The following morning, Zara found herself at the center of attention once again. Whispers trailed her down the hallways as she made her way to her locker. She could feel eyes on her, like needles prickling at her back.
She sighed, glancing at Mia, who walked beside her with a bounce in her step. "Why is everyone staring at me again? Is it because I didn't bring pizza to lunch yesterday?"
Mia grinned. "You'd be surprised how many people have never met someone who's lived in Africa. They think you wrestled lions or something."
Zara stopped in her tracks, staring at Mia in disbelief. "You're joking."
Mia shrugged. "You'd be amazed at the dumb questions Americans ask. You should've heard Jessica last year when she met an exchange student from Brazil. She thought the Amazon rainforest was his backyard."
The thought was so absurd that Zara couldn't help but laugh. It felt good, even if the stares and whispers still bothered her.
Zara's first real confrontation with Jessica happened during gym class. The lesson of the day: basketball.
Mia and Zara ended up on the same team, while Jessica, naturally, captained the opposing one. From the moment the game started, it was clear Jessica wasn't just playing to win—she was playing to humiliate.
"Try to keep up, newbie!" Jessica sneered as she dribbled past Zara with ease, scoring another point for her team.
Zara clenched her jaw, frustration bubbling under the surface. Back in Nigeria, she had been decent at sports—not great, but definitely not the disaster she felt like now. The rules seemed different here, faster, more aggressive.
"Shake it off," Mia said, patting Zara's shoulder. "She's just trying to get under your skin."
Zara took a deep breath and nodded, determined to keep her cool.
But Jessica wasn't done. During the next play, she "accidentally" elbowed Zara in the ribs as she went for the ball.
"Oops," Jessica said with a fake smile.
Zara's vision blurred with anger. She wanted to say something, to yell, but her voice caught in her throat. Would speaking up make her look weak? Or worse—like she couldn't handle herself?
She felt everyone watching again, waiting to see how she'd react.
At lunch, Zara sat with Mia and a few other classmates. The group was friendly enough, but the conversation kept circling back to her.
"What was it like growing up in Nigeria?" one girl asked, her tone curious but slightly condescending. "Did you guys, like, have Wi-Fi?"
Mia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Rachel? Wi-Fi exists everywhere."
Zara forced a polite smile. "Yeah, we had Wi-Fi. And cell phones. And electricity."
"Oh, cool," Rachel said, as if Zara had just revealed a groundbreaking secret.
The conversation shifted, but Zara couldn't shake the feeling of being an exhibit in a zoo. No matter how nice everyone seemed, she still felt like an outsider.
The day ended on a slightly better note during English class. The teacher, Mrs. Callahan, assigned a group project on world literature, pairing Zara with Mia, a quiet boy named Sam, and—of all people—Jessica.
The tension was palpable as they sat together, discussing their assignment.
Jessica smirked. "So, Zara, I guess you can tell us all about African folk tales or whatever. That'll be your part."
Zara met her gaze, refusing to back down. "Actually, I was thinking of focusing on Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart. It's a classic. Have you heard of it?"
Jessica blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Uh, no."
"Then maybe you should read it," Zara said, her tone even.
Mia stifled a laugh, and even Sam looked impressed.
For the first time all day, Zara felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe she didn't have everything figured out yet, but she wasn't going to let people like Jessica walk all over her.
Later that evening, as Zara worked on her English project in her room, she noticed something strange. One of the books Ryan had given her father—a thick, leather-bound volume she hadn't paid much attention to before—was sitting open on her desk.
She hadn't touched it.
Her pulse quickened as she flipped through the pages. Tucked inside was a small, folded piece of paper.
Unfolding it, she found a set of coordinates.
Zara stared at the numbers, her heart pounding.
What had her father been hiding?