If Wishes Were Horses

When I was promoted to grade 11, I began to see opposing viewpoints. I'd begun to develop a different perspective on the number of opportunities available to me at school. It occurred during the first term of my eleventh grade year. A new girl had been admitted to the boarding high school alongside me. She took the school test and was enrolled in my class. Unlike the few students from affluent families in my school, she was the only girl who appeared independent to those who saw her. Chioma Obi was her name. A very robust girl, very dark in nature, with her set of white teeth and a dimple that appears whenever she smiles. She exudes beauty and luxury. Chioma's admission to the school, as well as her first appearance in my class, changed my life. At first, she did not appear to interact with any of us in particular. We all appeared beneath her in true elegance. On the day she was accepted into the school, her father drove her there in one of the most popular cars we have ever seen. She was the type of person who makes you envious of wealthy people and their lifestyles, as well as the type who makes you undervalue everything you have or have received. Everyone thought her parents treated her very well at home. However, her attitude was extremely negative, which was completely unacceptable to the school teachers and anyone she had encountered at school. She was usually disrespectful to some of the teachers and her classmates, until the very day we clicked together. 

Every student in my school has always found it difficult to prepare for their first school test. During that time, no one has time to engage in unnecessary interactions with their classmates. Our school teachers would usually assign us a test to help us prepare academically for each new term. Every student in my school was serious and busy studying their books, with the exception of Chioma, who kept hoping from the dormitory to the school canteen. She wouldn'tstop spending her pocket money recklessly on junk food sold on the school canteen, despite the fact that she rarely ate school meals. I couldn't tell about the other students, but I was fairly certain she was the only one in my grade who was unconcerned about any of the school activities or the first test preparation that was going on. 

On the faithful day of our school's first test. Our classroom was completely silent, with the teacher supervising us calling out the names of those who were present. We were all seated in alphabetical order of surnames. Chioma was seated next to me, as her surname implies, 'Obi'. It was a Mathematics test, which I am confident I excelled at. We were given instructions on what to do as well as a time limit for starting and stopping.

"Alright. You can start writing right now!" Our supervisor's masculine voice echoed in our ears as we hurriedly began answering the questions written on a piece of paper.

I was able to answer a few of the questions on the paper while pondering the remaining ones, which I found difficult. Some of my fellow students, whom I had already begun with, had finished theirs. A moment later, I heard a small cry beside me. I tried to ignore it so I could focus on the last question I was attempting to answer, but the cry would not stop, and the supervisor was not hearing it. I slowly looked beside me and saw Chioma sweating profusely, tears streaming down her cheeks that she was attempting to hide.I figured out she hadn't written anything yet, aside from her name, which she boldly wrote at the top of her answer script. I felt sorry for her. The lower part of her question script was drenched in a mixture of tears and sweat, and her right hand trembled as she struggled to write something she had no idea about. I gave a mischievous smile and shook my head in doubt. Everyone had assumed that she was a queen who never interacted with anyone or sought help from anyone.

"Do you need any assistance?" I gently asked her.

She did not hesitate to nod her head in agreement. We were strictly warned not to engage in any form of examination malpractice during the test. I looked around and noticed the supervisor speaking with a female teacher who had stopped by the classroom door to see how we were doing. I quickly handed Chioma my answer script, which she took and quickly copied down the answers I had provided. She was quick enough to finish everything on her answer script before the supervisor realized what was going on. We both behaved normally and then submitted our answer scripts when the time was up. 

"Thank you so much, Maria." Chioma expressed her gratitude.

I gave a smile and nodded. It was the first time a student at that school had addressed me by my first name. She later invited me to join her at the school canteen. She brought some junk food, which we ate together as we introduced ourselves and talked about our families. Aside from her attitude at school, I discovered she was a very caring person. We became friends immediately. Among our classmates, I was the first one she ever connected 

with. 

Being friends with Chioma exposed me to a variety of new experiences. She began spending a lot of money on me. When I was running low on food provisions, she was generous enough to share hers with me. With her, I didn't really lack for anything. Her parents would usually send a driver to bring her everything she needed to sustain her throughout a term or more. I became dissatisfied with the amount of things Auntie Rita and my father were providing for me. I could no longer be satisfied with the regular food provision they used to provide for me.