my black school shoes after putting on white stockings and dashed out of the dorm, hoping that I wouldn't run into any of the pupils coming out from the dining hall. I wanted to get to the empty classrooms before any one of my classmates.
Just as you pass by the orchard, outside the wall fence that surrounded the dormitory and the ablutions, up ahead were the classroom blocks. Behind the classes was the playing field which was quite free to roam and open since a lot of by passers that include the local people of the area, would pass by whenever they felt like it. Even cattle owned by a few locals would come over and graze around the ground.
To the left side of the classroom block were the senior classes and the teachers' staff room. They had just built up that block earlier on this year and ever since then, it was pretty hard for us to make noise and have a bit of freedom whenever the teachers weren't around or they were having a meeting. At first, the teachers' staff room used to be near the dormitory area. On one hand, it was good that they moved the staff room elsewhere away from the dormitories for more privacy. But then again, it became such a huge bummer, now that the teachers were much closer to us. That meant no noise making when we felt like it. As though dealing with irritating prefects wasn't more than enough.
I got to the empty classroom and there were moments like these that I enjoyed being alone. The white and blue floor tiles shone brightly as the sun rays shone through the windows giving the entire room a wonderful bright glow. It almost made the room look heavenly. We always tried to keep our classes clean because of the white and blue tiles that easily got stained. There was a class rota and everyone was given a day to clean the classroom, even on the weekends when we have inspection.
There were three columns of desks arranged in the room, the middle row having the most number of desks. At the back wall of the class were a board where the timetable was stuck and the duty rota for cleaning the classroom. Other things were stuck there too. Like the class list which was written on a colourful sheet of laminated paper and everyone's name was etched on it with a stylish girly font and colourful ink by our very own stylish graffiti artist, Matilda. She was really gifted and absolutely talented.
I went to the second column and sat on my desk, the third one. Each desk was only meant for two people and each desk had its own bookrack just underneath the desk. I had left a few of my books in the rack the other day. I was putting some of the books I left in the rack into the bag when a piece of paper fell out of the book I was holding in my hand. At first I thought it was just some ordinary piece of paper, but when I looked at it, I felt something strange.
I turned back to looking at the paper again. It was folded. Maybe it was a note? But who could leave me a note? I couldn't think of anyone at the moment. I was one person who didn't consider themselves the most important or popular person in the entire school for anyone to leave notes around for me to read. But that wasn't the case. I had to read the note if I wanted to know who sent me the note.
I bent over to pick up the note and just as I straightened myself to unfold the paper, a loud shriek came by the door that I almost had a heart attack.
"Diana, you're back!" Christine came rushing into the room and came to hug me. "You're back! When did you get here? Why weren't you in the room?"
"Would you just chill?" I asked as I raised my finger to her lips. "Too many questions at the same time, you will make me run mad and I might just go to the asylum."
"Don't say that, Diana," said Christine. I could tell on her face that she felt bad. Sometimes she took my jokes too seriously.
"Hey, I'm just joking," I said as I jerked Christine's shoulder. "You take me too seriously."
"That is why I missed you," Christine hugged me again and then she went behind me and sat on the other side of the desk. She was my desk mate, a.k.a, "deskie", a term we use to call our desk mates at school.
"Why didn't I find you in the room after breakfast?" Christine asked.
"Nothing, I just wanted to come here to have this place to myself," I said as I twirled the small piece of paper around in between my index finger and thumb.
"But you're okay, right?" Christine asked as she looked over her books in her rack.
"I'm very much fine today. Are there any updates for an upcoming test later on this week or the next?"
"Well, nothing at the moment. You shouldn't even worry about tests. You're one person who easily does well even without studying."
I rolled my eyes at Christine and I wished she knew how it was sometimes difficult for me to understand a few things in class. It's not like I was a slow learner. I was just one who always got caught up in their own imagination in class and loses concentration. Most of the time, I would partly be in class and the other half of me would be stuck in my mind. People always considered me a brainac in class since I was really involved with books the entire time. But that's when I'm trying to understand something I never got to grasp during lessons. I was good with learning things pretty quickly. Even though I wasn't always at the top of the class, I was still considered one of the brightest pupils.
When it came to being stuck in my imagination, I was one person who always enjoyed being in my own head when the whole world around me didn't feel to be a suitable place to be in at times. I have always had such a wild imagination since I was young. My connection with books and incredible movies made it grow a whole lot bigger over the years. It was a good thing for me because it was more of a comfort zone. That must explain why I enjoy being alone sometimes and people who don't really know me might call me a loner. It also explains why every night, I always dream. There never goes a day that goes by that I don't dream when I sleep, even if it's just dosing off for a few minutes. If I wake up and I don't recall what I have dreamt, something just triggers my brain to remember all the time.
Speaking of dreams, I remembered the dream I had of the stranger who took my life. I tried not to think about it, but the image of him in that long black cloak and hood that hid his face was engraved in my mind like an imprint. Maybe all of this was just a figment of my imagination and the vision of Christine I had yesterday was just my mind playing tricks on me. And my fainting in the orchard was nothing but my body just getting weary with all that we have to do around school nowadays.
I was thankful when our classmates started to come in the classroom one after another. It made me forget about the stranger from my dreams. Class was starting really soon and as I looked outside through the windows, pupils were going to their respective classes. Before class start, we always have daily devotion. As a Christian Catholic school, we always have devotion to the Lord. We would always sing praise songs. That was the only time we ever got to make noise as much as possible before we went under strict surveillance again by the teachers and the Sisters.
All of my classmates were glad to see me back with them. Some say class wasn't the same without me and others were just glad I was back with them for the sake of my dry sense of humour. I was one who always spoke sarcastically sometimes and my classmates enjoyed it, especially if all that was directed at the teachers.
It was time for devotion and we were singing our praises to the Lord. All the classrooms were noisy with all the singing and the drumming of the desks going on, though that was not really allowed. I was among the others drumming the desks with my hands with Christine drumming beside me and I could see Amanda in the first column singing her heart out. There was always something special about devotion. Not only do you just sing your heart out to the Lord, it also gave you a sense of fulfilment in your heart. Like you're ready to take on what lies ahead of you, even when that means facing more punishments with perfects or teachers as the day goes on.
After devotion, we had our usual bible sharing. Every day, someone will give out a verse from the bible and share with the whole class. We would follow the sequence in the way we sit in class to share the word of God. Today, it was our class monitor who was to give the bible sharing, Chisha. She was dark skinned with thick black hair; it kind of stood out look like an afro. She was a good class monitor. She was one person who had authority written on her face. Sometimes, people would think she is too strict, which she is. But she is a good person. Being a monitor was kind of hard. Not when you know you have a whole lot of noise makers for classmates. But she was one who considered herself a bit more of a show off because she always did so well in class. I bet that was one thing I didn't really like about her. But it's not like I hated her anyway.
Right after we were done with bible sharing and there were a few contributions here and there, our class teacher arrived, Mr Ngandu. Each class had a class teacher who would go through the class register with the pupils and later on discuss things concerning the class. Not only was he our class teacher, but he was also our mathematics teacher too. He was a tall man with a dark complexion and a bald head, with a slight pot belly.
While our class teacher was going through the class register, I finally remembered the folded note on the desk. I had completely forgotten about it. I continued to look at it, wondering whether to see what was written on it. I was completely absorbed by the note that I hadn't noticed my name being called out from the register.
"Diana, are you in class?" Mr Ngandu's voice was loud enough for me to snap out of my thoughts.
"Huh?" I looked ahead at the teacher's face, feeling a little disarrayed.
"I was asking if you're in class, Diana," said Mr Ngandu. "You looked really absentminded. Are you still not feeling well?"
"No..no," I stammered. "I'm completely fine."
"Well, I hope so." Mr Ngandu gave me a little frown before turning back to continue calling out the rest of the names on the register.
Great! A little stupid note had already put me in trouble. I should just read it and forget about it before the first period for our lessons begin. We had R.E (Religious Education) as our first period today and I wouldn't like to be caught off absentminded again, not with the type of teacher we had.
While Mr Ngandu continued to call out the register, I took the note in my hand. I made sure as to check if Christine beside me was watching me, but she was busy doodling on a piece of scruffy looking paper. She was one who easily got bored during registration and she would doodle sometimes just to pass time. I couldn't blame her for it.
I unfolded the piece of paper and a surprisingly and yet neat handwriting stood out on the paper. I had never seen such a beautiful handwriting in my life. It looked more like those fancy fonts you could use on your computers or on the latest touch phones. But this was clearly handwritten. They seemed more like italics but with a beautiful touch to it. It was a cursive handwriting alright and it was lovely, but enough of admiring the handwriting. What I got to read out of the note gave me goose bumps.
"You may think just because you're still here alive and well, that all this is far from over. The sun will rise and fall; the moon will shine when it needs to. Days will turn into weeks, weeks into months. But I will come back one day and this time, you won't be able to get away from me that easily. Your life is already in my hands. Remember that."
I would remember that alright, even if it meant for an eternity. My fingers loosened and the note fell to the floor. I suddenly felt so powerless and I couldn't move. Who could have sent this? I didn't have to think twice about that. It was pretty obvious. I had escaped him once, I might not be lucky the second time he finally decides to come after me again.
"Hey, are you okay?" Christine asked, as I felt her hand on my arm. That brought me back to earth.
"Ahhh.. yes, I'm fine," I said. Mr Ngandu had finished calling out the register and had decided to leave class early before we could look at any other business.
"You looked a little pale for a second. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Don't worry about me, Christine, I'm fine." I bended over to pick up the note and put it in my bag.
"Okay. You better have your bible with you. Sister Marjorie won't be so lenient on you even if you were sick."
"I know she won't," I said as got my bible out of bag for our first lesson.
The siren rang, the first period had begun. Sister Marjorie came into the class immediately the siren rang. She was one person who was never late for class. And just like the rest of the sisters in school, she was kind of strict. There were good times when she was in totally good mood. But that was just "those" days. The rest of the time she was one who you wouldn't like to face even outside of class.
She was the youngest among the sisters in school and even by looking at her face and small body frame, you could easily tell that she was somewhere in her late twenties. She was beautiful with her fair brown complexion and I could imagine that she had such a nice body too. Sometimes you would wonder why she became a sister in the first place. She was very pretty and when she smiled, which she rarely did, dimples appeared by the side of her cheeks. I bet if she wasn't a sister, she would have been a whole lot happier and would smile more. I imagine that whichever man comes across her in town would be taken by her beautiful face but would be hugely disappointed when they noticed she was a sister just by looking at the clothes she wears.
Sister Marjorie walked briskly into the room, towards the teacher's table. We all stood up to greet her. She didn't reply back but nodded her head to assure us of our greeting. We obediently sat down. Looks likes she wasn't in a good mood again. Oh well, we had to be at our best behaviour today to avoid getting into trouble.
R.E went smoothly for the next hour or so, reading through bible passages and looking at the topic for today. Our next period was English. I always enjoyed English periods because our teacher, Mr Daka, was so lively and liked to joke around. It was one period in class I never got to wander off because Mr Daka always took me on an imaginative journey.
After our two periods gone, it was break time. We were only given ten minutes before classes resumed again. That was the littlest time I ever had for break time. Back at primary school, thirty minutes was enough. But this was secondary school, so, you know what I mean. We had to get our snacks for break from our rooms or buy something at the tuck shop. And with such little time, you have to rush back to class or else you would risk finding yourselves on the offender's list. And that wasn't the worst part.
We were never allowed to eat food in class, we had to eat from outside. That was pretty unfair if you ask me. It's not like we would litter the class as though we were babies in nursery school. If the class was dirty, we would be punished for it anyway. And our class prefects were always there to monitor each class and see that we don't enter with food in class. If you were done, you would go back in the class after a quick inspection by your class prefect. Things become worse when the siren for break rings announcing that break was over. That meant you had to give away your food to the prefect or just get rid of it by throwing it in the bin. You might consider it a bit unfair; I found it to be utter ridiculousness. Sometimes, I felt prefects enjoyed this part of their line of duty because they get to go away with the food and enjoy it later on. As for me, I would rather just throw it in the bin than let the bloodthirsty vultures enjoy my snack.
As always, I managed to finish my snack outside. I never ate a lot. After my class prefect, Grace checked me at the door of the classroom, I went in.The siren wailed to announce that break was over and by that time, half of us were already in school. We were all settled down for the next lesson.
Three hours later, it was time for our one hour lunch break. As much as we had enough for lunch hour, there was definitely no enough down time after you eat your lunch. For me, it was pretty pointless to find myself resting on your bunk bed when you know ten to fifteen minutes later, you will be back in class and if you're late, well, you already know the drill. I much prefer to dose off on my desk back in class and wait till the next period of class begins.
Classes were finally over at 5:00 PM and since it was a Wednesday, that meant we had clubs for an hour. I was one person who never really liked clubs, since primary school. As much as it was educational to know and learn things that are not sometimes taught in the school syllabus and going out for educational trips, I don't know why, but, I wasn't really a fan of clubs. Maybe it's because most clubs like Red Cross or Scripture Union always used to be so packed with people and I never liked crowds. Even my French Club I used to attend to in primary school was better. Though, I never really liked it anyway.
As usual, some of my classmates were heading out of class to attend their clubs and there were other pupils walking down the corridor to other classes also heading to their respective clubs. I still sat on my desk, with my deskie right beside me as always. Just like me, she wasn't a fan of clubs either.
The class we were in held the Writer's Club. There were three reasons why I used to like this club. As much as it meant not moving from my class just to attend a club in another class, I could just sit on my desk the whole time. There weren't a lot of pupils who attended this club, so, it was perfect for me. And last but not the least, I was a big fan of writing. I had been writing short stories since I learnt how to read and write very well. My interest in writing came about when I started to read children's story books. That sent me thinking into how the writer's mind works. That made me think and I guess that's how I was able to have a powerful imagination.
We were less than twenty in the club and it mostly comprised of me and my remaining classmates who also didn't like to move around to other clubs. Anyway, it was mostly because we were a club that mostly enjoyed reading and writing. We loved reading each other's pieces and it was fun. And the best part, I was the president of the club. Me! Can you imagine that? I couldn't. Especially that the day I found out that there was even a writer's club later on last year and I got to be chosen as president on arrival. At that point, almost everyone knew I loved writing stories and they said I was really good. Even a few of the senior pupils agreed and I became class president without even holding elections for the position.
Our very own English teacher was our club presenter. Every club had a teacher as the presenter so as to monitor us pupils in our clubs. The worst part, but sometimes the best part of him was that he never really came to check up on us since he was also the club presenter of the Scripture Union. The fact that he wasn't always around was always fun. That meant more freedom and sometimes we could do whatever we wanted for a full hour without supervision. But as the club president, I had to keep the club going and that's why we always talked about the most interesting things about story writing. That's what kept the club lively and everyone was free to say anything. I did this because most of the time, our Deputy school head would be passing by to check up on the clubs. And as usual, he always found us in the middle of discussion whenever he passed by and checked up on us through the window as he walked down the corridor.
But as for today, everything felt different. I didn't feel as lively as I used to be during this period. Maybe it was because I just came back from recovering from my little episode yesterday, but I know that was far from it. So, I decided to make my deskie take up the responsibility of spearheading the meeting today.
"Diana? Are you joking with me right now?" Christine asked as the last remaining people left the class and some of us remained behind for the Writer's Club.
"Who else?" I suggested shrugging my shoulders. "I'm not feeling too well and I don't think want to stand for too long by the board."
"But you said you were feeling much better."
"You know that I'm still not myself, Christine. Just go up and there and think of something."
"Wait? Are you trying to tell me that you didn't come up with a topic for today?" Christine looked at me as though her eyes would fall out of their sockets anytime now.
"No. I was admitted, remember? I completely forgot that it was even Wednesday."
Christine held her forehead as though she was checking herself for a fever. "Oh my goodness," she muttered. I could see beads of sweat start to form on her head underneath her black short curly hair. "You know perfectly well that I don't like presenting in front of a crowd, Diana."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said as I quickly stood up from my desk. "I'll handle it."
Christine quickly nodded her head in agreement. That's just how much she doesn't like presenting in front of everyone even if there were less than ten people in class. I mean, her last presentation in Science class was terrible, I thought she was going to mix the wrong chemicals in the beaker and create a bomb. Luckily, we were still alive up to this very moment.
Just as I liked it, there were a few people in class who belonged to the Writer's Club, including Amanda. I was about to place myself in front of the people in class when the door to our class opened and our club representative, Mr Daka came in.
"Hello, everyone," said Mr Daka. That would be the second time he was greeting some of us today. His eyes flew to me since I was the only person standing. "Diana, are you still feeling alright to carry on with the meeting?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Mr Daka," I answered. "I'll manage."
"Aaah, Mr Daka, sir," Christine raised her hand so as to say something. Mr Daka fully stepped in the class and allowed Christine to speak.
Christine stood up for this one. "Mr Daka, Diana is still not feeling well. I think it would be better if she rested a little longer."
"I was thinking the same thing," said Mr Daka as he held his beard. He had a small beard that he liked pulling at sometimes whenever he was thinking. "Diana, sit down. You won't be the one heading this meeting today."
"But, sir.....," I started to say but he interrupted me anyway.
"Not another word," he said. "Now sit down, please. Now that I am here, I will be in charge."
Before I could open my mouth to say anything else, I found Christine stretching herself over the desk to grab me by the elbow so as to pull me back.
"Just sit down," she insisted, pulling me down with her to sit.
Mr Daka smiled at the sight of us. It might be because I had a surprised look on my face and Christine was looking at me like a mother would to her child, telling him or her to sit down. It looked like neither of us was going to head the meeting today after all.
He walked over to the teacher's table next to the window on the other side of the classroom. As soon as he sat down, the door few open and other pupils from other classes and grades came into the room. They were also part of the Writer's Club.
As soon as everyone settled down, Mulenga, a classmate of mine who sat in the roll in line with the teacher's desk asked, "Mr Daka, why aren't you with the Scripture Union today?"
"So, I'm not welcome in this club anymore?" he asked.
"How can you even say that, sir?" Amanda asked. "This is your club, Mr Daka."
Mr Daka gave us a smile. "I know I'm not always around when I need to be," he said, "but I don't have to worry since you have Diana around."
As much as I wanted to smile to that, it didn't feel much of a compliment to smile to. It's like I wasn't happy about anything at the moment. Did that stranger also take my happiness too? I felt really hollow.
Wait a minute.
Why did I think of him all of the sudden?
"You're very right, sir," said Christine with a silly grin on her face.
Everyone else started muttering in agreement. I looked around at everyone and I couldn't help but feel weird. They were all praising me. But why didn't I feel happy about it?
"Okay, I have an announcement to make," said Mr Daka. That was more of a sign telling us to keep quiet because we were making noise at the moment.
"What is it, Mr Daka?" a pupil from a grade eight class asked.
"I would like to announce to you all that, there is going to be a Writer's Contest this term," said Mr Daka. "Different schools will compete in each district and those that come in first will then compete at Provincial Level. Then those who will come up first in each province will be determined if their story is better or not."
Every single person in class now started to talk excitedly about the competition. I wonder who was going to represent our school on this one.
"Hey, Diana," Christine annoyingly tapped at my shoulder. I turned to look at her.
"What is it?" I asked trying my best not to sound rude.
"What do you think? Wouldn't it be great if you were to enter the competition?"
I hadn't thought of that since Mr Daka announced. I really didn't know where my head was at the moment.
"I don't know," I simply answered.
"Eh? How could you not know? You're an excellent writer, that's for sure."
"Yes. But there are people in this club who are better writers than I am. We shouldn't underestimate people, you know?"
"I know. But who better to represent us than you? You're our chairperson after all. Or may I say president or chairwoman?"
"President is fine, thank you." The last thing I wanted was for her to call me something parallel to that.
Then all of the sudden, Amanda asked: "Why can't Diana represent us, sir?"
I wanted to slap my forehead. This was so not happening right now. Amanda was thinking the same way Christine was.
"I couldn't agree more," said Mulenga. "She should do it."
I gulped. What was Mulenga saying?
Other girls started to murmur in agreement. I for one knew that this wasn't going to be fair for others who were into writing like I was. By this, I meant, there was someone in here who was way better than I was.
"But what of the rest of us who also want to represent the school? Don't we have a say in this?"
I wanted to wince at the sound of that voice behind me but instead I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had a feeling she was going to speak out about this. And I had to be ready for what she was going to say next.
"This is a free club, Brenda," said Mr Daka. "Everyone has a right to air out their views."
I felt everyone's attention turn to Brenda. Surprisingly, I even turned around on my desk to look at her since she sat at the back of the class in my roll.
"I think it will be pretty unfair if we just choose one person instead of considering others," Brenda spoke. Her eyes landed on me. "It will really be unfair indeed."
I gulped. I could recognise that look even if I were to stand from a distance. Brenda was also in the ninth grade as I was, but in a different class. She's a damn hell of a good writer. And when I mean good, I mean, you could feel that your piece of writing was a total piece of nothing compared to hers. Hers was close to excellent. Almost like those of famous bestselling authors. I have read a couple of stories she wrote during my stay here in school and they were just excellent. Sometimes I even wondered if my stories were even better.
When it came to choosing who was a better writer in our ninth grade section, I personally felt Brenda was totally the best. A lot of people would say that including her classmates. But there was usually a clash about who was better between her and me, that for some reason, I didn't like to be compared with her. I knew she was better than I am. And she knew it too.
"Not to worry about that, Brenda," said Mr Daka. "I know how I am going to choose who will represent our school."
Everyone turned their attention to Mr Daka and so did I. Looking at Brenda sometimes made my eyes hurt, and not in the best kind anyway.
"Everyone in this club is going to write a piece of work consisting of just two pages. It could be anything. Maybe an article for some of you in higher grades who have already learnt how to write them. And others, a short story. Whoever will come up with an outstanding piece of writing is the person who is going to represent our school."
This was so much better. Mr Daka should have said all of this from the start. Now everyone had an equal opportunity of entering the competition. There was an excited mood in the classroom. It seemed like everyone was up for the idea, even Brenda.
"When are we going to hand in the work, Mr Daka?" Brenda asked.
"By Friday," he answered. "And I won't be the only one looking through the work. Other English teachers will also help out in finding the winner."
"Sounds fair to me," I said trying to put up a smile on my face.
"Okay, let's get back to business." Mr Daka had a satisfied look on his face.
According to school programs, clubs always took an hour. When the hour marked 4:00 PM, the siren rang. At the end of the period, I had to say, I really enjoyed myself because of the topic we were looking at today with Mr Daka. It somehow felt like every English period, but this time it was something special since it was Writer's Club and anyone could bring out their imagination and thoughts in the open.
Mr Daka had already gone ahead of us, straight to the teacher's staff room. Other pupils were coming out from other classes that held clubs, a huge lot coming from Scripture Union and Red Cross.
Just as I was walking out of class with Christine and Amanda, I felt someone walk up from behind me and push past me, pushing me aside and almost bumping into Christine who walked beside me. Before venting out my anger, I saw Brenda had reached the door and looked at me. She was the one who rudely pushed me aside.
"Can't you look?" Christine asked sharply. She was just as upset as I was and had vented out her anger first.
"It's 'can't you see' Christine," Brenda corrected her rudely. "For someone who is in this club, your English is pretty terrible."
"Hey, don't talk to her like that," I stepped in. She bumped into me and had to deal with me instead, not Christine.
Brenda folded her arms as she looked at me. "Well, looks like Madam President is okay after all," she said. "You really thought that just because you weren't feeling well you would be the one representing our school? Well, you were wrong."
I slapped my forehead. Great. This was just what I needed. Now she thought just because I was president and fell sick the other day, Mr Daka would choose me for the writing competition. Anyway, this wasn't the first time she has had a go at me dealing with writing and stuff. I remember when I wrote a horror story last month and most people who read it loved it, while she, on the other hand, said the story was a complete waste. I for one thought it was the best story I have ever written this year, besides it was the first horror story I had ever written.
"You can think all you want, Brenda. I wasn't even up for it in the first place."
Brenda gave out a little laugh. "Don't lie, Diana. I can see right through, you know?"
"Well, let me say that you're doing a pretty bad job at it. If you thought you were a medium, you better think of some other hobby rather than thinking you know a person just by looking at them."
Christine and Amanda almost burst out laughing and so did a few girls who had remained in class. Brenda furrowed her eyebrows at me. I had struck a nerve alright. All I did was smirk.
"We will see who will be chosen to represent our school," she said. "When I am chosen, it will only determine that I am a better writer than you will ever be."
There was muttering going on in class and I felt like I had just found myself caught in a wrestling match. And it was that kind where I was just a rookie wrestler, stepping into the ring for the first time and going against a professional.
"The platform is all yours, Brenda," I said. "I'm not looking forward to being chosen anyway. Hopefully then, you would stop being a bragging brat."
I walked past her through the wide open door, steeping out of class. I heard footsteps behind me, knowing that it was Christine and Amanda. We walked on the stone path heading to the dorms.
"Why did you say that, Diana?" Amanda asked. "It seem like you aren't going to enter the competition the sir had made for us."
"Maybe I won't," I said. "She just got me so angry with how she just rudely walked past me and how she made fun of Christine."
"She has no manners, Diana," said Christine. "But that doesn't mean you have to drop yourself out of the competition."
"I know that Brenda thinks that she is all high and mighty, but it doesn't give her the right to think that she can just boss people around," I said as we soon as we passed the teacher's staff room.
"There is a reason why people in her class and at the dorms are scared of her," said Amanda. "She could be a bully too."
"Tell me about it," said Christine."That's why she is such a bad storywriter."
Amanda and I turned to look at Christine wondering if she had said the right thing or not. Even Amanda knew Brenda was really good.
"It's true," Christine said as she shrugged her shoulders. "I can bet that she doesn't come up with those stories from her very own head."
"Stop talking nonsense," I said. We had soon reached the dorms. "Let's just forget about it, okay? I'm really angry right now."
"Gosh, isn't today the day offenders get to work?"Amanda asked.
"I totally forgot. Let's go and check if our names are on the list."
The three of us found ourselves in the dorm area and quickly went for the notice board where they stuck the offender's list. There was a crowd as always. Luckily, our names weren't on the list after checking it out. But Brenda's was though.
"Ha, the queen herself is going to be humbled today," said Christine with a jolly look on her face. She looked really triumphant.
"Keep quiet, will you?" Amanda asked. "You can get us into trouble."
"Let's go and change," I said.
Just as the three of us headed for the dorm, we caught sight of Brenda coming along with some of her friends. Christine and Amanda noticed her too and we all made eye contact with her. She ignored us as though we were dirt. Maybe it was for the best. The last thing I wanted was to get into a fight with her that would only land us into trouble with the prefects.
Just as we were about to enter through the door of our dorm, I heard Christine snicker in front of me. She obviously wanted to laugh about Brenda finding herself on the offender's list. I for one was too angry to try and talk her out of it that I felt some weird feeling in me take over. It was anger alright, but there was something else too.
I had my foot into the dorm when I turned around and saw Brenda heading into her dorm with her friends. Then I felt like my head was about to crack open. I held my head for a minute and held the wall of the dorm to prevent myself from falling.
"Diana, are you okay?" came Amada when she the position I was in.
"I'm fine," I replied. "Just a slight headache."
"You should carry a bottle of water with you when we head out," said Amanda.
"Will do."
I straightened myself and went straight to the bunk bed where I found Christine already changing out of her uniform. I quickly started to change as well. We only had a few minutes before the prefects start to chase some of us out of the dorm area so as to leave those on the offender's list assigned to work in the dorm area to clean.
I couldn't help but feel there something strange going on with me. The time I was entering the dorm and had looked at Brenda, I had another vision, just like the one I had yesterday about the stranger and Christine.
And this time, I saw the stranger again all covered in his hood holding Brenda's head in his hand and her lifeless headless body next to his feet on the floor all bloodied up.
The feeling had taken the better of me and that's why I had that vision or was I just imagining things. I hope I was. But all that felt really real.
Just as I was stepping out of the dorm with my two friends, I noticed Brenda coming out of her dorm to the right. I couldn't help but have that feeling again that my head was aching like hell. What was happening to me?
I completely turned away and followed my friends out of the dorm. I couldn't stop thinking about the vision. As horrifying as it was, I should have been scared but I wasn't, not like the way I had been with the first one of Christine dead in the stranger's arms.
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Something was definitely wrong with me today.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
