Chapter 3: The Test Wasn't Enough
804 Words
Even after that perfect score in English, things didn’t really change.
Some of them clapped that day, yes. Some nodded, as if to say “not bad.” But by the next day, it was like nothing happened. The whispers returned. The stares didn’t stop. The silence around me grew thicker.
I had hoped the test would open a door, even just a little.
But it didn’t.
Not really.
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“She Just Got Lucky”
During break time, I walked past a group of girls in my class. I wasn’t even trying to listen, but I heard my name.
“She just got lucky,” one of them said.
“Abi o,” another replied, “English is not even hard like that.”
Then one added, “Let’s see how she’ll do in other subjects.”
I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. But those words sat heavy in my chest.
They were waiting for me to fall.
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The Next Set of Tests
A few days later, we had tests in Mathematics, IRS & CRS, Business Studies, and Literature.
I wrote every one of them with full focus. I wasn’t trying to compete. I was only doing what I had always done — my best.
When the scores came out, I came first again in three subjects.
Still, they weren’t satisfied.
One boy shouted across the class, “Maybe she’s doing jazz oh!”
Laughter.
Another girl said, “She must be using expo. No one is that quiet and still smart.”
Laughter again.
I sat in my usual seat, pretending I didn’t hear. But inside, I was tired.
Tired of proving myself.
Tired of being judged.
Tired of being in a place that didn’t want to see beyond my scarf and silence.
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Teacher’s Office
That week, our Business Studies teacher called me to her office.
When I entered, she looked up and smiled. “Sit down, Rukoyyah.”
I sat.
“You’re doing very well in my subject,” she said. “Very neat work. Very correct answers.”
“Thank you, ma,” I said softly.
She paused for a moment and added, “Don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong. People fear what they don’t understand. But Allah understands. And that’s more than enough.”
I blinked fast. I didn’t want tears to drop. I just nodded.
That was the first time since I came to Lagos that someone said the exact words I needed to hear.
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Rumours & Doubts
But the rumours kept growing.
“She’s too serious.”
“She doesn’t play with anybody.”
“She’s too holy.”
Some even said I looked down on them because I didn’t talk or laugh with the rest. But they didn’t know how many times I wanted to join a conversation and held back because I didn’t know how to start. They didn’t know how many words I kept locked inside just because I was afraid of being mocked again.
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An Unexpected Test
One day, during Literature, the teacher asked for volunteers to read a poem aloud and explain its meaning.
Silence.
No one raised their hand.
Then, slowly, I did.
The teacher smiled, “Rukoyyah. Go ahead.”
As I stood up and read, my voice was soft but steady. I explained the poem line by line. I didn’t rush. I just spoke from my heart — the way I had read it the night before under my lantern light.
When I finished, the class was quiet.
Then, slowly, the teacher clapped. “That,” she said, “is how to feel literature. Well done.”
Some classmates nodded. Some still looked away.
But I saw something new in their eyes — not acceptance yet, but maybe… respect.
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Still Not Enough
Later that day, two girls walked past me in the corridor.
“She’s just showing off,” one said.
“Let her keep trying,” the other replied. “She’ll soon fade.”
I didn’t reply. I just smiled to myself.
Because deep down, I was beginning to understand something:
No matter what I did — no matter how many tests I passed or how well I read — to some of them, it would never be enough.
But that was fine.
Because I wasn’t here to please anyone.
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A Thought Before Sleep
That night, as I lay on my mattress and stared at the ceiling, I whispered to myself:
> Maybe I’ll never be loud.
Maybe I’ll never dress like them.
Maybe I’ll never “belong.”
But I will never shrink myself to fit in.
And I will never let them define me.
The test wasn’t enough for them.
But for me?
It was more than enough to remind me of who I was.
- Writer
