CHAPTER 14 - THE GIRL WITH NO PLACE

Friday, 16th July, 2042, the weather was cool, and the skies were bright. It was a perfect Friday morning. Star dashed down the estate's beautifully tarred road, her heart bubbling with joy.

The street was quiet with no one in sight, except for the cheerful songs of birds soaring overhead. The peace in the air seemed to echo her happiness, and nothing could dim the glow on her face. 

Today wasn't just any day; it was the final day of her wearing the white-and-blue uniform she had worn for years as a college student. The feeling was surreal, especially as they had just celebrated their sendoff party.

She clutched a sheet of paper tightly to her chest as she ran toward her home. It was more than just a paper; it was her WAEC and final school result.

Her feet barely touched the ground as she raced through the compound silver gate, bursting with pride and excitement.

"Good morning, Mr. Ojo!" Star greeted cheerfully, giving a respectful bow to their middle-aged gate-man.

Ojo, who was in his early forties, returned the smile.

"Good morning, Star. How are you this fine morning?"

"I'm fine, thank you, sir. And you?"

"I'm well, my little madam. But you, you look extremely happy today."

Star grinned from ear to ear, hiding the paper behind her back playfully. "Guess what?"

Ojo folded his arms, already sensing the answer.

"There's nothing to guess. You credited your WAEC."

Her eyes widened. "Yes! How did you know?"

He chuckled. "I just knew. You're a smart girl. And you've been expecting your result."

"You're right," she said teasingly. "I got 7 As and 2 Cs in my WAEC result, but there's something more."

"Tell me, baby Star," he urged, leaning closer, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

He had known Star since she was a child. She was bright, calm, and respectful. Everyone in the household admired her. The cook often praised her helpful nature, and the gardener looked forward to her company during his workdays. Her charm was effortless. She was the kind of girl who left a good mark on every heart.

But not everyone felt that way. Her stepsister, Purple, was a stark contrast. Where Star was kind and warm, Purple was cold and difficult. The two girls shared a roof but little else in common.

"Come closer," Star whispered, motioning with her fingers like she had a top-secret mission to share.

Ojo leaned in eagerly, ready to catch every word.

"Shhh, don't tell anyone," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I swear I won't," he said quickly, even pulling on his earlobe to show he meant it.

Star giggled.

"Actually... I promised Mummy she'll be the first to hear it!" And with that, she took off, running into the house like the wind.

"Ah ah! That's not fair now! I already positioned myself to hear the gist!" Ojo called out in protest, his voice echoing across the compound.

"Star! Star!" he shouted again, but the girl had vanished into the house.

He hissed softly, shaking his head with a smile and heading back to his post. Even in her mischief, Star still brought a kind of joy no one could explain.

Star stepped into the house quietly. The familiar scent of polished wood and serene botanical fragrance filled her nostrils, a smell she had known all her life. The mansion stood tall and elegant with many rooms, wide corridors, and shiny tiles that made your footsteps echo.

This was the house she had grown up in, yet sometimes, it felt like a stranger's home. A home that tolerated her presence but never truly embraced her.

She walked through the passage slowly, memories flooding back to her mind, especially that unforgettable day when Purple, her stepsister, chased her out of the room they once shared.

Star was only ten years old at the time, and the wound from that day still bled in her heart. Purple had stood at the door, arms crossed, with her small chin lifted in pride and declared, 

"You don't belong here. Leave my room!"

Confused and shaken, Star had run to her mother for answers. Her heart thumped loudly as she entered the master bedroom that evening, her small voice trembling,

 "Mummy, why did Purple say I don't belong here?"

Peace, her mother, had looked at her with tired eyes. That was the first time she explained the truth to Star: her biological father had died in a fatal accident, way before she was born. A few years later, Peace had married a wealthy man, Chike, Purple's father. It made sense now. Why was she different? Why didn't she attend the same private school as Purple?

Purple was chauffeured every morning to "My Kids and I Group of Schools," the best in the estate. Meanwhile, Star trekked daily to Girls' High College, a government school just outside their estate gates.

Mr. Johnson, the family driver, drove Purple with pride. But he never got permission to drive Star, even on rainy days. Still, Star bore it all. She told herself that her background would never determine her future. She poured her pain into her books and remained one of the brightest students in her school.

She always arrived early, came first in all her classes, and became the overall best student from Junior Secondary through to Senior Secondary.

But nothing prepared her for that one sad morning. It was midterm test week. Star had woken up with her body burning from within. Her throat was dry, her eyes heavy, and her legs weak. Fever. She was sure of it. Her mother didn't even know. She was either locked in her room or sitting on the balcony, talking to herself. Ever since her health declined, Peace had become more of a ghost than a guardian.

Star dragged herself to the bathroom, managing a quick, warm bath. The coldness of the tiles made her shiver. She dressed in her neatly ironed uniform, hoping to catch up with time. The test was too important for her to miss. She hadn't missed school a single day in five years, and she wouldn't let that record break now.

By the time she came downstairs, she could barely stand. The dining table was set with food, but she had no appetite. Her head rested gently on the wooden table, her eyes shutting slowly.

Mma, the young cook, walked in carrying another plate. She paused when she saw Star sitting there, that is quite unlike her.

 "Star, are you okay?" Mma asked, placing the food gently.

"I don't know… I think I'm having a fever," Star said in a soft, tired voice. She raised her head, looking pale and drained.

Mma dropped the plate immediately and rushed to her. She touched her forehead and gasped.

"Your temperature is high. Have you eaten anything?"

Star shook her head slowly.

"You need to eat something… at least a small one," Mma begged, but Star could barely lift the spoon. The cook sighed deeply. She couldn't let this girl go to school in this condition.

Without wasting time, she led Star outside to the car, where Mr. Johnson was already preparing to drive Purple to school.

"Sir, Star is not feeling well. She has a high fever and is too weak to walk. Please, she needs to use the car today," Mma explained.

Mr. Johnson turned and looked at Star with pity.

"Ah, this girl… You want to go to school like this?"

Star nodded slowly, her resolve still intact.

"We're having our midterm test today. I must go."

Moved, Mr. Johnson opened the back door and helped her inside. But just moments later, trouble arrived.

Purple came down the staircase with her usual attitude, chest out, face raised, as though the world revolved around her. She was dressed perfectly in her spotless uniform, hair laid, lip gloss shining with light makeup boldly seen. But the moment she saw Star sitting inside the car, her face twisted in disgust.

"What is she doing in the car?" she asked loudly, stopping in her tracks.

"She's sick, Purple," Mr. Johnson replied patiently. "Just for today, please let her go with us."

Purple narrowed her eyes. "She's not going anywhere with me."

"She has a fever," Mma added. "She can't trek today."

"I don't care if she's burning with fire. She's not going to school in this car with me,"

Purple snapped, walking closer with her arms folded and her small hips swaying.

"Please, Purple," Mr. Johnson begged again.

"Your sister is not well."

"Step sister," she corrected bitterly. "I'm not sharing a car with someone who isn't even meant to be in this house. I said she should come down!"

Mma stood from the passenger seat and came out, placing herself between Purple

and the car. 

"Why are you being wicked? She's human like you."

Purple rolled her eyes.

 "I appreciate her being my stepsister, but we are not meant to share anything. Not a room. Not a car. Nothing. So she should get out or I'll push her out myself!"

Star tried to respond, but she was too weak. Mma helped her down gently.

Purple climbed into the car with pride and banged the door loudly. Without a word, Mr. Johnson drove off. Mma stood with Star beside her, watching the car disappear.

She sighed.

"This girl has no heart."

Star was silent, shivering slightly in the morning breeze. Mma looked at her and frowned. She couldn't just let this child go off like that. She thought about talking to Star's mom, but she knew that would be a total waste of time because the woman's state of health is nothing to write home about, and drugs have made her a shadow of herself.

"I'm not letting you go to school alone in this state," she said finally.

"I have to write the test," Star whispered.

An idea suddenly sparked in Mma's mind.

"Where is your phone?" she asked.

"In my school bag," Star replied weakly.

"Do you have your teacher's phone number?"

"Yes."

Mma quickly fetched the phone, scrolled through the contacts, and found the number saved as "My home teacher." She dialed.

When the teacher picked up, Mma explained everything. Mrs Ukwandu was surprised but grateful to know what was going on.

"Don't worry," she said over the phone. "Tell her to rest. We'll give her another chance to take the test when she's well."

Mma smiled and thanked her. She turned to Star.

"You're not missing the test, okay? Now let's go inside. You need rest."

Star gave a weak smile, tears gathering in her eyes. It wasn't the fever that hurt the most; it was the coldness of her own family. But in that moment, she knew at least one person still cared.

Education was more than just a goal for Star; it was her lifeline. Every book she read, every note she wrote, every test she prepared for, all were pieces of her identity. If she wasn't reading, she was writing, and if not writing, she was dancing.

Yes, dancing, that was the one thing that allowed her to express herself without words. Whenever music played, her body moved as if the rhythm lived inside her bones. Dancing made her known, even among students from other schools who had seen her perform at inter-school events. But beyond her talents, there was something deeper that made Star stand out: her humility.

Star was a girl with a soft spirit, gentle, meek, and never proud. She was always the first to say "sorry," the last to raise her voice, and always willing to help others, even when no one helped her. In everything she did, she remembered one thing her mother had always told her, before her mental illness began: "Let God be your anchor."

Star loved God. It wasn't just something she said to please people. It was how she lived. She prayed, she sang hymns to herself quietly while walking to school, and she read her small Bible every night before bed, even when her body was tired and her heart was heavy.

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