Chapter Two

With a soft sigh, I made my way to the back of the classroom, keeping my gaze lowered, fixed on the cement floor until I reached the designated spot. As I stood there, I silently chuckled at the cheer that erupted outside when an udara fruit fell, followed by the ensuing squabble over who had the first shot. Listening to their quarrels and cheers, I realised I would miss such moments once I graduated from the school next year.

'How could you act so childishly when your mock exams start tomorrow?' My History teacher scolded as all eyes in the classroom turned to me. 'You're eighteen now, no longer a child!'

'I apologise,' I said meekly.

Yes, I was eighteen, a senior in high school, preparing to sit for my West African Senior School Certificate Examination the following year. But that didn't mean I couldn't occasionally indulge in childish desires, right? I longed for the succulent udara fruits, and I couldn't help but daydream about the special day, December 25th, when my family celebrated our unique traditions. Memories of childhood are what bring us joy in later years. If I couldn't act like a child now, what would I reminisce about when I grew old?

'Senior year is about studying, not begging for udara! Your exams should take precedence over everything else,' my History teacher scolded, her glare unwavering. 'Since you weren't paying attention, why don't you share with the class what you were thinking about?'

'I was thinking about the sweet udara fruits and our Bamboo tea family tradition... Every Christmas, my family celebrates our special traditions,' the words slipped from my mouth without much thought, causing the entire class to erupt in laughter.

The History teacher's face darkened, and she snapped angrily, 'So, you're daydreaming about udara and family traditions simultaneously? Do you have worms crawling in your brain?'

The students burst into laughter once again at her remark.

'Eva, I never expected your family traditions to distract you like this. However, I'll let it slide today because of your photographic memory and your consistent record of straight A's,' she conceded, her tone slightly softened.

I smiled in response to the History teacher's remarks. Was that the privilege of being a genius? It was true that I had gained a reputation among my classmates for my exceptional memory. I had the uncanny ability to absorb the contents of any textbook within seconds, allowing me to effortlessly transcribe the information onto my answer sheets during exams. While this made me confident about my upcoming tests, my mind was already drifting towards the end of the term when I could join my parents and younger sister on the bus ride to our village. However, Madam Agnes' words still didn't sit well with me. Despite my intellectual abilities, I never wanted others to feel inferior, as my father had always emphasised that everyone possessed their own unique skills and talents.