“Please have mercy on that pencil and let it rest.” Jabari said with a smile, in his smooth Ghanaian accent, as he adjusted his lab goggles and eyed the broken pencil in my hands.
I threw a glare at my nosey Chemistry lab partner. Jabari Kimathi never minds his business. The first time we met in Chemistry lab, he asked me about a gazillion questions, all of which made it sound like we had been childhood best friends. “Do you think pooping is like, a sort of punishment from God?” “How old are you? You look like you’re nineteen.” “Has anyone ever told you to try modeling? I model for the designer brand Yael. I can introduce you to my manager if you want.”
He was a nice guy, and had gotten comfortable with me very quickly. Like Wendy, he almost never shuts up. The only exception was the fac
