CRACK.

Chapter 7

Prissy.

It was the beginning of a new term in a new class. I was extremely nervous, anxious.

I'd be returning to a place I do not find comfortable in the slightest. Where I'm taunted, bullied...

The thought of returning back to school had me up the whole night, turning this way and that, trying to get some sleep. Even if it was just for thirty minutes.

I let out a loud groan, sitting up on my bed.

The only thing that made any of these any better was that I'd be seeing him a little more this term. Though, we don't talk, I was very fine with admiring him from afar.

It's been three damn years since I've had this big crush on him, but not once had he even looked in my direction.

Sigh.

~~~

School is resuming today and the stress. I was already dreading today. But, I'm excited because I get see my crush and my best friend, the queen bee herself; Naomi Anamza.

Not that I'm jealous of her or anything, I just wish to be like her, her body, her confidence. She is just my role model.

I'm called the flat best friend. I don't have big ass or breast.

Bodyshamming, is something I'm supposed to be used to by now, but I'm not. Since my Jss1, when I transferred newly to Tollywood, it's being crazy.

I walked out of the bathroom, with my towel hanged loosely above my flat chest. I slowly walk to where my school uniform is hunged and dress's quickly.

~~~
"Joy! Come downstairs for prayers." My mom shouted from downstairs.

"I'm coming, ma." I shouted back.

I slowly zip my skirt, and I bend down to grab my socks and shoes. After wearing them, I walk to my vanity mirror to get my face done. I start by gently removing my bonette, letting my freshly made braids fall over my shoulder.

I pick my scrunchie and pack my hair up, after laying my edges to my satisfaction. I grab my makeup bag and dab some lipgloss on my lips.

"Joy! I'm coming upstairs if you don't come down now." My mother shouted again, did i mention that my mother is annoying? No, I didn't. Well, now you know.

"I'm coming, ma." I reply, I grab my sweater and my phone, my black bag and run out of the room.

Mounting the steps slowly, I hear the murmurs of prayers and my father's voice leading the sermon. I immediately drop my bag and phone on the table and run towards the parlor.

Good morning, Jesus!

Good morning, lord!

I Know you come from heaven above.

Good morning, master Jesus, good morning lord!

We kept singing, untill my father cleared his throat and we stopped to stare at him.

He began the sermon and started talking about our lives as Christian's and how it should reflect.

I zoned out the minute he started talking about pleasing others through Christ.

I love God, I mean who doesn't, but hearing my dad preach about God, it disgusts me.

My father; Ayomide Ayodele is a hypocrite, a big one! He pretends to be what he's not. He physically abuse my mom, but they try to hide, they think I don't know and here he is preaching about God. Please, don't bore me out.