High School Shenanigans

I was still trying to adjust to living far away from home. The environment I found myself in was filled with both good and dubious people. The first lesson I learnt was never to be scared of people, both the teachers and the students, especially the senior students.

Source
I learnt this lesson when I saw three SS1 girls bullying my classmate. That day was my first day in the dormitory, and that girl was one of the students who introduced herself as my classmate. I had chatted with this girl for a long time, and noticed she had a sharp tongue.

"All the seniors in this room are beggars. Be careful with your toiletries," she had warned me. So when I saw those seniors bullying her, I wasn't surprised. She must have said something to annoy them. However, I walked up to them and pleaded on her behalf.

"She won't do it again," I said, and they all scoffed.
"Who invited you to this place? So you have the guts to talk when your seniors are talking, Ehn?" One of the girls asked me.
I didn't say much, but I pulled Sommy out of their circle. It was later I realised she didn't insult them; they asked her to take a letter to a boy, and she refused.
That was when I knew that if I must be respected, then I have to keep my head high and my shoulders straight. I also have to be very smart, if possible smarter than 'em seniors. And that was how I became the least troubled junior student in my block.

There were also some troublemakers in my class. These girls seemed nice but were actually quite promiscuous. They acted as go-betweens for the SS1 girls and their boyfriends. Additionally, they had a habit of taking things that didn't belong to them. They were careless and would swap their lost items with someone else's, like taking your stockings and making them their own, altering them just enough to avoid detection upon inspection.

I wasn't the most outgoing person, so observation became my middle name. I paid attention to every detail; I knew all my roommates' utensils, their outfits, and their mannerisms. I could always tell who was being truthful and who wasn't. I also mastered the art of minding my own business to steer clear of being dragged into repeating gossip.

Magdalene stood out to me as one of the troublemakers. She never got caught due to her friendly demeanor. Despite her short stature, her deep dimples when she smiled drew many people to her. It seemed like she was well aware of this charm because she smiled frequently.

Source

One Monday morning, I headed to my wardrobe to grab my shirt. Since I shared the wardrobe with Sommy, I was taken aback to find a different uniform shirt instead of mine or Sommy's.

"Sommy, have you seen my shirt?" I enquired.
"It was there; check the wardrobe," she hastily replied.
We were all getting ready to head to the refectory for our usual Monday breakfast of two slices of bread, one egg, and white tea with just milk and sugar. After that, we'd gather for assembly by 7:30 am.

"This shirt isn't mine; it's really dirty," I expressed my frustration.
Time was ticking, and the hostel prefects would soon start counting, signalling us to leave the hostel.

Sommy hurried over to inspect the shirt herself. It had a thick dirt line on the collar, blackened armpits, and emitted a foul odour.

"Who took Phyna's shirt?" Sommy's question echoed in the room, catching everyone's attention. Some started to act busy; others attempted to leave. I dashed to the door and shut it.

"No JSS 1 girl leaves until I find my shirt!" I declared, my anger reaching its peak.
The SS1 girls helped by instructing everyone to search their areas, including their boxes.

"Where did you put it?" Sis Marilyn enquired.

"My uniform was neatly ironed and stored in my wardrobe," I managed to say, holding back tears that were already clouding my vision.

After checking everyone, my shirt was still missing. I decided to focus on the shady ones. First up was Magdalene; she proudly pointed out her name on the shirt's collar, written in fresh blue ink.

"I always renew the name," she claimed.

Knowing I had stitched the first letter of my name at the shirt's seam. I requested she take it off for a closer inspection. This request triggered her anger, leading to a heated argument. Our raised voices caught the attention of the two matrons and porters responsible for us.

Despite my assertions, the matrons found it hard to believe me; in their eyes, Magdalene was an angelic girl who could do no wrong. But I was determined to prove them wrong, I kept my Trump card hidden— i.e my first letter embroidered on the shirt. If I had revealed this, she might have confessed earlier, sparing the public scene.
So I allowed her to confidently lie to the matrons, hostel staff, and the onlookers.

"I always inscribe my name after washing my shirt. See, this loose button is another identifying mark," she tearfully defended herself.

Before I could even show them my own mark on the shirt, the crowd turned against me, viewing me as the antagonist, fighting over what they believed wasn't mine.

"Learn to wash your uniform, lazy girl. This behaviour isn't acceptable in this school. You can't just claim stuff that isn't yours; it's like indirectly calling her a thief," scolded one of the matrons.

They all shot me looks of disapproval and tears started rolling down my face. With her refusing to take off the shirt, there's no way I can prove the shirt is mine.

However, luck decided to shine on me. The other matron asked if I could prove the shirt was mine. I nodded quickly, and she gave me the go-ahead.

"But she needs to remove the shirt," I said.

The matron signalled to Magdalene to take it off. After some hesitation, she complied, and I showed them the first letter of my name embroidered on the shirt's seam.

"I also wrote my name on the collar, but I think she cleaned that part. See, it's not completely cleaned," I pointed out.
Murmurs and gasps filled the room; I knew the table has turned and now it was Magdalene's turn to face the consequences.

"How old are you?" the matron enquired.
"Ten," replied Magdalene, her head lowered.
"Just ten, and already behaving like this. How much worse will you get as you grow up?" The matron remarked with disdain.

"Meet me today at 3 pm for your punishment. And make sure to steer clear of people while wearing that filthy shirt," instructed one of the porters.
My heart swelled with satisfaction, not just for my shirt but for exposing her. It wasn't the first time she had stolen, but it seemed to be the last as she appeared to have turned a new leaf after that incident.

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