My mother had started her ranting again.

I didn't care about that, but who I was worried for was our driver, Timothy, who was seated with her in the front. But I didn't have to worry, he looked like he didn't care either. She was talking about me, and the latest act I had put up to get their attention. My parents were always busy- too busy to even look after their child, so, that was part reason why I didn't regret my actions, and why I wasn't going to apologise to her. I knew that she knew that I wasn't going to. I had never done so, why start now?

It was their fault that I was this bitter, they shouldn't have given birth to me in the first place if they knew that they wouldn't be able to take care of me. They birthed me, and dumped me in the in one of their many mansions in New Jersey. At 11, I was already a bully and causing havoc. One time, I locked up my teacher in a storage room and that got me suspended from school. That made my parents miserable.

The next feat I pulled off was when I ran away from the house, they combed all of Jersey, and even got the police involved. I was found the next morning; sleeping on the steps of a church. That was the straw that broke the camels' backs. They shipped me off to a boarding school .but I was hopeful that everything would change between us now that I was with them, but the vacuum got wider, and I lost myself in that depth, looking for warmth from parents who were never really there,then I stroke again this time they brought me back down to Nigeria.

I was the one who deserved an apology; I was the one whom things didn't work out for, I had wealthy parents, yes, but I envied the kids at school whose parents came to visit them with stories to tell, and love to share. I never had any of those, and I wonder what that would feel like. I understood that they were both working towards developing their lives, and adding more money to the already overflowing Martins' accounts, but I really could not remember a time when I spent up to ten minutes with my parents. I was 17 now, and things were still the same. So I, Alien Martin, deserved an apology from them. And their love. I wanted nothing more.

We drove home and all I wanted to do was go straight to my room, but my dad was standing right beside the door, along with two of our female domestic staff, who were probably waiting for the usual drama that occurred when they brought me home from school. But I was tired today, and didn't want to humour them. The energy I had put into today's episode left me drained. I had threatened to commit suicide today, which I shouldn't have done because I only ended up embarrassing myself in front of the whole school. And my parents still didn't show up, not until the whole school had emptied out, not until I had climbed down the rooftop after realising that I was just wasting my time. And even at that, even when time came for them to arrive, it was just my mother who did, probably because my principal had insisted that she come herself. Their businesses were more important.

My father was upset, it was in his face, and in the look in his eyes. I tried to walk past him, but he cut me off with a question.

"What were you thinking, Alien, do you know what would have happened to the current project I'm working on if the media had gotten wind of this and had come to your school?"

When I didn't answer him, he continued.

"You don't know, do you? You do not ever think of anything before you engage in all of your childish theatrics. Allow me to tell you what would have happened. First of all, you would have made us the talk of Lagos, making us appear on every social media platform, and all for nothing good. Our business partners would have thought twice before conducting any business with us again. And then, how would we train you, all your fancy toys, and exuberant college tuition, from where would we have gotten them?"

My mother got into the mix, which was quite unusual, she usually just walked past us whenever my dad and I had one of our talks. "Alien, you honestly think that our affairs will not be messed with if the public gets wind of your acts? You're 17 and acting like an eight-year-old, I thought you had outgrown these behaviours, but I can see that I was wrongly mistaken."

I couldn't take it anymore, the preference they had for their businesses over their son. I was sick and tired of it, and I really wanted to say something along the lines of; "Is that the only thing important to the both of you, your 'affairs'? You do not seem to care if I had jumped into one of Lagos' lagoons, or if I had actually seen my threat through and jumped down the rooftop, do you. I do not know why I bother, I am of a certain age now, and should know that you both will not give me the time of day, you weren't there when I was much younger, I don't understand the hope that flares inside of me that someday you'll be there. I just feel like I have to do some major bodily harm for that to happen, but I think I've tried long and hard enough."

But I didn't, I wasn't in the mood for any drama. I just simply walked past them with both my hands in my pocket, and that really pissed of my dad. He tried to yank me back, but my mum asked him to let me go. Abike, a domestic staff, followed me to my room, wanting to know if I'd like to have dinner, but I didn't, and she was intruding in the thoughts in my head, and that in turn, pissed me off. "Stay away from my room, I do not want to eat anything." She jerked, afraid that I might inflict harm on her. I didn't mean to lash out, but she made herself the object of my fury, and that was not surprising to my parents. I walked into my room, shutting the door behind me, I still blamed them as the reason for my turning out this way. I was a shattered soul, I was a mini-demon, I had issues with my parents, but deep down, all I wanted was love.

**********

School was another aspect of my life that I hated. I always managed to get to the assembly ground late, even if Timothy dropped me off in just enough time. Mrs. Yemisi, our principal, who was an agreeable woman, was getting tired of me. We weren't related in any way, but since I arrived in Lagos, she seemed to be the only adult I could talk to with ease. As usual, I got to the assembly late today, and everyone turned to look at me, Links British International had a rebel, and everyone knew it was me. I didn't care, I was beyond caring. I took my seat in the seniors' row, and Mrs. Yemisi paused for a second, shook her head, and continued.

The embarrassment from yesterday came back in folds when I realised that other students were gossiping about me, their necks were craned from all angles trying to get a look at me; I never knew peoples' necks could be this rubbery. I couldn't blame them the curiosity was killing them. It was killing me too. I watched Mrs. Yemisi's mouth move until I was transported from the assembly ground. After a while, I noticed that the noise had lessened, and as I looked up to find the cause of the silence, I saw a light skinned girl climb up the podium.

I had never seen her before prior to that day, and I wondered who she was. She wasn't in our school uniform, maybe she was a new intake. From where I sat, I could see the brown colour of her eyes that her glasses didn't quite conceal, her skin was luminous, as it glittered like a thousand gems, her hair was dark, and longer than the average shoulder-length hair. I wondered if she was a half cast, or an albino. If she wasn't, there were no other explanations I could give for why she looked this beautiful in her fair skin.

Christiana Thompson- that was what Mrs. Yemisi called her- seemed like a shy person. She studied the floor before her in great interest as she was introduced to the rest of the school. She was here on scholarship, and from one of the many slums in Lagos. Well, not exactly a slum, but places like that weren't known for comfortable standards of living. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't particularly interested in the opposite sex, I had enough troubles on my own, but something about this particular one got me hooked. I found myself constantly checking her out, and wanting to know certain things about her- like why her skin glowed so much. Didn't people suffer in the place where she came from, how come she looked this fine? She had a gorgeous body that she couldn't hide in the oversized dress she had on, which looked like a sack of potatoes compared to what the other girls wore at Links British. Maybe her parents were formerly rich and only recently fell into the ruins of poverty. And try as I might, I wasn't going to get anything, except if I asked her. Which wasn't going to happen in the nearest future. I was still trying to unravel the mystery of Christiana Thompson when Mrs. Yemisi announced that she'd like to see me in her office during short break. So far, so good.

**********

The day hadn't even gone half yet, and the whole school was abuzz with talks of the newcomer. It was annoying, but the good news was that I was no longer anyone's person of interest at the moment. The Maths teacher was absent today, and I pretended to sleep, laying my head down on my locker. Not long after, someone tapped my shoulder, I raised my head, hoping that my glare would scare the intruder. I saw that it was Bianca and I knew she would never go away until she had said all that she wanted to. I laid my head down again, and she tapped me a second time.

"What do you want?", I asked her.

Bianca rolled in the same circles as me, our parents were business partners, and as all business stories went, they hoped that she and I would be more than just friends. Well, I hope they keep dreaming, maybe God would let them birth more children they would pair off.

She dragged a chair over and set it next to mine. "Why did you create such a scene yesterday?"

I was on the verge of replying her question with one of my famous sarcasms when the Biology teacher walked into our class with the Thompson girl. Bianca quickly ran to her seat, after whispering something silly to one of her friends. I knew it was silly because most of the things Bianca said were tinged with silliness. The class became silent.

"Christiana, please pick a seat anywhere and settle down." The fair lady stood confused, as everyone who had an empty seat by their side dropped their backpacks on them. Bianca's friend dropped her backpack on the empty seat next to me. I didn't bother to do it myself because no one had ever opted to seat next to me before. Except Bianca, of course.

But amidst open mouths, and breath-taking gasps, Christiana walked to the empty seat next to mine, carefully put the backpack down, and settled in nicely. I didn't build the school, neither did I build the classroom, but my parents' money constantly found its way into school projects, and I had the right to have an empty seat next to me if I wanted. Of all the empty seats in the classroom, why did she choose mine. I slowly turned to her, hoping to communicate my annoyance to her with the amount of venom I put into my eyes, but then...

"Hello."

Well, I'll be damned. Her voice seemed small and lost, but strong and confident at the same time. Was that even possible? I turned back the other way, her voice having vanquished the venom in my eyes, and anger in my heart.