Beneath the Surface

ChapterOne

Chapter One

Naya

You know, they say that university is supposed to be the best time of your life. A place to make friends, learn, grow, maybe even become someone important. But if you looked at me right now, you’d probably think the opposite. I walk through campus every day with my head down, hoping no one notices me, hoping I can just disappear. Because for some people here, it seems like I’m not even worth a second glance or, if they do look, it’s with pity or, worse, disgust.

Today’s no different. I know what you’re thinking. “Why not just hold your head up, ignore them?” And believe me, I try. But it’s hard when the little things keep reminding me, I don’t belong. Like my shoes, old and scuffed from walking the same route every day. Or my clothes, which feel tighter with each passing semester, since who has the money for a new wardrobe?

I’m here on a scholarship, one of the few from my small town to make it this far. It’s supposed to be my ticket to a better life, a chance to change everything. But when I walk past groups of students, laughing, chatting, all of them looking so put together, I can’t help but feel small.

Take Anita, for example. She’s the kind of girl who has it all: expensive clothes, perfect hair, a group of friends who follow her around like she’s the queen. I barely even know her, but that hasn’t stopped her from noticing me. Or, should I say, judging me. Last week, she looked at me like I was some kind of charity case and said, “Didn’t know they still made clothes like that.” I felt my cheeks burn, and every word I wanted to say just disappeared. I stood there, frozen, and she walked away laughing with her friends.

Every time I see her, I wonder if she even remembers me or if I’m just another girl she can laugh at and forget. But I can’t forget. That’s the thing about words—they stick. They stick to you like glue, and no matter how much you try to brush them off, they leave their mark.

So, after class today, I do what I always do. I head to the library. It’s the one place on campus where I feel a little bit of peace. Surrounded by shelves of books, I can imagine that maybe I’m someone else. Maybe I’m someone who doesn’t care what people think. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m someone who’s strong, confident, the kind of girl who can walk into a room and hold her own. But as much as I want to be that girl, I’m not there yet.

I find my usual corner in the library, tucked away where no one can see me. I unpack my notebook and open my laptop, even though the screen’s got a tiny crack in the corner. It’s second-hand, but it works, and that’s all I need. I stare at my notes, trying to focus, but it’s like my mind has been trained to replay every sneer, every laugh.

I wish I could tell you it doesn’t bother me. That I’m too strong to care. But if I’m being honest, I do care. Maybe more than I should. I care because every look, every snicker feels like a reminder that I’m not like them, that I don’t belong here. And some days, that feeling is heavy, like I’m carrying it on my shoulders everywhere I go.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t come all this way, didn’t fight to get a scholarship, just to let people like Anita tell me who I am. I don’t know how yet, but I know one thing—I have to change something. Maybe it’s how I see myself, or maybe it’s how I let people treat me. But something has to give.

It’s dark by the time I finally leave the library, the halls mostly empty, just the echo of my footsteps as I walk towards the direction of my dorm. The air is cool, and the campus looks almost peaceful, shadows stretching across the ground. For a moment, I stop and look around, really look, and I imagine myself here, not as the girl everyone laughs at, but as someone who stands tall, who doesn’t care what they think.

The walk back to my dorm was slow as the last thing I wanted was to speak to my roommate. Monice is the rudest person in the entire universe to my knowledge, and the last thing I wanted to do was to be at the receiving end of her scornful eyes.

The silence of the night was scary or unsettling. I wasn’t scared of the dark, I mean....who was going to kidnap me. I’m too heavy to be lifted anyway.