The ORION Project | ✔

chapter 2

Grace marched, determined. Her footsteps low against the concrete stairs, she was grateful for the shoes she wore, the building housed the offices of lecturers from the department of human kinetics and except if one wanted to incur the wrath of the professors and doctors then it was advisable to ensure decorum. Her high from earlier had faded totally, she was reminded how things always became so sour for her. At least now, she could stomp her foot in all rage without raising alarm, all thanks to her soundless converse.

She was never allowed a moment of rest or joy before reality came swooping down to slap her in the face. She was beginning to think she was cursed.

In her haze of rage and shame she was ignorant of the fast approaching steps until the stranger careened straight into her, almost knocking her to the ground. At the last minute, she pulled into the warmth of a male chest. The subtle scent of sweat and spicy cologne hit her pleasantly in the nose.

She drew back with a fierce scowl, it was a facade to the tears threatening to bubble to the surface. As her gaze collided with the strangers, her anger faded slightly giving way to curiosity and awe.

"You are white." She said. It was the stranger's turn to scowl at her. That was probably not the right thing to say.

"I'm Asian, I'm far from white." He snapped.

He had the strangest eyes she had ever seen, one was a gray colour and the other was a dark brown. Heterochromia, Grace recalled, an anatomical condition in which multiple pigmentations or colorings occur in the eyes, skin or hair.

Those eyes glared at her, he had the palest skin too, and a small mouth that suited his features. He was handsome but he reminded Grace of a delicate flower and his hair was a chestnut colour. He was skinny too, Grace's paternal grandmother would have taken one look at him and stuffed his face with lots of food. She used to say to whoever cared to listen, no one finds beauty in bones. She took it as her responsibility to fill the stomachs of everyone around her.

"I can see that." She snapped. Her anger slowly returning in waves, apologize now, the reasonable part of her head told her.

"Can you?" He snorted. God, He even sounded delicate and like royalty. Grace racked her brain and tried to remember if she had seen him around, granted, the university was big and there was a slim chance she had ever seen him but he looked familiar and he sounded familiar.

"You definitely cannot, especially since you crashed into me." He reminded scornfully. He spoke without a trace of any exotic accent, he spoke with the confidence of a native English speaker.

"Maybe if you weren't so deep in your ass, you would have seen me." She shot back. She took a step forward, bumping past him and ignoring at the curses he spoke at her. In fluent Yoruba.

No matter how fascinating he might be, she had worse things to deal with than an overbearing Chinese boy who spoke Yoruba too fluently. She looked back, quickly to flip him the bird, temporarily savouring the look of disdain and surprise mixed on his face. His furrowed brows and downward turned lips pleased her very much.

Grace found her sister amongst the crowd at the rows of shops and cyber cafes behind the faculty of arts. The sun shone on her like a spotlight as people peered mockingly at her. A wave of exhaustion crashed onto Grace, her anger faded away as she drew nearer to the sight She felt a pang of unwanted pity for her sister, a stranger might not notice it, but she definitely saw the crushing sadness in Ewatomi's eyes, the sadness she tried desperately to hide but failed woefully in her fake smiles.

"Fine girl like that dey steal," One boy muttered, eyeing her sister with mockery and pity. Grace gritted her teeth, it was a common saying that Nigerians never complimented each other until they were caught committing crimes, you would hear things like, fine boy dey steal or see as that girl fine reach yet she dey beg.