Frankly, I've left my previous school for almost three years now. But there's one person that taught me never to judge a book by its cover and that I will never forget even till my dying day.
I was a messy little kid. Ebony locks of hair always danced in the wind as I loved to jump and play around until my hair came loose. I wore a blouse that couldn't take my size any more and a skirt that covered my calves. I had a couple of decayed tooth that were clinging onto my gums like a rock climber grasping onto a cliff for dear life and loved to yell and shout. I wrote a type of cursive no teacher could understand in school and rebelled whenever I saw the need. And sometimes when I felt like it, I skipped bath times and went to school smelling like a pile of old socks. So you could say that I was a living proof of decorum's failure. Or what my friends jokingly referred to me as Barbarian Jan.
And then, came along this dude. He was more of a thug than all the other classmates. His glasses were slanted, dangling only on his right ear. He wore an oversized T-shirt and baggy pants with spills of sauce, mud and sweat. He yelled, screamed, pushed and elbowed classmates whenever he need to and had scabs all over ever inch of skin he had. And we affectionately called him the Bahlahku man (Bahlahku is a local slang for much scars).
Bahlahku man was notoriously known for engaging in fights and destroying school property. [So that's where all his Bahlahkus came from :D ] He was often seen in detention, writing lines by the discipline master's side and chuckling as she snored away happily while we were astounded by his amazing guts to even laugh of someone of such high authority. He pulled the monitor's plaits, cut girls' ponytails when they weren't noticing and tied boys' shoelaces together in a knot. He tore our books and drew on them and, launched a flying pen at our science teacher, which till this date, I still marvel at how he defied the fiercest teacher in the level. He was an outlier, and nobody wanted to associate with him. Everyday in class, he would sketch action figure on his notepad and munch on the M&Ms he had bought from a nearby petrol kiosk. He never, ever handed in any of his homework.
Then this fateful day came. We were on a field trip to the Dairy farm. It was the first goat farm in the country that commercially supplies goat milk to the whole nation. As there weren't enough funds, the school only managed to hire a very small bus with a limited number of seats. Unluckily, I had to sit next to Bahlahku man. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and watched as the rest of the girls in class laughed and chirped how "lucky" I was.
Anger rose in my heart. I could feel my blood boiling and my insides seething hot. I gritted my teeth and boarded the bus. There, I sat crossing my arms as I turned my back on Bahlahku man, grunting as the bus ride continued for eternity.
"Hey," I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. A crystal clear voice called out.
"What do you want?" I asked angrily, not even turning my back to see him.
"Want some ham and cheeze sandwich? Ma made these for me " He extended out an arm filled with scars with a translucent blue lunchbox in his hand. He opened the lid of the lunchbox, revealing minute bite sized melted cheese sandwiches with generous toppings of glazed ham that sat in between two slices of aromatic white bread.
"No thanks." I replied blandly. But deep down, temptation wanted me to take one of those and pop it in my mouth.
"Come on! This is my ma's specialty. You gotta try!" He nudged me gently.
"Fine then." I said via pursed lips. I grabbed one and stuffed in my mouth like a barbarian and chewed with my mouth open. It was a flavour I've never tasted before. A mix of soft, dairy taste and the sweet, chewy ham filled by entire mouth. The bread tasted like wheat that was just harvested, boasting a dash of freshness and aroma.
"How's it?" He beamed.
"It's really good!" I smiled at him and took one more. By the time we've reached Dairy farm, I've finished the whole thing.
"Man, that's good." I smacked my lips and rubbed my stomach in content.
We laughed and chatted all the way through the visit, ignoring all the jeering from our classmates. It was the best learning journey I've had.
When we got back to school, I was waiting for my mom and dad to fetch me home. He handed me a badly crumpled white envelope.
"Janine, promise me you won't open this till you get home."
"Fine, whatever." I replied nonchalantly.
"Alright, see you, soon then!" He beamed and waved as he settled himself into the backseat of his dad's taxi.
"What kind of junk would be in here?" I sniggered. But instead it really amazed me.
It was a handmade card. Though it wasn't all that exquisite (and severely crumpled) as those that were sold in bookshops, but it was still really special. The front was pink, the rims were dotted with hot pink glitter and with red paint, a crooked heart was drawn on the front of the cover.
I opened the card.
"Jan,
I've never had a friend, so I decided with this card that you'll be my first one.
It's not my place here, the teachers and students all hate me
I'm going back to where I belong
But..
in a few years I'll be the richest man on Earth, you'll see!
Meanwhile,
Would you be my Valentine?"
I threw away the card then, thinking he was this jerk who knows nothing at all and deserves to be hated. But now,
Yes, Bahlahku, I'd be glad to be your Valentine.
