“Should you ever catch a glimpse of Sara's shadow in class after a lecture, just know that her name has stopped being Sara.” I deduced after two years of keenly observing Sara.
Sara was the perfect definition of busy 24/7. Before now, I used to wonder what she really did. I remember her to be a bookworm from year one — of course, all thanks to my prying eyes that hungrily scouted her results now and then. However, I still felt that apart from burying her head in her books, Sara had other things up to her sleeve.
My curiosity got the better hold of me when at the start of our third year in the University, Sara missed a presentation for the first time. She rushed into the lecture hall twenty minutes into time, panting heavily, beads of sweat on her forehead.
The course lecturer, Professor Dickson did the most absurd thing that day. He threw hurtful words at her and walked her out of the class. Sara, beaten by embarrassment, could not hold her tears as she took a shameful walk out of the class.
He continued blabbing. In his words, we were unserious and didn't know what we wanted in life. He diverted to speaking ill things about our future. I swallowed. That wasn't necessary. But who was I to speak?
After the long, tiresome presentation, I dragged my feet out of the class, hoping to land in my bed soon. I froze at what I saw outside. Sara was seated at the other end of a group of chatting students, looking withdrawn and pale.
I decided to extend a hand of care. Maybe, friendship could be birthed, I thought to myself. I strolled to her and greeted her warmly. She looked up, and with a feigned smile, she uttered a response. I understood her. Who'd miss a presentation from Professor Dickson and smile broadly?
Not many words were exchanged between us. We, somehow, felt comfortable with the silence that stretched between us. Or maybe I didn't know what to say. When she announced that she was leaving, she asked if we could walk to the hostel together. I gladly jumped up.
Two weeks later, my friendship with Sara had grown into something genuine. We had just gotten out of a hectic lecture that day and when I requested, we went cooling off at my favourite eatery.
That day, Sara told me all I needed to know.
“As a student coming from a humble home, it hasn't been easy trying to navigate my way through school.” She laughed dryly. “It's been crazy.”
I didn't show any sign of surprise, although I was. I knew that there were students who worked to earn a living, but I never thought Sara was part of them. The more she spoke that day, the more I realized how much of a jewel she was.
Sara took a bite of her meat pie before resuming the conversation. “While I use the remaining hours after lectures for private tutorials with secondary school students and also year one students, my midnights are for study. That's how campus life has been for me.”
I was too stunned for words. If I still remember, Sara's previous GPA (Grade Point Average) was 4.35. I gave myself an inner punch.
‘Girl, you don't work, nor do you do any sort of hard work; why is your CGPA still suffering?’
I looked at Sara and a new feeling arose. She was a treasure; a heroine. She was gradually becoming my role model.
“But, how do you do it?” I asked.
She stopped with a mouthful of meat pie, giving me curious eyes.
“I mean, with all you've told me. Like, tutoring, working online; how do you manage to hit such a high GPA every semester?”
Sara forced a smile. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I just learn to plan my day. Simple.”
Weeks later, I would soon learn that things weren't as easy as Sara projected them to be. She still had to struggle her way to settle her fees and other increasing bills at school. Most times she had to borrow some of my materials to read, as she could not afford to buy every lecture material. Yet, topping the class was a piece of cake for her.
At the end of that semester, I was surprised at how easy it was to answer my exam questions. Not one and not two, almost all the courses appeared like ABC. Sara's presence in my life made the difference.
After the examinations, I invited her for a little celebration. I wanted us to have a beautiful moment before we both travelled to our respective homes. As we dug into our meal in a little chit-chat, I watched as she kept checking the pink watch on her wrist. I knew she wasn't admiring it, so I had to ask when she checked for the umpteenth time.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes. Tutorials,” she replied. “They must be waiting for me now.”
I was taken aback. “Aren't you going home for the break?”
She revealed a shocker. “I've only gone home twice.” An innocent smile followed. “I've got work to do here.”
I became still. Her last words stirred something within me. That sunny afternoon at The Kings Eatery, I resolved in my heart that I had not just gotten a new friend, but I'd also utilize my holiday to improve my catering skills. And upon resumption, I would make returns from it. I would relieve my parents of a little financial burden, and, I would support my friend, Sara. I'd give her the life she couldn't give herself. At least for now.
© Delightedpen
