You done?" a teenage boy asked, sitting beside his friend. "I kept looking at you in the hall. Why didn't you look at me? Why didn't you come yesterday?"
"I was ill," Hina lied.
"Ill? Sorry about that. Have you thought about which university you'll choose? I chose Hallwads English University—they'll be starting exams soon."
"Really? That's good. I haven't thought about mine yet," Hina replied.
"I kept looking for you yesterday. Everyone's been asking the ones they like for prom. Come, let me show you something, Hina," Jacob said, standing up. "Or wait here don't go anywhere. Promise me you won't move."
She nodded, waiting.
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here if it isn't the loser, Hina Jonathan," a voice sneered behind her.
Not again, bitch, Hina thought. "Listen, Mozela, I'm not in the mood for your nonsense. Run along, Satan."
Mozela stepped closer, smirking. "Says the girl whose mother slept with her own sister's husband. Guess rotten fruit doesn't fall far from the tree."
"At least my mom wasn't a low-self-esteem, shameless slut who needed someone else's husband just to feel wanted," Mozela added, giggling with her friends.
Jacob returned, glaring at Mozela before grabbing Hina's hand. "Come on."
"Sore losers," Mozela muttered. "We'll get them later especially Hina."