Read Online Telesa - The Covenant Keeper by Lani Wendt Young - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lani Wendt Young
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that thought made me, regretful?
The rest of the day was uneventful. There was some whispering and laughter when I walked into History class, but I steeled myself against it with the reminder that people had far more exciting things to talk about than me and it was doubtful that I would be the source of their animated conversations. Last period was Library, which meant lots of time to sit and think, or – in Maleko’s case – lots of time to throw paper at the girls in the front row and fluster the fresh-faced young librarian with his generous smiles. If nothing else, having boys like Maleko in the class meant an hour of library was never boring.
When the final bell rang, I was in a rush to get to the front bus stop, unwilling to run into any more people who wanted to remind me about the morning’s fracas. Standing at the main gate, a cluster of girls called out goodbye as I got on the first bus to arrive. Surprised, I surveyed them with a hint of suspicion but there was nothing but friendliness in their faces as they waved.
“See you tomorrow, Leila.”
Sitting on the bus, I could see the rugby team at practice. The now familiar shape of my debate nemesis clearly obvious as the bus pulled away from the school. Slumped back in my seat, I had mixed feelings about my emotion-saturated day. So I had embarrassed myself by attacking the school’s beloved demi-god Head Boy. An attack that had been somewhat unwarranted. But nobody seemed to be holding it against me. After all, Simone had said – most of the students were ‘just like me’, mixed-up teenagers. More than anything else, that gave me a shot of positivity. Maybe there would be a place for me at this school. Maybe, this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
* * * *
The next day I was resolved to be nice. Positive. Open minded. Heck, I was even willing to try smiling. Or not. Maybe that was pushing it a bit. The morning classes passed uneventfully. An ever-jolly and somewhat annoying girl called Sinalei shadowed me from class to class, filling my personal space with her chatter. Apparently she had decided that we should be friends. In another world, I would have sent her packing with a snarl, but I had promised. To be good. Nice. So, quite unlike me, I kept a smile that became more and more plastic as the day went on and the temperature began to soar. By lunch, I was ready to send myself to solitary confinement – just to escape her, but it was the heat more than anything that contributed to my building discomfort.
It had been getting hotter each day but today was unbearably humid. Uncle Tuala had warned it meant there would be a storm later on, but that offered me little comfort now as I sucked in the wet, steaming air, trying to find a pocket of coolness. I groaned when I checked the schedule and saw my first PE class would be after lunch. How could anyone stand to exercise in this weather?
Dragging my feet, I changed into the requisite uniform with the rest of the girls, and then slouched along behind them down to the far field, clutching my water bottle. I had already finished two litres of water but it didn’t seem to be doing me much good. Just walking to the field had my yellow shirt sweat soaked and sticking uncomfortably to my back. I was too hot to even stress about the stupid PE uniform, which should have been outlawed by any and all fashion police. A yellow cotton tee and an orange skirt over skimpy shorts. It was the shortest thing I’d ever worn and I still couldn’t reconcile such a revealing outfit with the strict Samoan dress codes. I was painfully aware that my legs were even skinnier in all their non-tanned glory, especially when standing beside the other girls.
Mr Otele the PE teacher was an ex-national hurdler. Or so Sinalei whispered. Which meant half the girls were simpering at his instructions. It also meant that he was an enthusiastic teacher who believed in getting involved in the day’s sports. Meaning I couldn’t
The rest of the day was uneventful. There was some whispering and laughter when I walked into History class, but I steeled myself against it with the reminder that people had far more exciting things to talk about than me and it was doubtful that I would be the source of their animated conversations. Last period was Library, which meant lots of time to sit and think, or – in Maleko’s case – lots of time to throw paper at the girls in the front row and fluster the fresh-faced young librarian with his generous smiles. If nothing else, having boys like Maleko in the class meant an hour of library was never boring.
When the final bell rang, I was in a rush to get to the front bus stop, unwilling to run into any more people who wanted to remind me about the morning’s fracas. Standing at the main gate, a cluster of girls called out goodbye as I got on the first bus to arrive. Surprised, I surveyed them with a hint of suspicion but there was nothing but friendliness in their faces as they waved.
“See you tomorrow, Leila.”
Sitting on the bus, I could see the rugby team at practice. The now familiar shape of my debate nemesis clearly obvious as the bus pulled away from the school. Slumped back in my seat, I had mixed feelings about my emotion-saturated day. So I had embarrassed myself by attacking the school’s beloved demi-god Head Boy. An attack that had been somewhat unwarranted. But nobody seemed to be holding it against me. After all, Simone had said – most of the students were ‘just like me’, mixed-up teenagers. More than anything else, that gave me a shot of positivity. Maybe there would be a place for me at this school. Maybe, this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
* * * *
The next day I was resolved to be nice. Positive. Open minded. Heck, I was even willing to try smiling. Or not. Maybe that was pushing it a bit. The morning classes passed uneventfully. An ever-jolly and somewhat annoying girl called Sinalei shadowed me from class to class, filling my personal space with her chatter. Apparently she had decided that we should be friends. In another world, I would have sent her packing with a snarl, but I had promised. To be good. Nice. So, quite unlike me, I kept a smile that became more and more plastic as the day went on and the temperature began to soar. By lunch, I was ready to send myself to solitary confinement – just to escape her, but it was the heat more than anything that contributed to my building discomfort.
It had been getting hotter each day but today was unbearably humid. Uncle Tuala had warned it meant there would be a storm later on, but that offered me little comfort now as I sucked in the wet, steaming air, trying to find a pocket of coolness. I groaned when I checked the schedule and saw my first PE class would be after lunch. How could anyone stand to exercise in this weather?
Dragging my feet, I changed into the requisite uniform with the rest of the girls, and then slouched along behind them down to the far field, clutching my water bottle. I had already finished two litres of water but it didn’t seem to be doing me much good. Just walking to the field had my yellow shirt sweat soaked and sticking uncomfortably to my back. I was too hot to even stress about the stupid PE uniform, which should have been outlawed by any and all fashion police. A yellow cotton tee and an orange skirt over skimpy shorts. It was the shortest thing I’d ever worn and I still couldn’t reconcile such a revealing outfit with the strict Samoan dress codes. I was painfully aware that my legs were even skinnier in all their non-tanned glory, especially when standing beside the other girls.
Mr Otele the PE teacher was an ex-national hurdler. Or so Sinalei whispered. Which meant half the girls were simpering at his instructions. It also meant that he was an enthusiastic teacher who believed in getting involved in the day’s sports. Meaning I couldn’t
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