Chapter Eight – Hard Tests and Tough Choices

I have talked only so briefly about academics that you might think it almost inconsequential, but remember, reader, the best and only way to survive uni is to make sure that amidst the chaos of life, you still show up for your books.

We had a test coming up based on one of the toughest courses that semester and I was more than convinced that my lecturer was after my life. I was so overwhelmed with trying to study. It’s moments like this where I fancy marrying a rich old man and quitting school.

Our lecturer, Mr. Mintah came into class that Monday morning and we expressed our concerns and frustrations. Mr. Mintah looked like he understood and gave us three topics to focus on. We were over the moon.

Sly, one of my seniors advised that I should still cover all the topics because you can never trust a lecturer. It’s not that I didn’t want to listen but I had a lot of things on my mind. By the time I got round to studying I barely had enough time to finish the three topics.

This is why you should also mind your business. I was out here trying to help Lara fight her battles and then also dealing with Farida’s insecurities. I can never understand some women. If you have a problem with your boyfriend, pester him. Frustrate him. He’s the one who made a commitment to you and he’s the one breaking that commitment. But no. You instead choose to torture the other girl trying to mind her business. In this case, I wasn’t even the other girl.

The day before the paper, I had to soak my feet in water while studying and drink three cups of coffee because there was no way I could afford to fail this paper. It was worth 30 marks and I was on my ‘Project First Class’ agenda. Best believe I dropped that after the first semester.

I walked into the exam hall exhausted and tired after cramming, no chewing, all the information into my head. So fragile was my disposition that if you shook me, all the information would fall out of my head. I walked straight with my buttocks tucked in. The least movement could destabilize me.

The information was stacked and ready to be poured out. Start work was announced and we flipped the papers. Reader, I let out a gasp that shocked me. My hand flew to my mouth as I looked around. There were shouts of shock and exclamation all over the room. Some people laughed; not because the paper was good but because they knew they were about to fail.

To my left, I saw Boateng scratching his head in confusion. He looked so silly. Carl was in front so I couldn’t see his face but I saw Lara chuckling to my right. We made brief eye contact before turning back to our papers.

I knew how to answer only one question out of the ten questions on the paper and I wasn’t even sure of my answer. I was hot and I was cold. My pen was suddenly too wet and after cleaning it, it was too dry.

Mr. Mintah walked into the exam room, smiling from ear to ear. What a devil! He moved in between desks checking on our work. “How’s it going?” he asked. The whole room was in an uproar and he laughed before quieting as down.

Reader, unless your lecturer has a proven track record of keeping to his topics, never trust them. Never put your future on the line like that because 90% of lecturers want you to fail. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. You would think the better your students do, the more it shows you are good at your job. Not lecturers though. They thrive off student trauma.

I can’t say what I wrote on the paper but when I got to the room, I slept for five continuous hours. What woke me up was a knock on my door. It was Boateng. He was concerned that even though I had forgiven him, I was not really speaking to him like before.

I told him that he couldn’t expect us to be immediate besties after what happened and that I needed time. I also told him that his girlfriend threatened me to stay away from him if I didn’t want trouble.

“She said that?” Boateng asked in shock. “Yes” I replied. He didn’t stay long after that and made some excuse that he had to go and see someone but in truth he was headed straight for Farida’s room.

He knocked on the door a bit more violently than he intended to.

She opened the door and he barged in.

‘Did you tell Araba to stay away from me?” he asked. Farida stuttered before getting angry herself.

“Yes, and what about it?” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

“She’s my best friend. Why would you ask her to do that?”

“Because, she clearly has feelings for you and there is no such thing as boys and girls being best friends. I’m not comfortable with your relationship.”

“Farida, don’t be ridiculous. Araba and I have been friends for four years…”

“Yes! In that time, she has never dated anyone. You treat her like an egg and she constantly hovers around you. Are you blind or stupid?”

“Farida, I’m warning you. Leave her alone.”

Farida went on full African mother mode. She clapped her hands together in disbelief. “Can you imagine? Instead of apologizing for treating your supposed best friend better than me, your girlfriend, you are threatening me. Boateng, are you serious?”.

Boateng was quiet.

“You know what? I don’t have the energy for this again. She has always been a problem and I can’t take it anymore. So, choose.”

Boateng was too stunned to speak. “What?” he asked as though she had spoken gibberish the first time.

“You heard me. I said choose. It’s either me or Araba.”

The plot thickens.