Papa wants a horse?

“No, I gave you money, what did you do with it?” He said with a raucous voice.

Papa read the newspaper on the table and sipped tea. I bought a pretty blue dress and braided my hair. A lie would suffice in this situation.

“Papa, I need the transport money. I can't walk to university my friends will laugh at me,” I scowled.

Papa placed the newspaper on the table he looked irritated.

“Nami, when I give you money it's budgeted for, you think money grows on trees?” He said.

I hated it when he called me Nami. I wasn't a kid anymore. You'd think a 22-year-old woman would earn some respect from her father, but no, I'm still a child to him. I rolled my eyes.

“Look at your daughter she's disrespecting me with her eyes,” Papa said.

Mom ate bread and savoured the tea as she portrayed a composed expression.

“Papa,” I used my honeyed voice.

For a rich man, he complained a lot about giving me money but ultimately he'd always give it to me.

“Don't use that sweet-talking voice with me, I invented it,” he said.

“What?”

“How do you think I married your mother?  I stole her from her boyfriend with my sweet-talking skills,” he said.

Mom spat her tea and coughed. Papa and I snickered. She wiped her mouth with a white serviette.

“If you are done I can drive you to school,” she said.

Mom was a woman of a few words well mannered and didn't like silly jokes.

“Don't spoil her, let her ride the bicycle to school. It will teach her not to spend money on dresses and hair,” he said.

I hid my smile by chewing the chunk of food in my mouth. Papa noticed my outfit. My light-black skin glowed from the premium treatment I received from the saloon two days ago finishing all the money in the process. I had the right to pamper myself.

“That mountain bike in the garage?” I swallowed. “I will be sweaty by the time I reach school,” I gestured to the pretty blue dress I bought for the summer.

“You see, you have spoiled her,” Papa pointed an accusatory finger at mom.

“Don't blame me I always tell you not to give her too much money,”  She said with a flat voice.

I hated it when my parents argued in front of me. I was running late and I grew impatient. I left them bickering.
I wore the helmet and headed out of the garage with the bike. I rode the bicycle downhill leaving the mansion far behind me.

When I arrived, my dress was drenched in sweat. In the hallway, I met my best friend Doreen she always waited if we had classes together. Doreen abruptly put her head down and walked away from me.

“Miss Naomi, are you absconding from my classes again?”

Without looking behind, I could tell from the cheap perfume it was her.

“No, professor, I’m rushing to the toilet.”

“If you miss my class again you won't be allowed to attend it for the rest of the semester,” She said while glaring at me.

If papa heard I was missing classes he'd nag me to death.

“I need to freshen up so I don't smell like a sack of rotten potatoes,” I grinned.