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I relaxed my head back on my desk, blinking repeatedly to hinder unwanted tears. Before I could blink twice, i felt a soft palm on my hair, and a mouth closer to my ears ” sorry about what happened yesterday Mercy, you shouldn’t have left, I know you hate seeing people around you, but I wasn’t there to disturb you too” said Martins, ….God! my heart beated fast like a “Bata” drum, words refusing to come out of my mouth, I never knew what to say nor what to do. I kept quiet, and he left me in great shock…I wonder who told him I hate seeing people around me, I wonder what he thinks of me . But I never hate seeing people around me, I only love being alone.

Just after the class, I took a long walk where I found a very cool spot, closer to the spot center. One could see the spectator’s seats even from afar and the greenish field seeming to be very new. There, I sat down like a hopeless street child buried in her own thoughts “I’m never a sadistic being, I never choose to live my life a loner neither do I seek refuge in hating people. I’m only going through rebellious phase. Why is everyone too blind to see things from my own very perspective?”…A tear tickled down my face, suddenly wiped out by the white piece of clothe folded in my hand.

There I was when I heard a voice “Hi Mercy” it was Henry, a tall pompous young boy in the senior class. He took a closer walk towards me as I’ve refused to answer his greetings
“Hi Mercy, I was actually greeting you, but it seems you never heard me” he said, drawing his chin niggardly, I said nothing, hoping he would just go away, but instead he continue vomiting unreasonable talks.


“Excuse me” I have something important to do” I muttered harshly, “I will will walk you” he said. At this point, I was getting tired already “Excuse me, I do rather walk alone”, I snarled and walk off. I couldn’t turn my back to see his reaction, but I was very sure he stood staring…

The break was over, the junior students running to their classes, the senior students walking majestically and the teachers getting set for their next class. The afternoon class was taken by a “Cooper”, called Uncle Chris, a thin young man who taught Literature.

“Let’s quickly revise what was taught in our last class, what is poetry? If I may ask”
The class was silent for some minutes. I’ve always love moment like it, I quickly push my hands up, waiting for an approval. “Yes” he said, pointing at me, indicating an approval. “Poetry is a form of Literally art which uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language” I said
“Very good” , he then continued, so today, we will be emphasizing more on the types of Poetry, but before that does anybody have an idea…This time around, I don’t think I do know the answer

. The only hand up was that of Martins, he stood up proudly ” Sonnet, Ode, Lyrics, Epic, Ballad, Lullaby, Dirge, Elegy, Pastoral and Panegyric”….”wow! very correct! give him a round of applause”, I was the only one who wasn’t clapping, besides, there is nothing special about what he just said. But goodness! he is not only handsome, he is intelligent too
It was drizzling slightly until the came to the very end after forty-five minutes
“Martins and Mercy, see me in my office” said Master Chuks..he patted my head and left the class with his scattered legs, facing West and South

Martins smiled broadly as if he knew more than what Uncle Chuka wanted to say. Then he came forward to sit beside me
I wondered what he had in mind
In the same vein, I wondered if what Uncle Chuka had as well

What do you think they both have in mind?

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