Chapter 1
The cozy khaki-uniformed security guards at their desk sipping jasmine tea -- I suppose – looked up from their South China Morning Post paper and nodded their hellos to three Delia School of Canada students who just arrived to the first day of a new school year. It was September 2006, and at that time, my life was taking a weird turn. These three pupils had nothing peculiarly weird happening to them; they were rich. They were so rich the insolvency of my family would be just a little microscopic stain in their otherwise, clean dynasties of wealth. They were girls; with no penchant for the expensive things, unlike all the heiresses in this universe.
Though they were rich, they weren't trust fund babies grown up having been platinum spoon-fed, being carried as babies in designer prams, or taken to school in a Phantom or on a Chanel bicycle. There is such thing as a Chanel bicycle – ask Jennifer Aniston.
Stella and Eyakho were sisters, and Vina was their cousin, as well as my own best friend. In fact, I'm quite close to all of them, even before I left Hong Kong to go home to South Africa for good (unwillingly), until this July 2007 when my father got a posting to Paris, which turned out to be such a false alarm we were almost driven to bankruptcy. That was a close shave. In Hong Kong, I was semi-popular, especially when I had my hair braided with blonde Japanese silk extensions. All the guys I ever been friends with were hogging me on the last night of my stay, offering to say bye at the airport.
"We will be here still, raising enough money for a return ticket for you to come back here. We'll even get the girls involved," one of them, Chase Edwardson (the ringleader) said. Needless to say, my father couldn't believe what he saw.
"That would be very much appreciated, man." I told him. Like it was my last hour on Earth, the guys hugged me all at once, to the astonishment of their girlfriends. Oh yes, they had girlfriends, so I sure didn't dare trespass. "I can't believe this."
"Neither can I, chum. " Vina said, sadly. "I'm gonna miss you so bad. I'm gonna miss waking you up ka five in the morning. Why does she have to go, Mr. Makatu?" I don't know why she was asking him; my dad didn't know either. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to her chest. She was a bit shorter than me, but she could hug anyone regardless of size or physical appearance, like a big teddy bear. "I hope that while you're gone, you're still going to remember that we rule this city."
"I'll always remember that. Anyway, you'll be fine. We'll see each other again. In this case, I'll be at your lavish pad in like two weeks." What I should have said was: "You lucky rich buggers! You get to stay here, while I'm getting deported. I feel like I've taken a million steps back, and I'm not sure if you should even feel sorry for me!" But going against my true yet nasty nature and better judgment, I decided not to say that.
Vina was also close to getting deported back to SA, but her tantrums that promote "my rights, my needs, Papa et Maman" guaranteed her three more years in Asia's world city. Her father Mr. Tshepo Naledi is pretty much scared of her when she gets mad, so he just lets her have what she wants. Even if she wants to stay in Hong Kong, and it always costs him a couple hundred thousand rand, because Vina prefers to change the currency herself. Kick-ass and dynamic, this Miss Naledi.
We're almost alike; we fought each other's enemies and we made them kiss our All Stars and Adidas 3-stripes as an extra, after their defeat. We entertained the commuters on the MTR every afternoon from school with our gestures and 2-steps, 3-steps, 4-steps and even 10-steps. Together, we owned, rocked, changed and ruled the city of Hong Kong. Even though we've never been to IFC Tower a lot – quoting from the blog we made on MySpace – we knew each night it lit up for us, and we could see it from my study window. If you wanted to know, our blog is under the title "Two Black Girls in Hongs". That was our standing ovation.
It was salty tears and sweet grapes when I left that life to inherit a sickish one. If only politics, government rules and Immigration weren't so hard for a teenage expatriate – now a repatriated soul – like myself to understand.
I thought my dad knew people in high places. Turns out he did, they just were wankers and fools with chunky gold jewelry, bad stubble and sausages for fingers and – maybe – toes.
My dad works hard (hard to believe), he's just so trifled and tossed around like a cheap doll so he uses all the wrong methods to forget what had just happened in his life. Working for four girls is such a feat, I wonder how he does it. With a serious frown and silence, he does. Now he and my mother are just waiting for me to grow up, get an excellently paid job, find a house, and maybe take Titi along with me, so they can just look after Katu and Fari. You have a long way to wait.
So now I am enrolled at a girls' private school in downtown Boksburg of Ekhurhuleni, and my parents are dying just trying to pay the school fees. After digging deeper, I have come with a revelation. Delia's school fees for a month are worse, at six thousand dollars and there are ten months in a school year. You do the maths, math and MLMMS – that's SA government-school math for you. I am coping and trying not to be unpopular again, among a school of girls with all that social status to make me cry. One of them has made me cry already. Bad start.
"Miss Diss and Three Quarters is back in the building under apartment blocks!" Vina introduced herself when she met up with Dan and Chase. The two Grade 11's looked up and got down on their knees and hailed her. Stella shook her head in disbelief. "I am back to do these following; learn, flirt maybe, educate these Hongkies in the art of hip hop and probably start commotion on the MTR and Cityplaza. You know how I do."
"What about your other half?" asked Chase. He was referring to me.
"Went to see her during the hols, and she's coping. But she wishes she were here with us. She broke down one time and went as far as calling us 'lucky rich buggers'. I told her that at least these lucky rich buggers love her."
"Wow, that's sweet."
"Okay… she misses us so much it's not funny anymore. She says she's miserable without us, and it has worsened since she couldn't find the Sims 2 manual so she couldn't play it. I'm actually surprised she's still alive."
"Brave girl." Dan commented on a sarcastic tone.
"Hey now! Don't start. Ce n'est pas juste, pour Chilli.Elle est ma petite piment!" Vina protested in my defence. Just so you know, piment is French for chilli, and she sometimes even shortened it down to Pim. That is cute, I can admit. But check what other names can come out of that one. "Chilli lived off the Sims 2 like plants to chlorophyll, like seriously. Going without her Sims is reason to go trip down to Insanity. So yes, she actually is brave."
"Big talk." Eyakho said. "So how is the fundraising for Chilli's return ticket going?"
"Not easy. Seems some of these Grade 8's of last year don't want her to come back. I don't even know why we consulted them." Chase said, scratching his nose.
"Lies. You stalling, Chay! You ain't even started. Chilli will never get to come back here. It would take her a millennium of dedication to raise money. You know air tickets are so hard to get these days, you have to fight someone in the airport to get one." Eyakho said.
"I know why." Stella said.
"Why air tickets are so rare?" Chase wondered.
"No, man! Why Chase couldn't find a better excuse?" Eyakho asked. "Talk all your mouths can keep up; I'm going upstairs to find Soph and Benign." Eyakho said, walking towards the stairs that went up to the Secondary Section classrooms. She was about to step on the stairs when a figure came down, and was in her way. She looked up and saw a black guy looking at her with the same kind of mixed and confused expression that she had herself. She quickly moved away, but he moved also. She moved to the other side again, but then he moved also.
"Am I the only one who thinks she looks stupid?" Dan said.
"That definitely makes the two of us." Chase said, looking on as Eyakho tried the sweet girl with the guy on the stairs. "Vina, you don't look so okay. Are you jealous it's not you over there? Or are you suffering from cute-boy withdrawal?"
"Shut up, Chase."
"Can you tell me what's up? I'm kinda lost here." Dan said.
"Vina is technologically retrenched," said Chase. "Her dad took her phone away after he found out she was chatting to that New York guy on her WAP."
"Well, why must you care?" Vina snapped back. Turning to Dan, she said, "And if you dare join in with him, you will regret it."
"I care," Chase said. "Because I'm the first person you were virtually crying to – over your dad's boring Yahoo – that your phone was confiscated.
"It was a Nokia N91, Vina! 3000 songs! Slick, silver casing design! Better than an iPod, Vina! And you got it confiscated… by your dad! You are never gonna see that phone ever again, so start asking for donations."
"I knew that phone was gone forever as soon as my dad's driver locked it up in the mainframe of the Phantom. The driver and I really don't get along. He's like my father's right-hand man. He probably goes around killing off competition on the JSE, for all I don't know. What can explain where all this money is coming from?"
"He got his driver to do it? Dude… that is…"
"BEE lethargy!" Stella, Chase, Dan and Vina said altogether.
"Gosh," Stella said. "Eyakho does look like an idiot. Warning, this always happens whenever sex gods like that one are around. It's like something out of a teen flick."
"I guess Chilli would love to write about Ey's boy-nuts ways." Vina added.
"Even though a narration of our lives through Chilli's pen wouldn't be so best-selling, it could beat High School Musical any day of the month." Stella purred. "Since the soundtrack went platinum, people like us have been forgotten." Vina eyed Stella to shut her up. "Don't tell me you're a fan! Vina—"
"Heck no! Please." Vina rolled her eyed and pouted her lips. "I only watch it for Zeke and Chad. They make me stand to attention!" Stella smirked. "What, did you think I'd say Troy? Girl, that's naff. C'est débile."
"Can I tell you who looks like Chad in real life?"
"Please do!" Dan exclaimed.
"Don't start, please. Hey, I even said please. I don't want to talk about him. News spreads quickly around here, suddenly everybody knows… 'Oh Vina has a boyfriend, and no girl it's not Dan—"
"I'm not really happy it's not Dan." Dan said, quite sadly. The thing is; Dan has once tried to ask Vina out, but she rejected him, mainly because she met someone else on holiday with me in New York. I'm not rich; she is and she could afford it so she dragged me along.
"Anyways; they will be saying stuff like 'Ja, it's about time she found someone… blah bladiblah, whatever! I'd never show my face in Hong Kong teen society ever again. Everywhere I'd go, I would get stares. I can't take that kind of pressure."
"You are a worry wart, you know. I thought I was the worst when it came to fronting. You take the cake now. What are you on?"
"Nothing but ground." Vina replied blandly.
"Wena, you suck." Stella said, after a while of absorbing Vina's dry diss. "Aw shame, did you leave your dissing formula behind with Chilli's sisters?"
"I don't know. My disses are irrelevant to their situation. I suppose I have them here."
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Eyakho was perhaps having the time of her life talking to this ebony mould of manness, hotness and perfection. Stella was like 'please, be so typical, why don't you?' and Vina wasn't looking anymore. Especially when the hottie's brother came down the stairs to see him. She took one look at him, and left the scene to head for the tuck shop. Is she fleeing? I thought she could take any guy on.
"Hey Sphiwe." Dan said, greeting the guy. "I told you Island wasn't worth it."
"Sure," said the younger version of Ey's new soul mate. "Who was that who just left?"
"That's Vina, my cousin. I know what you want, and the closest you could ever get is her companionship and nothing more." Stella said, amiably. Sphiwe shrugged. "What's that guy's name?"
"Oh, my brother?" asked Sphiwe, indifferently. "Her name is Ayanda."
"You don't look like him. Are you sure he's you bro—"
"Please," Ayanda said. "He is." I don't think he was happy with that. "Don't interrogate him. He attacks if you do." Sphiwe didn't seem to agree, but whatever.
"Okay," Eyakho said, irrelevantly. Vina came back and handed Stella a Nestle Honey Pear Tea. Stella smiled at her, and winked, numerously.
"Is that some kind of nervous twitch? Stella, you need to get that checked out by a GP."
"Oh, shut your mouth."
"Okay fine, diss me." Vina said, moodily. "Yo, what's up?" she asked Sphiwe.
"Nothing special, just a new student, that's all." Pff, he didn't need to tell her that, it was obvious.
"Ah! Tu es un nouvel élève! Bienvenue à DSC, copain!" Vina said, kind-heartedly. Now Sphiwe doesn't understand French which is a sea of tacks on a busy road.
Vina seemed to notice his distress, so she translated, "Welcome to DSC." She smiled. Sphiwe smiled back and said, "Thanks." The bell rang, alarming Veens to check which class she was in.
"Folks, I have to check which class I'm in before something happens." She did, and it was 9C.
Oh, a C-class once again. They've figured I like the C so much, she thought, as she looked at the big chart with all the high school class lists. The monotony. Everyone from last year's classes were dragged back again into the same classes. 8A became 9A and 8C definitely became 9C. Returning to the Secondary Section side, she caught up with Adele and Sapphire from 9A; Desire, Alicia, Petra and Joyce from 9B. Colourful group of girls, they are.
Adele, Sapph and Petra had dumb brothers, and Joyce was cursed with a Mensa member of a sister. That's a huge blow to being on the Honour Roll, because then she'll have to size up to the big sis.
Deez and Leesh were just lucky to be going it alone. Then, their parents were money wise, and aware of their happiness, and it doesn't always come in babies.
Adele is African-American, Petra is Russian, Sapphire is North Korean (but her bro Do-hyun was conceived in Seoul), Joyce is Filipino-American (and the maids around Mid-Levels called her American Adobo), Alicia is Puerto Rican, and Desire is Spanish. Strange.
On a normal day, Petra Alekseev and Desire Thompson were the only blondes in the whole big circle of friends, unless Desire decided to dye her hair an ungodly colour, like copper (any), peroxide, pink (for Halloween), Emo black, skinny-jean blue; the whole rainbow. I'm surprised her scalp is still as good as everyone says. I will search her hair. What is her secret?
And the girls' brothers? Goofballs in their own right. Dimitry Alekseev, Keith Thomas-Langford and Do-hyun Park can never get girlfriends because these days, a lady's IQ is so high, these boys are simply intolerable. It would be even worse if they got equally stupid girlfriends…
Shifting over to the complete anti-thesis, Brittany Tucson is the very pretty but never noticed one, who succeeds Homework Completion In Advance, all the time. And she's not showing off, she just knows more than any of you. Though I have a feeling her name led you to believe she was a plastic. Nice try. She's nowhere looking like one, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. She is smarter, more disciplined and more refined. Joyce is like a loose cannon compared to Britt, and will need refining. Brittany is the perfect dinner host if she's having dignitaries from a potential university over, to talk about a scholarship.
Enough said.
"Hey you guys." Vina said to the girls, as she met on the first floor.
"Hi, Miss Diss!" Adele said. "And how is Miss Diss today?"
"I'm cool."
"Are you sure? You suffered a big breakdown in June, so you know us, we're on our toes. A bit alarmed."
"Yes, but there is a problem."
"What?" said the alarmed ones. Vina sighed and looked away, feeling sympathy for herself. "Can you not come out with it or we'll have to Sevens-tackle you to the ground for an answer."
"My dad… you know how my dad is –"
"No…" Petra gawked. "Do you want us to call Child line in SA? It's 08-six hundred-five zeroes, right?" Vina eyed her with a 'don't-be-stupid' look.
"No man! He made me get these heavy braces." Vina opened her mouth in a bland smile to reveal platinum-barred teeth. Her braces were horrifyingly hot pink. I can understand her obscure disappointment, she's not a real pink gal. "And they're pink. Goodness no!"
"NaNa… shame… " Sapphire sympathized.
"And what's worse? He chose the colour." Vina said, terrifyingly.
"Are we the first that you're complaining to about 'is?" asked Adele. Vina paused, and replied, "Look on the way to school, I was fine and I completely forgot about them. But that was out the door as soon as I bit my tongue by mistake, and it hurt like a ton! And there was the part where I was silently, mentally howling in pain on the train. It felt like my tongue had gone through the laminator!"
"Ugh! Say no more," Alicia said, covering her ears. "When did you get those teenage grills?"
"Yesterday." Vina muttered.
"Yesterday? There must be a rule against that! No wonder they hurt so much!" Adele said.
"Hmm yeah, bra. My dad dragged me through the mud – figuratively – to Heng Fa Chuen, to some dodgy orthodontist with plastic teeth. I mean it! When he smiled, it was like something gone wrong from the Mattel Inc. production line! Un desastre! But what I am just so pissed off about is that he had to go to Heng Fa Chuen! Of all places, there! One of those squeezed-in-between places that aren't highly publicized. That is far from my personal jurisdiction. Therefore, Mr. Naledi will appear in the Supreme Court of Mine next year."
"Girl, stop frontin'! It's Heng Fa Chuen. What, that's like two MTR stations away from here!" Sapphire said. Vina pouted.
"Mhmm, girl, that's the MTR. He decided we should walk from our hotel in Causeway Bay, to save thirty-plus dollars in taxi fare! Miser!" Vina fronted. Joyce rolled her eyes and huffed.
"Ha! Mr. Naledi walks?"
"Hm, actually he does. I didn't think he would kick out of his Black Economically Empowered lethargy but he did, I'm amazed, but I will give him what for if he decides something like my eyesight. I swear if he tells me I am blind; I will abolish all his eyewear! J'abimerai!"
"In the Queen's English, please." Petra purred.
"I will run rampage."
"Is he gone?"
"Yes, he left this morning. Duty thankfully called back in the deteriorating motherland, and now I am happily fatherless for a few months until Christmas."
"So how is Chilli-Chilli-Chilli?" asked Adele.
"She is living in misery! Stuck in a school with stringent rules and the most gothic uniform in winter; she is not enjoying herself a lot!"
"Is she still alive?" inquired Desire.
"Yes."Vina said, slightly offended for me.
"Brave girl." Joyce said, repeating Dan's statement. "In that tiny townhouse, damn! She's my hero!"
"Ha, I'll tell her tonight you said hello."
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In the principal's office in the seriously Elementary Section of DSC's Taikoo Shing Campus, a wavy red-haired woman in a white lady suit and black Louis Vuitton thick platform heels was looking out her window, that looked over the courtyard. She looked forty, and she didn't wear a lot of makeup. I can see where she's coming from. Less is more, but when you're in charge of a school, you have to pull out all the stops!
The lady stood there looking outside to the junior high folks getting in line. The door to her office was opened and in walked an almost elderly but highly opulent-looking woman of about sixty. She had black trench coat on her arm and a briefcase in the other had. She had raven black hair and awfully thin and rosy lips.
"Augustina," said the elderly woman. "I want to talk to you."
"Sure, what is on your mind?" asked Mrs. Thompson in a rich Canadian accent, if you could ever spot one. She is the new principal of DSC, who had just succeeded Mr. Johnston, who took over from Mr. Thibodeau.
"The uniform. We need to tell them today."
"But why do you even want to surprise them now? They just got back from two months of holiday in their cold hometowns, and the last thing they deserve is to be told that we're changing—"
"It's a dire situation, Aug!"
"Wasn't it enough when we changed the skirts last year?"
"No."
"You are very stubborn, Amelia." Mrs. Thompson said, blandly.
"You are going to announce it over the intercom—"
"That is cruel! Say it that way because we're too scared to tell it to their faces? I will hold an assembly this afternoon. But if you want to break it to them, you tell them yourself." Mrs. Thompson said. She turned her back on Amelia Warre and continued, "Who is the principal here?"
"I thought you knew that."
"I thought you didn't, so that's why I'm asking." A man in a grey tailored suit opened the door and walked in. Both the women's heads turned.
"Mr. Vienneau, what brings you here?" asked Mrs. Thompson.
"You better not attempt something stupid like that, announcing to change the uniform after it's been in progression for only six lame years."
"I'm not going to."
"What side are you on? Are you rooting for the reputation and status of this school or your happiness?"
"Gee Amelia, try. Try and guess what we're pining for," came Mrs. Thompson's somewhat sarcastic remark. "Please just leave me alone."
"You can't be corrupt like that."
"I'm not corrupt and you know. Corrupt is a principal who proposes to do something that is really a major waste of time, and there you go."
"Mr. Vienneau, I advise you leave because Augustina and I are engaging into an extremely obese argument, and I don't think you deserve to get involved."
"I have as much right as you to stay and be involved." Mr. Vienneau said, folding his arms. "I'm not sure if you know that if you argue with Mrs. Thompson, your position can be given to someone else less short-fused. Mrs. Thompson can take this power of yours away, so just cut it out."
"What is the racket?" shouted a teacher who must have come across the very polite but sharp-tongue fight these people were having. "You guys couldn't be any louder!"
"Ms. Garreth, please just leave!"
"I'm not leaving till I find out why you folks are arguing like teenagers. Have you lost your minds? You're disrupting all the classes upstairs as far as things go. Keep it down please. Better yet, stop it!"
"Ms. Garreth, just let it rest, and go back up to your class."
"I'm not going anywhere." And the huggermugger continues.
While the four were verbally and euphemistically beating each other down, class 11A were causing mirth. The scene was just a whole ayoba smorgasbord. It didn't matter how pale or dark velvet these people were, everyone was dancing like pantsulas back home in SA.
Eyakho and her girl friends Benika Yoshimura and Sophia Knightley were dancing and leading the class with their hands. Almost everyone was participating in the hyping-up of the homeroom atmosphere, except one who I had mentioned earlier. Brittany Tucson. She was lolling against the wall, arms folded and with a line for a mouth. Feeling a tad stood up and betrayed, because her close crony was joining in the little back-to-school jubilation.
All of a sudden, the classroom door opened and in walked the 11A homeroom teacher, Ms. Loren. The party lost its cheer, student by student. Even the music stopped. Eyakho, Benika and Sophia were left standing on the chairs. Ms. Loren stared at her class in a disbelieving state of mind. The freeze-frame scene and scared silence of the students lasted almost half an eternity until Ms. Loren snapped out of it and blurted out:
"What… the HELL are you doing on those desks? This is not a strip joint!" Ms. Loren angrily slammed her messenger bag on her desk and coarsely dragged her chair across the floor, then sat down. "You three girls were really convincing; you almost made me think you worked down at the bars in Wanchai, on the side." All that said with a frown. She was so out of it. Everyone was too shocked to even say hot damn because Eyakho and they got dissed, and the girls were too shocked to be embarrassed.
A few things you should know about Frances Loren; she's a pretty face, she is kind when treated right (like those touchy Persian cats); she is hazardous when screwed up; she is a short-fused, tall woman at 1.85m. That pretty much sums it up because that's all you ever need to know about her.
"You all just had to dampen my spirits. It's my first time teaching Grade 11's at a co-ed school, and Mrs. Thompson had gone to lengths to show me that eleventh graders are well-behaved and a pleasure to get trapped in a room with. Well, from this point, I believe it will be a pressure!" Everyone thought it in their best interest to take a seat, as they were trying to be a bit respectful. There was just silence because no one knew what to do, and they were all looking at each other for help. Ms. Loren had her eyes closed, deep in meditation. Her mantra was "I will get through today successfully". She finally opened her eyes, and scanned the room of scared-for-their-school-careers-so-much-right-now Grade 11's. The crew of thirty-three were probably praying to their God, and their friends' gods, that this day will end well, Ms. Loren will go home, treat herself, have a good sleep and come back tomorrow and forget what happened. Or even better, she will resign on the spot, and run away, never to be heard of, again.
"Desperately putting what has just happened behind us, let's begin with today. I have you for double Math but we'll discard that for now until I get my mind de-cluttered. Hello, I am Ms. Loren and I will be your homeroom teacher for the damn rest of the year." She said, trying to keep her cool. "You must be my beloved class… oh joy… I think I'm gonna have to draw up a list of things that will not go unnoticed here. I can't tolerate what I've seen. I promise it will never happen again, even when I'm not around to watch. I won't care if it's the last day of your school careers or it's your great-gran-in-Japan's birthday, you will not jump onto the desks and make an utter fool of yourselves. You behave like American public-high-school dropouts when the teacher is out."
Do-hyun whispered over to Benika, "Well… we don't always." In the silence that was in the classroom, that whisper was loud. Ms. Loren looked directly at them, and said, "Oh hello there. Do you wanna voice your teenage and biased opinion up here?"
"No, Ms. Loren."
"What did you just say then?" asked Ms. Loren. She trapped him in. Do-hyun, complete with good looks, smart face (but tiny brain) and a damaged arm due to excessive skateboarding in Quarry Bay Park; stood up and prepared to make an announcement.
"Ms. Loren, what you had witnessed just now is just a little over expression of our happiness. Nothing more than that."
"What could you teens be possibly happy about?" Ms. Loren was just not believing this one, even if it were one side of the truth.
"That we're back together with our friends after two long and dragging months," said a girl named Farah Yo. "And also that there's this new song from South Africa. You should hear it, it's hot." Everyone nodded truthfully.
"South Africa?" Ms. Loren sounded very interested. "Okay, let me hear it."
"Sure, but if you don't like it—" Wing Ting was yanked down by Sophia.
"Don't make her mad again! We've already done enough with our stripperdancing!" Sophia barked. Ey stood up and gave Ms. Loren her iPod to criticize the song. She even stood around for a seal of approval. Ms. Loren handed back the iPod only three seconds after and said, "You're sort of accurate. I don't like it." Wing Ting rolled her eyes.
"Ms. Loren, how old are you?" asked Eyakho, blandly. Ms. Loren replied, "I'm twenty—three." The class had to gasp and start to murmur.
"So what is she into?" asked Ayanda to Sophia.
"Probably some funky-ass ancient motown or jazz, I assume." Sophia suggested.
"I prefer something like Katie Melua, UB40," At the mention of that, groans were emitted. "George Benson…"
"Just like I said, the funky-ass ancient motown stuff."
"Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon, Jack Johnson, Fiona Apple, and yeah! Those are my favourites!"
"Dude, that is messed-up! Mr. Smith is like thirty-three years old and he listens to Avril Lavigne and Rihanna." Said one of the students out loud.
"Well, I'm not this Mr. Smith. Take me as I am, and I will not disown you because of what you just did." Ms. Loren retorted.
"Always about what happened, eish! This woman! She is never gonna let it go." Eyakho said to herself. "Mom is definitely twice herage, but you'll never find that on her iTunes library."
"How do you know that?" asked Benika.
"She left her virus-infested laptop here before he left, and I had a little look in, and I found Atomic Kitten. Not just one song, but three!" This is definitely shock of the world. "Ms. Loren, do you know who Beyoncé Knowles is, at least?"
"Yes, that lady with the incredibly traffic-distracting hips? Well, she's quite a screamer. Damaged my ears when she first went solo." That angered most of the class. First days at school are not anyone's favourites anyway.
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