Unspeakable

I am in love with that girl. There - I've said it, and I'm not going to take it back. My heart is full with this admission of truth, of the validation of my feelings. Writing this down is an act of rebellion. Of course it's not going to go any further than this. I cannot go any further than this - it is early days in a newly independent country, women are just making headway in the workplace and there is simply no space yet for feelings like mine.

But I do feel this way.

"Lily! Are you finished daydreaming?"

Ms Terry is my Mathematics teacher, and I am convinced that she actively dislikes me. The feeling is mutual. Everything about her is neat and ordered - every strand of hair neatly tucked into place, handwriting so square and severe that it appears printed - my friend Julie once said that she probably has never made a single mistake in her life. Ms Terry insists that Mathematics is a beautiful subject and takes her students' failure in the subject personally. I am one of those failures.

Sensing her glare on me, I quickly murmur an apology and transfer my gaze back to the textbook in front of me. This month we are working on linear and quadratic equations, and I would never be able to hand in my homework if Julie doesn't help me. But I cannot afford to go on like this. Next year I would be sitting for a public examination that would determine my chances of going to university. If I didn't get to university, I would most likely try for the clerk job at the factory where my father is a labourer. And I would most likely be married the following year. To a man.

As much as I dislike Ms Terry, I aspire to be something like her - university-educated and boss of her own money. If I am educated and earning beyond what my father could imagine, then he could not force me to -

There she is.

My seat is next to the door of my classroom. The early afternoon sun is streaming into the arched walkway and I could see her bright and clear as she walked down the corridor carrying a pile of books. She wears a different uniform as she is a prefect and recently appointed Head Girl. She has perfect features and always has a radiant smile. And she is clever too. I really cannot help falling in love with her.

Julie gives me a hard pinch. Apparently Ms Terry has been speaking to me for the last few minutes. And I had been staring out of the classroom the whole time. I turn to apologise but it is too late. Ms Terry has an ominous glint in her eyes. Please see me after class, she says.

I stand by her desk, squirming as she takes her time in marking worksheets. When she finally puts her pen down, I brace myself.

"Do you still plan on going to university and having a career later?", she asked.

"Yes Ms", I stammer.

"Lily, I will be frank with you. With your current performance I do not think that you will make the cut in the public exam. I know that you don't like my subject - many don't, but unfortunately in our education system this is a compulsory subject to get through. Students who are practical understand this and try their best. The problem with you is the fact that you do not seem to want to try. Half of the time your attention is not here, and I do not just mean during my class. Maybe you long for a different kind of world, but this is your reality Lily. And if you want to make anything out of yourself you will need to try. Otherwise choices will be made for you, whether you like it or not. You may leave now, and do think about what I have said."

Tears are pricking the back of my eyes and I am nearly blinded, but I know where I am going. I walk towards the back wing of the school - an ancient three storey building connected to the main building via a walkway. It is strictly out of bounds for the students, as the school lore goes - when the place was a convent, a young nun died there after an act of transgression and since then the entire building is haunted.

In reality, there are just rooms and rooms full of disused desks and other furniture. When I open the door to one of the rooms, the girl is already there. She has already started without me, and the air is thick with smoke. I light the cigarette that she has laid out for me. In the beginning I coughed a lot but now I am getting the hang of it. I let the nicotine fill my lungs.

Now, I am actually a coward and I would never have dared to walk into the haunted wing had I not seen the girl going in that direction a few times. I am always so alert to the girl's presence that I noticed her even from a great distance. I wondered why she was going there. One day, I picked up the courage to go there and walked into an old classroom where the girl was sitting near the window, smoking nonchalantly.

I couldn't believe my eyes. She looked as perfect as ever, with her Head Girl badge gleaming in the sunlight. She turned as I stood frozen at the door. "I...sorry...I saw you walking here, I..didn't mean to snoop, sorry". She watched me for a whole minute before turning towards the window.

"Are you going to tell on me?"

Of course not, I insisted. Of course I would never tell on you.

I was backing away when she handed me my first cigarette. The thought of refusing never crossed my mind.

She has never acknowledged me, or our friendship, outside the haunted wing. To the outside world, she was in the year above me, a cut above me in every possible definition that to be friends with me would be illogical. For my part, I never told anyone, not even Julie, regarding meeting this girl once every few days after school. It has been months now, and she has not asked me to buy the cigarettes. She probably knows that I have no money. She probably thinks that I am sponging off her in return for keeping her secret. I do not mind her thinking that. As long as she never guesses how I actually feel about her.

Sometimes we talk about our lives. Mostly we sit in silence and smoke. Today, however, is different. "You can cry here if you want, I won't judge", she says. "These are angry tears", I say thickly.

"Who is making you cry?", she asks. She is curious now.

"Its Ms Terry, she hates me. She just told me that I would amount to nothing just because I am not good at her stupid subject. She said that I would never get to university. She could have just set me some punishment for daydreaming a bit. Instead she chose to say the things that she knows will hurt me the most and dismissed me."

The girl looks thoughtful. "Ms Terry is smug", she says, "She has been mean to me too, and I don't like her".

I stare at her. What fault could Ms Terry have possibly found in her? Did she know about the smoking? It wasn't likely - if at all Ms Terry knows I am sure she would have lobbied for our suspension.

"Actually I thought of a trick to play on her, something that would embarrass and unsettle her a little, but it is quite petty", she says.

The plan is simple, and more importantly for me, relatively low risk. Next Monday Ms Terry is due to give an important speech on Women's Empowerment during our school's monthly assembly. Before that I needed to drop a small device into the depths of the giant workbag that she carries everywhere. The device is the newest portable lightweight radio on the market and could be operated with a remote control. We planned to disrupt her speech with the loudest, most inappropriate song possible. She would be close to the microphone and everything would be amplified. It would be a while before she would locate the source. The loss of her composure, and the resulting embarrassment would be worth my while.

The girl does not have classes with Ms Terry this year, therefore she tasks me with the planting of the device. I get an opportunity to do it the very next day when it my turn to carry the workbooks to her seat in the teachers' room. No one sees me slip it into her bag.

Julie does not understand why I appear so bright and excited on that Monday. I do not enlighten her. But something is not quite right. Ms Terry, who is never late to anything, does not appear on the elevated podium where all the teachers sit for the assembly. Another teacher does the Women's Empowerment speech. No one seems to notice or comment on Ms Terry's absence.

A week later, one thing becomes perfectly clear - Ms Terry is never going to come back to our school.

The official policy regarding the subject of Ms Terry is Silence. But underneath the veil of silence, the story spread - first in snippets spoken with hushed tones, then a sensational tale complete with details supplied by fertile adolescent imagination. For Ms Terry had been Caught Red-Handed, in a Compromising Position, with another female teacher the preceding Friday after school hours. The security guard had heard a loud alarm-like noise from a toolshed in a secluded area of the school compound. When he reached the shed, the noise was deafening. The shed was locked from the outside but he could hear voices inside. He turned the key that was left in the lock - when he pushed the door open he saw the two women, both respected teachers up to that point, both clearly guilty, one holding a tiny blaring device, the contents of her bag strewn across the floor.

On The School Grounds was apparently too much for the security guard, who reported them at once. No one knew what happened between them and the School Board. Some said Ms Terry had come clean and told the Principal about her relationship with the other teacher. Others said both remained silent, being unable to offer any plausible explanation for being found in that situation. Most people agreed that Ms Terry had picked up the habit from her education abroad - if she wished to live that way, then she should have never come back to this country.

When I meet the girl again at the classroom in the haunted wing, I do not take the cigarette.

"We only planned to embarrass her a bit during the speech, why did you have to do that to her?"

Her smile, which had seemed so radiant to me before, is now nothing more than a self-satisfied smirk. "Ms Terry always had her knife into me. She tried to block my appointment as Head Girl. She did her best to convince the other teachers, some of them told me. Of course, it didn't work - but I could never forget it. I knew about her secret for a while - was just looking for the opportunity."

"You destroyed her life", I whisper. She wouldn't be able to get another job. Her family would carry the shame too. She might go to prison.

"Look, why do you care? Last week you were full of hate towards the woman. I thought you would be glad she is gone. I didn't tell you my real plan because I couldn't trust you to keep your mouth shut. Now that we have both got what we wanted, could you please stop being a hypocrite?"

You destroyed her life.

"So what are you going to do about it, Julie? Are you going to go around telling people that I am the one who exposed her? Go ahead. No one will believe you. And even if they do, no one will fault me for exposing a perverted woman with unnatural tendencies. So, what's the plan Julie? Are you going to defend a woman who is sick in her head?"

That would be the last time I speak to the girl.

I went on to pass the public exam. Like Ms Terry, I won a place at a university abroad. Unlike Ms Terry, I did not return home. Unlike Ms Terry, I was able to have the loving fulfilling relationships without fear of repercussions. I thought again and again about her last words to me. The more I thought about them, the more convinced I became that she sensed what I was feeling. Ms Terry died later that year, and I never had the courage to own up, to apologise for my part in the affair. I never smoked again.

Lately I recognised the girl when I was reading news about my country. She was a politician, Minister for Women Affairs, described by the journalist as tough but with a warm heart. As I looked at the hard lines around her lips and eyes, I wondered how I could have ever been in love with her.