SPONSORED BY LOVE

CHAPTER SEVEN

SPONSORED BY LOVE

CHAPTER 7: AFTER THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE

The principal is Rooney's father.

His office is big and cold. There is AC that makes you shiver. His chair is big like a king's chair.

When Sophie and her friends entered, they were shaking. They thought because Sophie's father is a Commissioner, they would be free.

But Principal Damian did not look at Sophie's father. He looked at his own son.

"Rooney, is what Mr. Jay said true?" he asked.

"Yes, dad," Rooney said. "I recorded it. They planned to put expo under Sammie's desk."

Principal Damian pressed play on Rooney's phone again. The girls' voices filled the quiet office.

Sophie started crying for real this time. "Sir, we were just joking... we did not mean it..."

"Joking?" Principal Damian's voice was calm but heavy. "You call destroying a girl's future a joke? Do you know what suspension does to a student record? Especially a girl on scholarship?"

He looked at the four of them.

"One week suspension for all four of you. No exam for the week. Your parents will be called. And you will write apology letters to Sammie Dickson in front of SS2 Gold."

Jessy gasped, "One week, sir? Our parents will kill us!"

"Then you should have thought before you planned evil," he said. "Leave my office."

They walked out crying, their makeup ruined.

Outside, Sophie pushed Poonam. "It is your fault! Why did you bring expo?"

Poonam pushed her back, "It was your idea!"

They started fighting in the corridor until a teacher separated them.

In class, Mr. Jay allowed me to write my Maths test alone after everyone finished. I scored 18 over 20. The highest in class.

He patted my shoulder, "Well done, Sammie. Don't let anyone steal your light."

I smiled. Small smile. My first smile that day.

After school, I went to the library to read. I wanted to thank Rooney, but he was not in his back seat.

I found a small note on my favourite library table.

Meet me at the old basketball court. 4 pm.

No name. But I knew the handwriting. I had seen it on his English assignment when the teacher showed it as best handwriting.

It was Rooney's.

My heart started beating fast. What does he want? Why old basketball court? No one uses it again because the net is torn.

I looked at the time. 3:55 pm.

I packed my bag and walked there. The court was behind the school, near the bush. Quiet.

Rooney was there, sitting on a broken bench, dribbling a ball small small.

When he saw me, he stopped.

"You came," he said.

"You asked me to," I said.

He was quiet for some seconds. Then he said, "Are you okay? After today?"

I nodded, "Yes. Thank you for saving me again. You did not need to record them. You could have minded your business like before."

He smiled for the first time. A small, real smile.

"Before, I minded my business because I thought it was peace," he said. "Now I know, sometimes minding your business when someone is being wicked is not peace. It is fear."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Why are you always helping me?" I asked quietly.

He looked at the torn basketball net. Then at me.

"Because you remind me of my mother," he said.

My eyes widened.

"My mother also hawked before she married my father. She told me. When she was your age, she sold pure water to pay her school fees. People laughed at her too. But she did not stop."

I did not know that. The rich, fine Principal's wife, Rooney's mother, was once a hawker?

"So when I saw you at the junction that day," he continued, "I saw her. And I could not just walk away."

Tears came to my eyes again. But this time, good tears.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He stood up and gave me the basketball.

"Can you play?" he asked.

I laughed, "Me? No. I have never touched basketball before."

"I will teach you," he said.

And that evening, at the old, abandoned basketball court, the son of the school owner taught the hawker girl how to shoot a ball.

We were laughing. My laugh mixed with his.

For the first time in that school, I did not feel like a village girl.

I felt like Sammie.

And far away, behind the library wall, Sophie was standing and watching us. Filming us again with her phone, her face full of jealousy.

She whispered to herself, "So you really like her. We will see."