I concede that for my final year of high school I'd wished to leave in a blaze of glory. I wanted to be recognized as the best of the best, the cream of the crop. I hoped to make an impression that would make the world notice me. I wanted to do something special that I would be remembered by for the rest of my life. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew I wanted it to be big. I wanted others to say: "Wow, Tamina, you are the greatest, most beautiful, most cunning girl to ever exist!" Though first, I needed to ensure I passed my grades for my final year of high school.
Our second month of final year, February, was upon us. The month of love and breakup and cheating and in-betweens. I could not lie to myself; I was not interested in romance one bit. I was far more concerned for my final examinations; it was rearing its head at me. The end of the year was so far away, but I prepared myself, studying the year's course in the span of a month. I knew that I was going to dedicate my entire soul to ensuring I passed with flying colours. I inspected my school uniform as I readied myself for another weekday. The plain-white golf tee with blue chino-pants never flattered me, but I put up with it. I remembered the time the girl's council and I had petitioned to the school board to allow for all girls to wear long pants like the boys in the school. I thought it to be unfair that we only could wear skirts and freeze our chops off during the winter season. So, we fought back against school regulation, we fought with unwavering might. Sitting out lectures, protesting as teachers arrived in the school gates, holding radio interviews. Eventually, the school had been forced to concede, after the controversy hit the local news in our small town. We won, and celebrated our victory by continuing to wear skirts, it was too hot to wear those dreadful pants in the summertime. I thought that the boys should demonstrate next, to fight to wear skirts in summer. I was proud of every single girl (and boy) that stood by me three years ago. But three years was forever ago for a teenager such as myself, I never had done something that outstanding since. My name faded from memory outside of the school. Older citizens only knew me as the "pants girl" eventually - which ticked me off immensely. I was thirsty for another "big" moment, to shine a final time before the end of my school career. I was elected as the head representative for our school student council, sure, but I wanted more.
"You're going to be late, Tamina!" My mother yelled outside my room.
My daydreaming came to a sudden halt as my mother yelled for me. A bystander would call her a "panic-mechanic" by the way she panicked and fretted over everything to the smallest detail. She hated tardiness with a passion, she frequently lectured me that I should always be five minutes early for any and every sort of occasion, no matter the importance. As she exclaimed like a poet: "We must beat time at its own pace," which made no sense to me.
"Nearly done," I replied to her as I stuffed the last of my cereal down my oesophagus at the kitchen table.
I hurriedly put my school blazer on as I rushed into the car-garage. My mother had the look of impatience plastered on her face. I knew that she always rushed off in the mornings, and that I took my time every morning. I wished there was a day or two where she would just 'relax'. But that was never going to be her forte in life.
"We are going to be late," She said to me as she texted away on her cell phone.
"We are an hour early, how is that late, mother-dearest?" I replied as I sat myself in the passenger seat.
"We must beat-" She continued.
"Yes, yes. Let's just go," I said, cutting off her famous quote.
Our daily commute to school wasn't a trek, I could have easily walked to school in ten to fifteen minutes. But my mother was afraid for my safety. Her prejudice would show occasionally, ever since we had moved to South Africa, she'd forbidden me from going out of the house after nine o' clock. I understood her fears, a woman out at night was a dangerous affair. But I reminded her that we lived in a high-to-middle-income residential zone, and that I attended a private school. The most danger we would face were the local bullies and old-perverted men. There would be little to no chance of anything ever happening to me. The car ride was silent as we listened intently to the local news on the radio:
"The campaign against bullying and cyber-bullying still is at the forefront today..." The reporter began.
My mother turned the volume of the radio down at the topic, but I was fully invested in listening to the report.
"Why'd you turn it down?" I asked my mother.
"I don't like listening to this, it puts me in a sad mood," She responded.
"Yes, but it is an important issue, mom."
I could hear her sigh, though she agreed with me silently. She turned the volume of the radio louder again so that I could listen:
"In the province alone, over forty-percent of students reported on our survey that they have experienced bullying before. They also explicitly remarked that numerous schools do not pay attention to the bullying within their own walls. How can we be assured our children can go to school in a safe environment if they are harassed everyday?".
My mother once again muted the volume of the radio.
"Hey, mom..." I began.
"Sorry to interrupt sweetie, but did you speak to your brother?" She asked.
"Not today no, why?" I asked.
"He said he'd be home last night, but he wasn't in his room this morning."
"He's probably at Hayley's house," I suggested, "They did go out together for dinner at that sushi place."
"Sometimes he forgets he's a Marshe too," She remarked.
"Yes, mother."
I forget to mention that we are part of a very notorious family in the country, my uncles ran the biggest bank in the country. Anything that would tarnish our family name was punished with an iron fist in my mother's house. My mother wasn't even related to that side of the family, but she respected the Marshe name like we were political figures (in some sense we were, we'd influenced political decisions of the country). My mom was weird like that, anything she disapproved of from my brother and I, she'd say, "He forgets he's a Marshe," or "Did you forget you're Marshe?" And she would say it in the most random circumstances that doesn't even have to do with our family name. That was one of her funny quirks I admired about my mom.
I forget to mention I have a brother too, Bruce Marshe. But he's a pain in our backsides, so I like to forget about him. My brother was a little bit... lazy, as one would say upon meeting him. My mom told me that he dropped out of high school because his attendance was almost zero. I doubted the truth of that since he used to ride with us to school every day. I could never truly know, since Bruce and I had attended different schools before he dropped out. I decided to rather recluse my questions about him; if he wanted to leave school uncompleted, then let him. He was nineteen, an adult, he could make his own choices and suffer his own consequences. I on the other hand, was privileged enough to earn a scholarship through my high grades and (numerous) achievements. My school scouted me as I left the lower grades of my previous school, they wanted me to join their ranks to boost their own merits as the "best school in South Africa".
"What time are you done tonight, mom?" I asked.
"I have a late night tonight, probably around ten I'll be home," She said with a sigh.
"Same B.S. with the boss?"
"Stop with the cursing. But yes, same B.S."
She worked as an accountant at some law firm and worked long-hours. She was a single mother looking after two kids, so I understood her reason for being absent most of the week. It left me to be the responsible one to cook for us during the evenings, Bruce couldn't be dammed to do a single chore for the house. I cooked, cleaned and did the washing for the house, I didn't dislike it, per say, I just wished Bruce would do something to lighten my load. I made sure to always be home early enough to cook for the family, though I still had my obligations after preparing dinner, such as my music practice and homework.
Well, those were my obligations, before I met him.
"Good morning, madame president," A voice spoke behind me as I walked into the school.
"Good morning, Sean." I replied. I could see a smirk creep on his face as I greeted my fellow pupil and student councillor.
"Our meeting with the principle starts in five minutes, better hurry," He urged me.
"Why, we just had a meeting yesterday. I'm tired of seeing that old-man's face every day."
"He's my father, stop calling him old."
"I know, but he's still old, and annoying."
"Nice to see you're still the same bitchy girl in the morning."
"I'm a realist. And don't call a woman a bitch, you'll never get a girlfriend with that mouth."
Sean, the massively built boy with golden-brown hair and blue eyes. A good-looker in the eyes of the dumbfounded and romantics. Sure, in my eyes he was very handsome, but he for sure wasn't my type. He was the vice to my presidency of the school. I had barely inched my way to victory over him by a handful of votes, though a win is a win. He was also the captain of our school's rugby team, and leader of the Learner-engagement club. The Learner-engagement club that he and I founded sum four years prior. We were still the only members of our club, since our activities included helping students with needs and we engaged in after-school voluntary services. Not many students wanted to devote their precious time picking up trash or feeding the needy. It was not appealing to most, but I saw immense value in the club. We were making small differences in and around our community, I took pride in it. Sean would constantly receive phone numbers from women wherever we went. Sean and I walked into the head-office for our weekly meeting with the principle-father, Mr Greene.
"You should learn to speak with a quieter tone, Miss Marshe. I could hear your tasteful remarks about my age outside," Mr Greene said as we approached him.
"It was said in love and care, principal Greene. You should try de-aging cream; I hear they work wonders for men in your age-category," I replied.
"And you should try to be more ladylike, you will never get a boyfriend with that mouth of yours," He said with a chuckle.
"Like father, like son," I jested.
Our conversation was the same-old from the week before, discussing upcoming school events and if any issues had arisen. We then tackled the topic at hand- the upcoming valentine's event. Friday was close approaching, with only four days to prep for the event, we had our hands full. Luckily the rest of the student-helpers and the teachers lent their bodies for us to use as we wished. My first command was going to have them set up the decorations in the main hall. When our meeting was over, he thanked Sean and I for our time, and we made our way out the door. As I took my first step out of his office, he called to me:
"Miss Marshe, I'd like to have a quick word with you, before you go," He spoke.
"Anything for the boss," I remarked.
Sean told me not to be late for class as he left me to the wolf. I clicked my tongue as he closed the door behind him. I sat down with Mr Greene again; I wondered what he'd wanted to ask me without his son inside. I prayed it was not a request to have Sean be my partner for the valentine's ball. But, the greying-haired man in his late-thirties twiddled his thumbs. I noticed he was attempting to muster up the courage to ask me something else in particular.
"What is it, sir?" I asked.
"I need your help," He replied.
"With what? Your car giving trouble again?"
"No, no. You adjusted my clutch perfectly last time; you are a lifesaver miss Marshe."
"Romance troubles?"
"It is something else, with another student."
"It is inappropriate to have a romantic relationship with a student, Mr Greene."
He did not appreciate my joke, and he looked at me with a fierce eye. He wanted me to be serious for the moment.
"Stop with the jokes for just a minute," He retorted.
"Apologies, sir."
He took a breather, then spoke:
"I need your help with a student."
"Another student, sir? Do you need me to tutor someone again?"
"No, this is something that needs...delicacy."
"I'm always willing to help a fellow pupil."
I was intrigued, my brain fired off on all twelve cylinders, the horses riled up in their saddles. We sat for twenty minutes in his office as he discussed the issue with me. My ears stood straight like a hound.After listening, I had questions that needed answers, though I knew I could ask just one:
"But why me, a girl? Shouldn't Sean handle this?"
"No, I'm afraid a male student would trigger him. I believe a female student would be the best course of action, for now, at least," He replied.
I contemplated his request, perhaps it would be the best action. Inside, I knew I couldn't deny the request. My brain yelled at me to accept the request.
And so, I did.
I sat down in my first class next to Sean, Physics class so early in the morning was not my favourite. Sean and I shared almost all our classes together, besides advanced mathematics class. I could see him eyeing the expressions on my face to find a sort of indication as to what transpired with his father. I paid no attention to his inquisitiveness and dove straight into my books as the first teacher arrived for our Physics class to begin. I could feel that man nudge me ever so annoyingly as our teacher went through her notes for us. I tried my hardest to pay him no mind, but he was crawling on my nerves. Then, he flicked my ear, the sharp pain caused me to grab his calf with my left hand, and I squeezed. He yelped like a puppy-dog, and our teacher lost focus during her lecture.
"Sean, what is the matter?" The teacher asked.
"Apologies ma'am, I have a leg-cramp." He squealed as he rubbed his calf.
Our teacher and the rest of the class chuckled as they went back to their lesson. I gave a piercing look at Sean.
"Hey, you're the one who hurt me." He whispered.
"Don't you have something better to do than just annoying me?" I replied.
"Just tell me, what did you two talk about?"
"He wants me to date you," I winked at him.
"So funny, you're hilarious."
"I know right? I should be a comedian."
"Why wasn't I involved? I'm the vice-president."
"Exactly, Vice-president. Besides, it's a task that only a woman can handle."
"A woman? Where? You?" He snortingly remarked.
I had had enough of my best-friend's unflattering jokes, and I squeezed his calf again with the mighty grip of my nails. Truth be told, I could not disclose what was told to me. Principal Greene trusted me to keep the information to myself. I intended to keep it that way.
"You can't tell me?" Sean asked again. I shook my head.
"I'm so sorry, honey-pie," I replied.
"When do you start with it? This request?"
"Your dad asked me to go after school today."
I could see Sean's inner mechanisms rile and fire on all cylinders. He was trying to figure out the request.
"It's serious, isn't it?" He asked me.
All I could do in that moment was nod. It was extremely serious. I could not use my humour-coping mechanisms to undermine the seriousness of it.