Chapter Eleven

The day went by quickly, and as the final school bell rang, the students started making their way home. Riding home that day, Dera was filled with hope, and as the wind blew her hair into a mess, she felt that it was the wind of hope.

When she reached home, she quickly changed into a simple yellow dress and headed to the shop to help out.

Dera brought her Literature textbook along, determined to make the most of her free moments by delving into its pages. Her father had ventured out to meet some friends seeking their assistance in borrowing money for Dera's WASSCE registration. Meanwhile, her mother remained engrossed in her tasks in the backyard of the shop. As Dera was the only one inside the shop, she did her best to serve the customers while skillfully carving out precious moments to immerse herself in the captivating world of her book.

'Deep in your book, huh?' a mocking voice interrupted Dera's concentration.

Dera's gaze rose to meet the sight of the stunning woman standing before her. She donned a breathtaking light pink trouser suit, exquisitely tailored, accentuated by a delicate white belt and complemented by matching pumps. Enhancing her ensemble, she adorned herself with dainty pearl earrings, while her wavy hair cascaded gracefully down her shoulders. Recognising the woman's identity, Dera quickly apologised, saying, 'I'm sorry, ma'am.'

'Shouldn't you pay attention to your customers instead of that book?' Sharon said, mocking Dera. She was Jennifer's mother and a regular customer who often came to the shop to find faults rather than buy something, as she would usually toss whatever she bought into the trash can at the front entrance.

'I apologise,' Dera said again, trying her best not to offend Sharon.

'I don't have time to listen to your apologies. I want to buy a carton of small-sized milk drink and a loaf of bread that is if you have time to serve me. Perhaps I should wait for your mother...' Sharon's voice was filled with ridicule.

'No, no,' Dera pushed the book away. 'What did you say you want?'

'I told you already,' Sharon snapped.

'Yeah, I remember,' Dera replied slowly and retrieved the carton of milk drink and bread, carefully placing them in a blue plastic bag. Her intense expression made Sharon feel guilty for her earlier rudeness. Dera saw through Sharon's intentions and knew that Sharon hadn't come to shop; she had come to mock her. Despite the tragic events in Dera's life and the uncertainty of being able to sit for the exam, she hadn't stopped studying and remained hopeful. 'Ma'am, the total is nine hundred naira.'

Sharon opened her bag and took out a one thousand naira note, handing it to Dera. 'Dera, my daughter told me everything that happened. The WASSCE examination determines the academic progress of students and their eligibility for further studies. The result is internationally recognised. Students who perform well in the WASSCE exam have a higher chance of gaining admission into tertiary institutions. Since you've lost so much concentration due to poverty, how are you going to cope with the exams if you manage to register? Anyway, I suggest you get yourself a job; that way, you can expedite the registration process.'

'I am still a secondary school student. Finding a suitable job won't be easy.'

'Dera, I suggested you get a job because I feel sorry for you. There is a butcher's shop close by. It may not be a glamorous job, but you can still save a little for your registration.'

Dera sighed and looked at Sharon. 'Ma'am, are you suggesting that I work somewhere else?'

'If you don't want to work at the butcher's shop because you can't deal with selling meat to customers, you could try the chemist or maybe work as a newspaper vendor since you want to be a journalist. What about working in a hotel? I could recommend a few where you could make quick cash. Lastly, you could work for me for the rest of your life. Just be my slave, and I will take good care of you.'

'No thank you, Sharon. My daughter would prefer to earn her own wages in our shop,' Beatrice said from the back door as she walked inside.

Sharon turned to Beatrice. 'I hope you get the money quickly, or else your daughter will have to repeat another year.'

'She won't repeat another year,' Beatrice said hopefully.

'Then go to school and pay up,' Sharon mocked. Turning back to Dera, Sharon said, 'Give me my change. I need to get out of this stinking place.'

'It's hundred naira, ma'am.'

'I know. I gave you one thousand naira,' Sharon scoffed.

'Dera, hurry up and give Sharon her change if you don't want to hear another suggestion. She might suggest you work in a morgue.'

'Ma'am, I have given you your change,' Dera looked at Sharon and said.

'When?'

'Before you suggested that I should get a job,' Dera replied. 'Ma'am, you put the money in your handbag. Please check your bag; you'll find it there,' Dera said.