Not Perfect Enough

Chapter 5

~ANAIS~

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~I'm sick of all this.~

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Oh, my God, I can't deal with this today. It's a free period before recess time and my head is banging because my classmates are yelling, encouraging a fight between two idiots.

I massage my temples, trying to soothe my headache but it doesn't help in anyway.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

My classmates are chanting, all gathered at the small open space that's at the back of the class.

Are these people okay?

On a normal day, I would never involve myself in any fight. Heck, I'll be encouraging it, in my mind though. But I can't do that today. Maybe it's the short hours of sleep I've been getting recently that's messing up my brain or I'm just not in the mood for immature behaviors.

Either way, I just want everyone to shut the hell up.

I stand up from my chair and walk down to the back of the class. I push everyone that's standing on my way rudely, without apologizing.

When I get to the scene of the fight, I see one of my class boys, Ebuka, in a fist fight with a student from another class.

"Are you guys okay?" I simply ask. Not shout, not yell, not command. But the level of authority in my voice makes the classroom go silent. The two guys fighting, take a halt.

"I'm not even concerned about what brought about the fight. But are you two so retarded and childish that you would stoop so low to hand-to-hand combat just to resolve a conflict? You guys disgust me!" I spit out, and they pull apart from each other. The crowd starts to disperse slowly.

"And you all!" I call out, referring to the people watching the fight that I just broke apart.

"You guys find such barbaric behavior entertaining. You come to school to learn, not for anything else but still, you guys choose to deviate from such a simple task. I'm sure 90% of you people haven't even started on any of the assignments given this week but watching a fight is a more useful way to spend your time, right? You all should be ashamed of yourselves!" I hiss out in my lecture voice, folding my arms, and their faces fall.

The two fighters take a rest, and the foreigner leaves the class, along with all of his comrades. My classmates go back to their seats, some of them hypocritically carry their books to study while some gossip about me in hushed whispers, thinking that I can't hear them. But I can, I always do, and I know that they have nothing good to say about me. So I don't waste my breath on them, instead I ignore their useless chatter about me and return back to my seat.

"How do you do that?" My seat partner, Boluwatife, asks me the second I drop down on our chair.

I raise one of my eyebrows in confusion at her question.

"You hold so much authority when you speak and everyone listens to you," she says, staring at me with awe.

I'm tempted to tell her that it's because I have self-respect unlike everyone else but my humble side punches the narcissist side of me.