Writer: Hannah Tayla
With bad posture and creased uniform Cora hurried along the grey cobbled road, despite her exhaustion. Books bulged from underneath her arms as she smiled at Jaihrus sitting on the opposite side of the road. He sat barefoot on the pavement, with one grimy hand in the air, waving, a pencil in his mouth and a notebook in the other hand. The shade from the oak tree made him seem smaller.
For the last few weeks, Cora’s stride had slowly quickened to a hasty dash. She no longer spoke to him when she passed, always trying hard to appear studious. Today her back bent heavier under the weight of shame she was carrying and she stopped suddenly to allay its weight. She walked back to Jaihrus and thought she would ask him how he was doing before going on her way again. At least she would no longer feel as bad as she had been feeling.
His hair stood up, greasy and like an angry ocean.
“Hiya!” Jaihrus called out.
“Hey!” she tried hard to avoid eye contact. “What you been up to?” Gazing at his notebook.
“Ah the usual – drawing ‘n stuff,” Jaihrus replied, slowly sensing her discomfort.
“Say, when you gonna give me one ‘em arithmetic lessons again? I drew something but I forgot how to do the ratio stuff you taught me again.”
Core swallowed hard. Her face turned a translucent colour. A silence settled between them like a pall.
“I see,” Jaihrus said, realizing, “I didn’t know you had succumbed to…”. Then, “You don’t have to acknowledge me anymore Cora, I understand.”
“But Jai-” she looked deep into his eyes, as if it was the last time. Then she looked down the road. The morning mist was still thick in the air and there weren’t many people around. No red uniforms were in sight.
“Cora, if you already made a decision not to speak to me, I’m sure it won’t be hard to forget I exist.”
“But I don’t want to ignore you Jai, you’re no different from me or anyone else for that matter.” Her eyes were brimming with tears at the thought of denying someone’s existence because of a stupid law.
Jaihrus’s father worked for her uncle. The two had eaten from the same plate and bathed in the same tub. He was once her closest companion and confidante. Once.
“Go eat cake somewhere else,” he spat, got up and turned to walk away.
“Hey!” She grabbed the notebook he held and threw it across the street, before saying, “Don’t speak to me like that you lazy bum!” She spun him around and pushed him hard, so that he knocked against the old oak.
And if that wasn’t enough, she added, “You’re just jealous because I can go to school, and you can’t!”
“Oh, just shut up you brat!” he coughed.
Her eyes tried desperately to blink back tears. She sniffed and looked around for the books she dropped.
She turned to see the red uniform of Maestro Aziz.
The notebook was open in his palms. He stared hard at the pages. Her mind tried hard to find some sort of explanation. He shut the book.
“I see you got distracted. But your notebook redeems you. Here.”
Cora made sure she had a good grip on the book before saying, “it’s not mine. It’s Jaihrus’s.”
The Maestro pretended not to hear her. He dared not even look in the direction of the now bent over Jaihrus. Maestro Aziz walked away. Jaihrus’s coughing worsened. He managed to turn and spit in Maestro Aziz’s direction.
“Bring him to my office after school…” Cora gaped in disbelief. “And don’t forget his notebook. He has some interesting things to contribute to the…” trying to find the words, “nation enterprise”, saying the words with a tangibly disgusting slyness.
Jaihrus stared hard into the Maestro’s skull as he walked off.
Cora’s stomach churned. What had she done?
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