I walked into the study centre, determined to do the three hours of studying that I had planned. There were lots of empty desks to choose from; it was the start of the weekend. People were out having fun and I was stuck alone with my books. I should also be in the sun enjoying what was left of the summer, I thought grumpily. A hot, windless day was rare weather in PE and I should have been out there under the blue sky, taking full advantage. But not me, I had to study. It was now or never.

You’re procrastinating. Get on with it. Open your books. Put your head down and work! I scolded myself as I made my second trip around the room looking for the perfect place to sit. I finally settled on a spot on the floor and took out my textbooks, tutorial book and my exercise pad.

There, sticking out of my textbook, in big red ink, was the mark that made me come here in the first place. I pulled the page out and stared at it. 48%. How pathetic. We had received the marks earlier in the week and mine were not something to be proud of.

“Yhu, three years, and usana lwam will be an engineer.” My mother’s voice, filled with pride, echoed in my head. But these results were not what engineers were made of. Eighty-five per cent, like Sindi had got – that’s what makes mothers proud. I could picture my mother’s disappointed face, her shaking her head at me. Part of me wanted to tear up the paper and throw it away. Another part of me wanted to forge that ‘48’ to become ‘88’, or even ‘78’.

“What happened?” Sindi had asked after we got our tests back. I couldn’t answer her. It wasn’t as if I didn’t study or that I didn’t understand the work. No, the problem was that I hated the course, and how do you flourish in something that you detest?

“I don’t know,” I had answered.

“Ngxakiyakho, your problem, is you don’t focus. You have the attention span of a five-year-old,” Sindi told me. She was right. And as proof, here I was in the study centre, my mind everywhere but on my studies.

I put the test paper down and started to work.

V = I.R

That’s not hard, I thought. I started doing some exercises from the tutorial handbook. This stuff was so easy that I could do it with my eyes closed. It must have been so easy for Sindi too. That’s why she got top marks.

“This is the beginning, the easy stuff,” Sindi had said as we walked out of class. “Sort your head out, or else you’ll flunk this term. You didn’t do so great last term either.”

I wonder how she did it, I thought to myself, again. Did she spend nights just reading and practising, going over the tutorials, like we were told to? I could still see their faces, everyone who had gathered around her to congratulate her and see the marks for themselves, as if looking at the big ‘85%’ marked in red would make them just as smart.

And then there was Marius. Smart and sexy Mr Smit, with a score of ‘92%’. He had waltzed over to our table to congratulate Sindi, bumping me rudely as he leaned over to shake her hand. After all, this was a man’s field and to have a woman excelling was just something to behold. The way Sindi blushed, with stars in her eyes, made me want to puke. Or was it the way he looked at me as he shook her hand that annoyed me? Almost as if saying: “Take notes, dummy.” Either way, they could be the perfect match. She was the one who kept wanting to be friends with him, since last semester. I just found him childish.

I looked out of the window of the study centre. It was still a beautiful sunny day out there. Sigh. I did the last exercise in my textbook and got it right. As a reward, I took out my magazine to have a break and read about Will Smith’s divorce, a celebrity’s liposuction, and the trending styles. Then, despite myself, I was hooked on the crossword.

Before I knew it, my alarm went off, telling me that my three hours were up. Feeling helpless and defeated, I put the books in my bag and left.

Going back to res now would mean sitting in an empty room all on my own. How depressing was that? I decided to take a stroll instead, and walked down the main road, heading away from the university grounds towards the beach. The further I walked, the better I felt. I had stopped dwelling on my misery and was now starting to enjoy the soft breeze that blew on my face. This day might just turn out fine after all, I thought as I reached the beach front.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Taking it out, I saw that it was Sindi calling. I was in no mood to talk, so I ignored it. She called again and this time too, the call went unanswered.

What the hell does she want? I was getting annoyed. She knew I had gone to study, it was her own damn bright idea. The phone buzzed again and this time I yanked it out of my pocket, ready to give her a piece of my mind. Lucky her, it was just a text:

Whr u @? Get ready – we going dancing!

Any other day I would’ve jumped at the offer. But somehow this day I wasn’t up to it. I didn’t want to see the usual crowd and chat about the same old, same old. I wanted to be alone. I pictured them out, having fun, dancing. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment. My friend, my best friend of eight months, had done well and I couldn’t be happy for her.

***

Tell us: Have you ever been in Sino’s situation? How hard is it to sacrifice and study while your friends are out partying?