You're That Girl (Chapter 1)

Okay,Where do I start from? I should probably start from The day I was Totally ignored at a quiz competition just because I looked plain And the Anchor of the competition only chose my fellow colleagues that looked good. Mind you, we lost woefully. (I mean, They looked good physically, not mentally.)

Or maybe I should start from that Horrible day when Dad came in with the word IT'S OVER written in Bold letters across his forehead because he'd lost a much invested-in contract to a corrupt politician. It took weeks to get him back to his usual mood even though we knew our financial status wasn't going to smile brightly any more. That's probably what led to my plain appearance, and the only reason why I was still in "SOUNDHOPE HIGH" was because dad was a major shareholder in the board and it came with a (No Tuition Fee) clause.

You know what? I think I know where I'll start my story from, but before that, This are the few things you should probably know about me.

• My Name,Remi Martins is the death of me. Why? Because it's the same Pronunciation with a popular Alcoholic drink, (Remy Martin) that my dad loves ( He loved his Favorite drink so much, he named his only Daughter after it. Fabulous!) And that's why I'm always insulted at school with a drunk expression all the time, even the teachers laugh at my Name.

•• I'm not Boring, so don't even think about imagining me that way. In fact, I own a popular blog that supplies the whole of my school with the latest gossip in town and only my IT teacher knows I'm the Editor of "SOUNDGIST", Makes me feel like Hannah Montana, you know, living a double life ish. Boring people don't run blogs! That's my point.

••• I'm not a Smartie, I'm no geek, I don't even fancy eye glasses,I just put them on when I have to seat behind the class and for whatever reason, people think I'm a genius.

•••• (God forgive me, I love you) But I HATE MY CHURCH!!! Any teenager that attends a Pentecostal church can relate.

••••• I love Tiwa Savage. Why wouldn't anyone love Tiwa? Like what's there not to love about her?

•••••• Simplicity is my Style.

••••••• My mum Has HIV/Aids, but you probably would share a toothbrush with her cos it's so not obvious. She makes me wanna have HIV. Just kidding. It was horrific at first, but we've learnt to understand that HIV isn't a death sentence, in fact, it's no big deal. (Long as you use your Anti retroviral pills religiously and eat healthy). Nobody knows about her Virus anyways.

•••••••• If I was to pick between Facebook and Instagram, I'll choose Facebook. Instagram is just something that'll pass in time,just watch.

••••••••• I'm a goal getter, I try not to fail in anything I set my mind into. Losing is not an option.

•••••••••• I'm friendly, And that's probably what led me to Aisha Balewa.

Everyone that has attended a typical Secondary school in Nigeria knows that there's always the Teachers Pet, You know the girl every teacher likes, because she's Beautiful with Brains or She's Bodied and Talented, Well,Aisha definitely has all these four traits, I'm talking, Beauty, Brain, Talents and Body. She's the Social prefect slash most popular girl in "SOUNDHOPE HIGH" And the fact that her father is filthy rich doesn't even count. We've exchanged a few words here and there but it all began on that fateful day, When the only teacher that thought I had potential, Mr Williams, the IT teacher. Informed me that he'd signed me up for the upcoming debate on 'Feminism' and that I was to be the chief speaker for the supporting team, he didn't inform me that Aisha was the Chief speaker for the opposing team.

There's no week that Aisha's name doesn't get mentioned in my blog and as frustrating as it is, I have to bear it, I mean, I have to feed them every gist. I would gladly try my best never to have her mentioned on my blog,But she's popular, and social, so it's impossible. And every one knows Aisha has never been defeated in a debate. But I knew She wasn't going to win this one, I mean, I'm a goal getter, I don't lose.

I still remember how everyone acted like I didn't exist when I climbed the podium. Some teachers had to beg the students to clap for me. Don't feel bad for me, I mean, I'm used to it but they weren't ready for me yet.

I still remember how I began.

"Good day panel of judges, My ever accurate Time keeper, my Co debaters and my ever listening audience" the last line got some attention from them. The things these people didn't know was that I'd been hoping and praying for a chance to prove to that I actually existed, I'd day dreamed, imagined, fantasized and prayed for the day when I would stand in front of everyone and drop a knowledge on them. This was my chance, and I didn't plan on ruining it. I remember belting my thoughts on feminism, I remember talking and arguing emotionally from the depth of my heart. Gender equality has always been my motto so I was a complete natural on the position. I didn't have to research on the topic because it was something we argued about at home. I mean, Tiwa Savage, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, all these lady who I love and adore are Feminist so I wasn't surprised when everyone stood up and applauded me after my first argument. It felt so good, like I'd given a speech. I was happy to see every woman in the room nodding their head at my point, even a member of Aisha's team was almost in tears. I'm not kidding. But I could see the burning fury in Aisha's eye.

Winning the debate didn't guarantee me automatic popularity, but for two weeks straight, I was the main gist.I felt happy writing and praising myself on my own blog and it didn't feel cheesy, I mean,everyone were talking about the girl that defeated Aisha Balewa. Her friends had bad things to say about me,( it's better than having nothing to say about me) and her enemies admired me. Some teachers called me into their classes from time to time to ask questions on feminism and I was glad to supply them with answers, even happier to post it on my blog.

I'd gotten another invite to another debate as the head speaker and the school wasn't just talking about the fact that they couldn't wait to get blown away, they were amazed at the fact that Aisha was the second speaker on my team. That had never happened before. For another weeks, 'Remy Martin' was the talk of the school. But there was a slight problem, Aisha wasn't attending any of our rehearsals. She always found excuses not to talk to me and quickly ran off after closing ours. It was obvious that she was planning to make me fail, I wasn't going to let that happen. With the support of Mr Williams, I got her home address which was actually a walking distance from mine although it was a reserved area, and after school, I had my bath, quickly did my school work and some house chores, picked my earpiece (I can't go out without them), my phone, the debate file and I left, promising my Senior brother that I'd be back before mum and dad returned. He had my lunch in exchange though.

As I walked To Aisha's house, I wondered how come I'd never seen her even when our houses weren't far from each other and I got the answer immediately, We lived in two worlds. In a world where I had to run errands and do house chores she just typed on her phone all day and probably watched as her house maid laid her bed. Life is sooooo fair.

As I expected and as everyone described, Aisha's place wasn't a house, it was a Mansion, A scary one at that. You know those buildings you're scared of entering because you think you'll soil the whole place by just stepping your feet on the tiled floor? Yes, that's how Aisha's house is. Everything's white. I know this because Their gate is a look-through low fenced type of gate so you can see the whole building by just passing by. In fact, the only reason why I got through the security of her street was because my dad was friendly with the security guard of the street. The man would come to our house once in awhile and eat like he wasn't planning to see the next day, and when he was leaving he'd give a funny face and wait for my dad to give him money. So you understand why I was let into her street without the usual phone call procedure.

Her gate man, whose name was Usman (he told me this while displaying his incomplete teeth) FYI, he's a pervert. He gladly opened the gate for me after I gave him a fake phone number. (Only if Aisha and her family members know how insecure their lives are)

If I wasn't naturally courageous, I would have totally ran out of the house just at the sight fleet of cars that graced the sparkling clean garage of Aisha's house. I never thought car garages were so neat. Some of the cars that were parked in the garage were vehicles I'd only seen on TV and music videos. I don't even know their names.

I said hello to the helps and they nodded in return, staring at me like I wore a bikini in the middle of a market square. Obviously they weren't used to having plain looking girls around.

I bit my lip as I pressed the door bell and immediately, the door slowly creaked open and a old man in a movie-type butler outfit appeared.

"Good evening sir" I greeted. He just nodded in reply and stood aside for me to get in.

"You're a of Ai?" He asked with an expressionless look on his wrinkled face.

"Yes Sir"

"I'm her chauffeur, she tells me a lot about you"

"Um...really?"

"That will be all for now, Kamal, I'll take it from here" Aisha's voice startled me for a second. I looked up and saw her leaning on the railings of the royal staircase. The old man bowed, turned to me, nodded and left the room.

She walked majestically down the stairs, she was putting on a black pearl embellished long sleeved top and a ripped denim jean. She complimented the look a black turban. She also had her iPhone on one hand.

"It's you. What do you want? And what are you doing in my house?"

"Uh, Your house is really huge! Where's the living room?"

"I'm not joking. Answer my questions"

"Can we seat and talk? I'm going to be real quick. Can you lead me to your sitting--"

"My dad's having a meeting" she tapped her feet impatiently and looked around before saying. "Come up to my room."

I stood for a second, registering her words. Did she just ask me to climb this Royal crystal stairs? To her room?

"Okay, okay. Lead the way" I said, trying hard not to itch my hair.

She gave me a strange look, rolled her eyes and cat walked effortlessly to her room.

To be honest, I was expecting a princess themed room, you know the classic Pink type of room, but I was totally impressed at how mature her room was. As expected, it had expensive looking furniture, mostly brown and white and her bed was a little bit messed up.

"Have a seat" she offered and leaned on the wall with one foot up for support.

"So, I'm sure there isn't a need for me to introduce myself"

"Don't be hilarious, who doesn't know Remi Martins, I mean my dad has a whole box of you stacked in our wine cellar." She huffed. I didn't like it when people made fun of my name, but the way she did it made me laugh.

"Okay, that's funny."

"No it isn't, how can you even live with yourself knowing you'll always have to listen to something like that for the rest of your life?" She said and left the wall to claim a seat in front of me.

I shrugged."It's my name, and I've grown used to it."

"Your funeral. So, what is it that you want?"

"Why haven't you been attending our debate rehearsals?"

"You know why, everyone knows why. So cut through the chase and go straight to the point?"

"So you're not rehearsing with us because I'm the chief speaker?"

"Yup" she popped.

"Let me guess, nothing I say will make you rehearse with us so I'm just wasting my time."

She had a triumphant look on.
"Finally! Someone that's so smart and direct." She said to no one in particular.

"But, we actually need you. I mean, we can't do this without you"

"Then will you pass the chief speaker title to me?"

"Are you for real?"

"Yup" she popped again, even louder.

"I mean, you're joking right?"

"Nope" she popped.

"It's just a debate, what's the big deal?"

"If it's no big deal to you, give me the post as the chief speaker"

"But you've always been chief speaker !"

"I'll like to keep it that way, and hey, tone down your voice, my dad hates noise"

"I'm sorry" I whispered. "You really need to reconsider and join our rehearsal."

"Is that all?" She asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Then I suggest it's time for you to leave."

"O...kay." I stood up. "Thanks for having me, see you at school tomorrow"

"Point of correction, you found your way into my house. And yes, I'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded and found my way back down the stairs. I was about to Open the door when I heard her shout. "Stop!" I turned back and saw her leaning on the railings again.

"Can I pay you?" She asked out of the blue.

"I don't understand" I said in genuine confusion.

"Can I pay you to pass the post to me and for your attack points.?"

"How much are we talking about here?" I asked, trying to have a little fun.

"Name your price." She deadpanned.

"Are you for real?"

"Name....your....price"

"One hundred thousand naira" I said, in the hope that she'll laugh and throw me out, but she just blew breeze on her polished nails and said,

"A hundred thousand and no one will hear about it?"

"Make it two hundred thousand"

"Deal. Give me your banking details."

"You're one sick girl!" I hissed when I saw how serious she was and I let my self out.

As I walked back home, I couldn't stop thinking about my encounter with the Desperate Girl.

Hey guys! I totally appreciate the love you've been showering on me. I love each and everyone of you. So as you can see, I'm back again with another book. I need your sincere support on this one. Kindly try your best to vote on every chapter. And I also love reading your comments. Follow me on Instagram @Cinmisola that handle works for Facebook and Snapchat too. Don't forget to vote!