Brynnica Academy

•𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍•

“Goal!!” The crowd screamed, and the boys ran across the field, taking off their jerseys and flinging them to the crowd.

A jersey flew into Wunmi’s arms, and she raised the shirt to see the number 9 boldly written on it. DARYL, NUMBER 9. My eyes glanced at Nonso, who smirked, staring at his jersey in Wunmi’s hand.

She turned the jersey over, wearing it as Nonso just chuckled, running back to his fellow teammates. “EW.” I turned to Wunmi, who shook her head, staring at the jersey on her.

“What?”

“The jersey was meant for you to catch. Now I'm wearing it, and it feels a bit weird.” She mumbled, staring at the jersey on her with a frown.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I stared at my Samsung S24 Ultra; the time read 12:59 pm. “It's your first time catching a jersey. Besides, I've spent my life catching all my brother’s jerseys at his games that girls give me the death stare.” She laughed at my words.

“And, if I'm wrong about anything, I 𝑺𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 know Nonso has a perfect aim. That jersey was meant for 𝒚𝒐𝒖.” The bell rang, signifying break over, and I patted Wunmi, walking down to the field with towels in my hands.

I tossed to every player, including my brother, then I handed Demola his. “Here's yours; I froze it, like you requested.”

He hummed, sitting on the bench and paying attention to his trainers. “Could you help me towel my face? My hands are kind of busy.”

I picked the cold towel, sitting down and dabbing his face. “Treasure, you're not doing it properly.” Before I could react, he pulled me down, and I sat on his lap, my eyes widened in surprise.

“Please do it properly; my skin is very sensitive.” I was stunned; he returned to his shoes, locking my legs so I couldn't get up. I shakily dabbed his face until it was dry, then I felt another strong hand pull me from Demola’s hold.

“Don't touch my sister like that.” Michael said, punching him playfully on the elbow. “I didn't do anything.” Demola chuckled, making me throw the towel on his face.

“Idiot.” I called, walking out of the field. “Your tights are on display!” He yelled at me, making me pull her skirt down, running out of the field.

🇨 🇭 🇪 🇷 🇮 🇸 🇭 ’🇸  🇵 🇴 🇻 

•𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍•

“And that’s how the Doppler effect was named after the Austrian Physicist Christian Doppler in 1842.”

The bell rang, and the teacher left the class immediately. I closed my physics note and textbook, putting them in my Chanel school bag.

“Damn, Cher, is that the limited edition Chanel bag? I heard only three were produced. So you have the third one!” Moyosola Coker, my friend, asked, staring at my gray Chanel bag.

“Yeah.. perks of being a Chanel model.” I said with pride. It was time for the evening meal, and I packed my bag as Moyo and I chatted, walking out of the classroom and into the dining hall.

I was the last child of my parents, so I always had last-born privileges. My chest bumped into another girl as Moyo held me, saving me from a fall.

“I’m sorry; I wasn't watching where I was going.” Eyes were staring at us, and I waved the girl away, stabilizing myself.

“It's fi-” I stared at her back to see she was holding the exact same limited Chanel bag I was carrying. “Cherish, isn't this bag a limited edition?” Moyo asked, pointing at the girl's bag.

I stared at her; I had never seen her in any of my Parents' fundraisers or any of Chanel galas. My eyes glanced at her name tag pinned on her left breast pocket. Adebayo Adedoiyin.

Her name didn't ring a bell.

“How do you have that bag?” Moyo asked for me. By this time, everyone in the dining hall was already focused on us. I could feel a headache coming up.

“This is a limited Chanel bag with only three copies in the world. Two belong to famous celebrities in America, and one belongs to-”

“Me! Mine is the third copy. Hers is the 𝑭𝑨𝑲𝑬!” The crowd gasped.

What the heck?

Is she trying to ruin my image?

Immediately Moyo grabbed the bag from Doyin’s hand and placed it on a table, then she took mine and placed it beside it.

Mine was a deeper gray while Doyin’s was looking washed out. The Chanel logo on my bag was two Cs opposing each other, but Doyin's Cs were facing the same direction.

Moyo emptied the bag, and a phone I didn't recognize fell out of Doyin’s bag. Moyo scoffed, “Seriously, an Infinix? A low-budget one!” Then something caught my eye in her stuff. I picked the paper, FEES CLEARANCE, and below it was boldly written; all cleared, on 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑.

With fury, I pulled her by her hair as she screamed. “Look at you, a cheap 𝒈𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 girl on scholarship telling me, a Chanel model, that I'm carrying a fake bag.” Moyo came back with a lighter that she must have borrowed from the kitchen.

“Trash like you was the reason I left my former school; you do not know your place.” I slapped her hard, tossing her onto an empty table. I grabbed the lighter from Moyo, picking up the fake bag and setting it on fire.

The crowd gasped as Doyin cried, “No.. please, that cost me thirty thousand naira.”

“A bag worth ten thousand dollars? What a classless witch.” I tossed the burning bag to her as she screamed, her skirt catching fire as she ran. She would be expecting the teachers to come save her; they know better than to interfere, except they didn't want to lose their jobs. How dare she try to ruin my image?

Water splashed on her body as I stared to see Treasure Overland with an angry look etched on her face. She walked angrily to me, gripping my collar as I stared into her hazel eyes that held fury.

“Have you no class?”

“She started it.” I defended myself, lowering my gaze. Her grip on my collar loosened as she rushed back to Doyin. I stared at where her skirt burnt, a huge burnt mark laced on her fair thighs, branded for life. Treasure helped her up, with Precious by her side while Wunmi and Favour packed her belongings.

At least that would teach her to know her place.

I walked out with Moyosola beside me. What they didn't teach these unfortunate people is that the world of the rich is 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍, and you should be ready to 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏.