Telesa - The Covenant Keeper (7 page)

When the bell rang, there was a cheer from the Chunk Hunk’s team – as if they already knew they had won. Ms Sivani, held her hand up for silence and again the class went still immediately.

“Now, thank you – that will be enough of that riot. You all did very well today and I was pleased to see a good range of points covered. Apart from a few small digressions, you all stayed on topic quite well.”

“But Miss – tell us who won!” Of course it was the exuberant Maleko again who alone had the impetuosity to interrupt the unshakeable Ms Sivani. But instead of frowning she only gave him a patient smile.

“Alright, alright Maleko, of course there has to be a winning team, so I have to concede the affirmative team takes the win today.”

The last words were barely out of her mouth before they erupted into whooping cheers and those sitting around me groaned collectively. I stood to throw my bag over my shoulder, dying to get out of the room and breathe before I imploded. But the teams seemed in no rush to vacate the room, gathering instead in clusters to laugh and discuss the highlights of the morning’s debate. With my head down, I was pushing my way through the stifling pack of orange when there was a voice behind me.

“Hey wait up. Leila is it? Wait.”

It was the last person I wanted to talk to right now – the Chunk Hunk. I pretended I couldn’t hear him and redoubled my efforts to break free of the crowd. But he didn’t let up. I felt a hand grab hold of my backpack.

“Leila, hang on a minute, please.”

With a sigh, I turned, making sure to compose my features into the blandest expression possible.

“Yes?” my voice was clipped but my emotions were a swirling mass at the sight of him. I was angry. I hated him. But did he have to be so superb to look at?

He stood behind me, with Maleko at his side. Both smiling. Maleko spoke first, as usual.

“Great debate, ay Leila? I bet you don’t get such smooth talkers back where you come from ay?” A puzzled frown had him furrow his brow. “Hey, where DO you come from anyway?”

I didn’t want the Chunk Hunk to know anything about me, but it was impossible to be rude to Maleko – his eager smile and barely restrained enthusiasm for everything almost puppy like. I directed my reply to him.

“The States. Washington D.C.. Well Maryland really.” I self-corrected. And for some unknown reason, I continued, unwilling for them to assume, like Simone had, that I was some teenage delinquent sent here for straightening out. “I’m here for the summer holidays to visit my aunt and uncle.”

The Chunk Hunk smiled warmly at me, an easy smile that flecked his green eyes with gold highlights in the sun. “Great, well welcome to SamCo. I just wanted to say, nice debating. And I hope you didn’t take any of it personally. Are we ok?”

His mention of the debate had a wall of coldness crashing down, slicing off any desire I may have had for a conversation with them. “No. We aren’t. You know SOME of us are products of exactly that exploitative union you referred to. We aren’t all pure Samoans steeped in cultural richness and we happen to be proud of that mixed heritage. I don’t care if this was just a FUN debate, you shouldn’t go around saying stuff like that which can be so derogatory and offensive. Especially for those of us who have mixed parents.” My voice rose several octaves as I neared the end of my spiel and several students around us turned to listen. I didn’t realize I was trembling until I finished and I felt a huge weariness wash over me. What was I doing? Why was I wasting my time and effort arguing with this idiot? What did his opinion matter anyway? “Oh just forget it, you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. You’re just another pure Samoan steeped in high and mighty cultural richness.”

The Chunk Hunk looked confused and Maleko let out a surprised whoop as I turned away from them and pushed my way through the crowd and out the classroom door. I could hear people laughing as I half ran down the corridor, errant tears threatening to spill. I didn’t stop my rush until I was in the safety of the girls’ bathroom, where I threw cold water on my face. I felt like a fool, a marked woman and all I wanted to do was go home.

Back in the hall and under control of my emotions, I gripped my bag , resolving not to let anyone else get under my skin.
You’ve handled worse, Leila
I reminded myself.
You can do this
. So intent on my own private mental pep talk I almost bumped into the graceful Simone preening in the hall. He was alone. Waiting for someone. For me?

“Leila, there you are.”

I was in no mood to be gracious. “What?”

“What was that all about back there?”

“What was what?” deliberately obtuse.

Simone pursed his lips and shook his head at me, one manicured hand on his hip.

“Back there. That debate. Your attack on Daniel.”

I was so used to calling him the Chunk Hunk that I only looked confused.

“Huh? Who?”

“You know – Daniel – the Head Boy? Tall, GQ model beautiful?”

I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to concede I made the connection. Simone continued.

“You got kind of upset back there, don’t you think you were taking things a bit too personal? Don’t you have debates back home?” He looked impatient with my seeming ignorance. “I don’t know why you got so psycho at Daniel for.”

I stared out the window. Boys were on the field chasing a rugby ball. Girls stood laughing under a palm tree. It was all so alien to me. I was very much the foreigner here. And I felt it. A wave of homesickness swept through me. I shrugged at Simone, wishing he would just leave me alone.

“I guess so. I just didn’t like what he said about Westerners coming here to exploit people you know? I mean, I get so much crap from people back home about being mixed that hearing it here was just – I don’t know – I couldn’t handle it.”

Simone considered me thoughtfully before answering. “Maybe you should know something. The reason why we were all laughing when Daniel was going on about that was because he was talking about himself there. HE’S mixed like you. Like a lot of us. It’s no big deal here. We make fun of ourselves all the time. Daniel’s dad was
palagi
, white. And his mom wasn’t even full Samoan, she was mixed Tongan, so I guess that makes him even less of a pure cultural product than you.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The cold dread of realization washed over me as Simone continued.

“Maybe it’s different back where you come from, but here we’re all
afakasi
, mixed and it’s no big deal. Daniel gets teased about it all the time, especially since he’s part Tongan and historically Samoans and Tongans hate each other. Today, back there, he was talking about himself, which is why everybody was laughing.”

“Oh no.” I groaned, putting my head in my hands as it hit me that, once again, I had jumped in to attack mode on the pure assumption that I was being picked on. Humiliated? How many times had my dad warned me about this? How many times could I have avoided a conflict if I would just listen, take a breath and get my facts straight before I rushed to kill people?! I had wanted to reinvent myself, yet not even a week in this new school and already I had committed the same fatal error that was a classic Leila move. Glumly, I sighed.

“Thanks Simone for clearing that up. I appreciate it. I thought something else entirely was going on in the classroom back there and I kinda jumped too quickly. Everyone must think I’m a total freak now. Ugh. What an idiot.” With slumped shoulders I sat on a hall bench. Suddenly it occurred to me.

“Hey what do you care anyway? Why are you explaining this to me? What’s it to you?” My tone was suspicious and my eyes narrowed. What was this boy-girl’s agenda anyway?

Simone raised a perfect eyebrow at my burgeoning hostility.

“It’s not about you, trust me. I just don’t like to see anyone go off at Daniel like that. He doesn’t deserve it. So consider this a heads up or a warning, whatever way you want to take it. Next time you want to get aggressive, take it out on some other boy. Goodness knows there’s tons of others who are stupid enough to deserve it.” A sigh as Simone paused and continued, this time without any of his usual exaggerated mannerisms. “I’ve known Daniel since primary school and he’s different from a lot of the others. I know. I used to get picked on, you know, for being so ‘unique’,” a smile, “and Daniel looked out for me. Thanks to him, I made it through primary school in one piece. So, go easy on him okay.”

With that quizzical remark, Simone turned and flounced away. My audience with royalty was at its end. I shrugged, clutching my backpack close as I made my way down to the open courtyard for what was left of lunch period, hoping I hadn’t just lost the only friend I had made so far in this place. I thought about what Simone had revealed about the Chunk Hunk – Daniel – I amended in my mind. Somehow, after being mean to him when he hadn’t deserved it, made it wrong to keep calling him a brainless lout.
Oh well,
I conceded,
it didn’t really matter what I called him because, after today, I was sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about ever speaking to him again.
For a reason that I couldn’t name, that thought made me, regretful?

The rest of the day was uneventful. There was some whispering and laughter when I walked into History class, but I steeled myself against it with the reminder that people had far more exciting things to talk about than me and it was doubtful that I would be the source of their animated conversations. Last period was Library, which meant lots of time to sit and think, or – in Maleko’s case – lots of time to throw paper at the girls in the front row and fluster the fresh-faced young librarian with his generous smiles.
If nothing else, having boys like Maleko in the class meant an hour of library was never boring.

When the final bell rang, I was in a rush to get to the front bus stop, unwilling to run into any more people who wanted to remind me about the morning’s fracas. Standing at the main gate, a cluster of girls called out goodbye as I got on the first bus to arrive. Surprised, I surveyed them with a hint of suspicion but there was nothing but friendliness in their faces as they waved.

“See you tomorrow, Leila.”

Sitting on the bus, I could see the rugby team at practice. The now familiar shape of my debate nemesis clearly obvious as the bus pulled away from the school. Slumped back in my seat, I had mixed feelings about my emotion-saturated day. So I had embarrassed myself by attacking the school’s beloved demi-god Head Boy. An attack that had been somewhat unwarranted. But nobody seemed to be holding it against me. After all, Simone had said – most of the students were ‘just like me’, mixed-up teenagers. More than anything else, that gave me a shot of positivity. Maybe there would be a place for me at this school. Maybe, this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * * *

The next day I was resolved to be nice. Positive. Open minded. Heck, I was even willing to try smiling.
Or not. Maybe that was pushing it a bit.
The morning classes passed uneventfully. An ever-jolly and somewhat annoying girl called Sinalei shadowed me from class to class, filling my personal space with her chatter. Apparently she had decided that we should be friends. In another world, I would have sent her packing with a snarl, but I had promised. To be good. Nice. So, quite unlike me, I kept a smile that became more and more plastic as the day went on and the temperature began to soar. By lunch, I was ready to send myself to solitary confinement – just to escape her, but it was the heat more than anything that contributed to my building discomfort.

It had been getting hotter each day but today was unbearably humid. Uncle Tuala had warned it meant there would be a storm later on, but that offered me little comfort now as I sucked in the wet, steaming air, trying to find a pocket of coolness. I groaned when I checked the schedule and saw my first PE class would be after lunch. How could anyone stand to exercise in this weather?

Dragging my feet, I changed into the requisite uniform with the rest of the girls, and then slouched along behind them down to the far field, clutching my water bottle. I had already finished two litres of water but it didn’t seem to be doing me much good. Just walking to the field had my yellow shirt sweat soaked and sticking uncomfortably to my back. I was too hot to even stress about the stupid PE uniform, which should have been outlawed by any and all fashion police. A yellow cotton tee and an orange skirt over skimpy shorts. It was the shortest thing I’d ever worn and I still couldn’t reconcile such a revealing outfit with the strict Samoan dress codes. I was painfully aware that my legs were even skinnier in all their non-tanned glory, especially when standing beside the other girls.

Mr Otele the PE teacher was an ex-national hurdler. Or so Sinalei whispered. Which meant half the girls were simpering at his instructions. It also meant that he was an enthusiastic teacher who believed in getting involved in the day’s sports. Meaning I couldn’t hide behind a tree and go sit in the shade until the class was over. Nope. This teacher meant business.

“Right, let’s start with five laps around the field.” A collective groan. “Then bring it together and I’ll put you into teams for a game of touch.”

Touch? Okay, that sounded vaguely indecent. These people and their contradictory standards had me confused. Shaking my head, I joined the rest of the class as they started their lap around the field. I noticed that Simone was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, PE was not something that he did. Running in the blazing sun was a first for me but I resisted the urge to quit and slow to a stop like the others. The memory of my dad and I running our last 5k kept me pushing as, one by one, the others slowed to a stroll. Into the third lap, and the only people still running were me and a pocket of boys led by Mr Otele. There was an admiring glance from Maleko as I increased my tempo and easily overtook him on the last curve. He called out after me with a whoop.

“Hey Leila! You’re not supposed to overtake the running man. Hey!”

I could hear him gasping and puffing behind me as I accelerated at the last fifty meters. I threw him a smile over my shoulder as I sprinted to the finish of my last lap. Slowing to a walk, I was exultant as the adrenaline coursed through me. It had been months since I had last run. And it felt amazing. Even while wearing a ridiculous orange skirt. Mr Otele called us all in and several of the boys complimented me as we gathered under the mango tree.