Kharise is not a lover. The very thought of it is repulsive to her.
Mostly because she has had her heart broken in such a manner that seems irreparable.
Living in a world where her father shows her the littlest love known to mankind and her best fr...
Song for this chapter- When I grow up by NF, Eminem, Logic, Joyner Lucas
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"As your assignment this week, you all will be writing an essay of not less than 2000 words on one of these topics." It's Monday morning and our English teacher, Mrs Adams just laid on us what would be to most people the most depressing news of the day.
I'm actually good at essays so I'm feeling pretty great.
Until she writes the topics on the board.
"You gotta be kidding me." "What the fuck?" "I'm so not doing it." These are the responses from most of the students in my class while my mouth just hangs open.
1. The Benefits Of Being Part Of A Happy Family.
2. My Career Ambition In Life.
First of all, my parents are workaholics and when ever they decide to be around, they either ground me for being home late, or my dad quarrels with me, or they both argue over something.
So I'm not writing the first essay.
Now for the second essay. This school has this thing where if you write a bad essay or a really good one. They email it to your parents so they can see your performance.
My essays always get sent to my parents. I wonder what my dad would say when he sees a 2000-word declaration of my love for all things rap and my decision to become a big time rapper in future.
"This is a tough one, girl." Layla says behind me, as if reading my thoughts.
"I know. And I definitely can't write the first one." I complain, turning in my seat to face her.
"Yup. And you can't write the second one either."
"I think I'll just not do it." I conclude, just when Mrs Adams says, "This essay will make up 60% of your grade so make sure you turn it in by the end of the week."
"Or not." I sink back into my chair racking my brain.
"Well you can be- uhm- a lawyer. I mean you got the skills, you're great at English, you always argue till you get your way. I think you'd be pretty successful."
I chuckle, thinking over it. "I guess."
I try to picture myself in a court, arguing a case, strutting around trying to make a point. I can do that.
I will do that.
I will be a lawyer.
"Even if I do become a lawyer, what field would I specialise in?" I ask Layla, who was now doodling on the corner of her book.
The teacher is now handing out scripts to everyone. "I don't know, think about it." She answers collecting a script. I collect my own, closing my eyes and praying that somehow, the topics have changed.
