I saw her at the tuck shop yesterday. Waved at her, but instead of returning the gesture, she laughed at me, as well as her group of friends. It was stupid of me I know, I should have approached her like any other normal guy. Oh before I forget, last week I wrote her a love letter. It was Tsholo’s idea, my best friend. But instead of reading it, she tore it into little pieces and threw it. Oh, and last month I helped her at KwaMakhize cash and carry. She didn’t have enough money to settle her mom’s debt. Not that I want sympathy by raising that. I was just saying.
Being the most beautiful girl in the entire of Ntuzuma, she’s really ill-mannered. Or maybe that’s because part of me wanted her to be grateful for that little help I offered. Or better yet, start noticing me at least. But none of that happened. In fact, she is acting as if our little accident never happened. Like I was imagining myself helping the most popular girl in the hood and now suddenly want her to notice me. Or maybe I was imagining things.
Maybe the glances I stole of her at every chance I get implanted crazy imaginations in my mind. Maybe I’m going insane. Not that I complain if I’m going crazy over her. I mean, she’s beautiful and smart. And every guy in the school would sell all their organs just to be with her. Maybe that guy is only me. But I’m sure you get the point.
Ikhwezi is beautiful in more ways I can explain to you. Her brown hazel eyes captivate my soul every single time she looks in my direction. Her beautiful caramel skin matches the blue, navy and white uniform of ours perfectly. Especially on sunny November days. Her long fair legs look good on that sky blue skirt of hers. Her little curves and flat tummy she sometimes gives us a glimpse of on her tight fitting grey pants suit her beautifully. She’s a pure goddess. No wonder some girls get jealous of her, I would too. Knowing that I could get any man I want by just flashing my beautiful smile paired with full dimples.
You should see how guys throw themselves at her, literally. They be throwing the cash and bling at her. But surprisingly never cave to anyone of them, not any I know of anyways.
She is the reason I enjoy my Maths and English class. I get to stare at her as she dances her pen to the rhythm of her thinking process. Did I tell you she’s smart too? She’s part of the top 5 best maths students. Also a very great athlete. I’m not athletic, or any where close. I don’t even like sport, at all. That is evident in my Jean size. But I can never be the best in everything, right? Firstly, I’m the best student Ntuzuma high has ever had, a good debater and all-around Mr nice-guy. What more do I need? But Ikhwezi makes me want to learn more about sport. Maybe ‘learn’ may not be the right word, but I actually do. That’s why I never miss a match whenever she’s playing locally. I’m probably her number one fan.
Did I tell you we had oral assessments in the English class? Yeah, and I was so anxious for Ikhwezi’s turn to make a speech. I was not really looking forward to her speech but her voice. It’s so angelic and calming. It makes me want to spend every last cent I have on her. Makes me imagine our lives together. I did not want her to stop speaking. Whatever she said always makes sense. Even the environmental thingy she just discussed. I had no choice but ask stupid questions just so she could keep going. Keeps talking. And luckily Mr Bhengu gave me the platform to do just that. He believed my questions gave me and my classmates “a deeper understanding on the matter” and hopefully be the change she urged us to be.
But all that was short-lived. An hour later I had to face my annoying classmates in the physics class and the rest of the day. We had a maths test in the afternoon. So people were less noisy and concentrated on their sums. Even Londeka, the loudest, was sitted quietly in her desk with her head bowed down, only her pen did the talking. Clearly, everyone was nervous about the test. Even Thabo, the womaniser, was not in Sethu’s case and actually doing what he came to school for. Of course, there were a few noises here and there. Mostly people arguing with each other about who got the right answer or who can actually memorise the theorems correctly. Beside that, everything was calm.
After minutes of starring my maths book with nothing to do, I decided to jump to the toilets. That’s when I bumped into her. My beautiful goddess. For the first time since we got into this school, we held a decent and long enough conversation. Mainly discussing the upcoming test and how nervous she was. She even asked me to help her sometime. And that’s how I scored her phone number. To talk about maths of course. We ended the conversation with cute smiles and giggles and a hug to tone down her nerves. From the look of things, it was still going to be a long one and I made sure to prolong it for as long as I could, but the bell ruined that. But I was grateful for the hug.
I got to inhale her fresh sweet scent that stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon. It even helped me nail the test. Not that it was hard like it usually is. When I got home, the first thing I did was to video call her. To check how she wrote and everything else. A maths chat later became a whole 3 hours of laughter and jokes. I really enjoyed myself.
A week later, we were back to how we were. Her phone number on my phone and the long video chats we had meant nothing when she was with her friends. The long kisses we shared during our maths sessions seemed like nothing but distant imaginations I had made up. I get it, she’s the most popular pretty girl in the school and I’m just a fat clever guy people know. But all I needed is for her to let me love her. Let me hold her. Let me be there for her with her in front of everyone. Is that even a crime?
