✮Ｓｔｅｐｈａｎｉｅ✮

CH.16: CONFESSIONS

She was wearing a pink cargo pants, a white, cropped sweat shirt with pink markings on it, and sleek white sneakers. Her straight, black hair was packed into a neat ponytail with two streaks of hair hanging on both sides of her face. She had costly bracelets and rings all around her hands and some of them contained real precious stones. Her expensive clothes were fancy enough to make anyone feel intimidated. Although, she frequently wore outfits as simple as a top on a skirt, they often looked costly and she never repeated the same clothes.

Her aura was distinctive from the others—highly charismatic. How can one female possess such endearing charms? I continuously quizzed myself on why Emlyn would ever refuse a girl like her considering her noble status.

Nicole McGuire sat side-by-side with me on the bench, her shoulders poised and her forearm leaning gently on her thighs with much dexterity.

I watched her closely and observed the amazing aura. She seemed like a perfect picture of all I had ever wanted.

"Nice." she said without looking at my face; her head was held up high like a proud peacock.

"Thanks," I responded and my face twitched in timidity. Arthur mustn't see us together.

"I know you don't want me around you. You don't need to hide it."

"What?" I silently asked.

"They've fed you with defamatory statements about me-arrogant, wild, sassy... evil." I looked intently at her and she turned to look into my face and my face twitched again. "You know, humans are really good at judging you when they do not really know you, you know, behind the scenes." Nice stage pun.

To me, she was only speaking parables.

"People are fond of judging you without having knowledge of your backstory and the cause of your actions and attitude. They simply judge foolishly."

"People don't need to know your backstory to be licenced to judge you," I snapped. I had been awaiting the perfect moment to prove my smartness to her; everything I did to esteem myself highly before her. Suddenly, the spirit of competition was hovering in the atmosphere.

I continued, "it is those actions and attitudes that you make visible to them that they judge you based on. If you are mean to people, yes, they will be quick to label you as mean. They don't need to know your backstory or the cause of your actions to sympathize with you."

"Hmm, you speak like one whose parents are tough moralists."
Yeah, such stereotypical statements of Nigerian parents.

"Humph. So, what's your backstory? Will you tell me about it?" I focused the whole of my body and mind on her and flustered my eyelashes at her amiably. She equally laughed relaxingly and fully faced me.

"Well, I grew up in a supes wealthy family—like filthy rich. My mom is a fashion designer, one of the best in the country, but her divorce with my dad has almost taken her out of the spotlight. My family is not only rich but talent flows in our blood."

Gradually, I was getting soaked into the conversation.

"When I was much younger, I used to be a sad little girl with zero friends. Money isn't really the answer to everything 'cause if it were, I certainly would not have been bothered about my parents' constant dispute or that they were too busy for me.

"My dad is the one who terrifies me like hell... Like hell! He's so austere in his ways and I guess he's that much of a disciplinarian because both his parents are strict soldiers."

She said, "He never desired for me to go to a private school, he says he wants me to learn to live like a normal kid. Actually, he opposed my career and fame at this age. He detests it when I get any special attention and he's basically all about discipline, some crazy moralist he is. He says he won't allow fame make me forget where I come from—a family that's all about doing what is right irrespective of your status.