The Outsider

Pennacle
2 min readNov 21, 2021

Your eyes scan the wide dining hall. Searching. Absorbing. A short fat girl emerges from the kitchen door like a gladiator but instead of swords she's carrying two extra large coolers, one of rice and 10 boiled eggs and the other of watery stew. She has the most important job of table leader which means that the weight of her table members' stomach rests on her plump shoulders. She takes her job seriously, obviously.

The girls behind you are talking about the chemistry test. Complaining about the Chemistry test. The Chemistry teacher set abstract things. They didn't have much time. The questions were too deep. Ms. Olaide was too strict in her invigilation. You don't agree with them though. You think the test was easy, the time allocated was adequate and the invigilation was fair. You look forward to the test results.

Your eyes continue to roam until they rest on a group of six girls whose high-pitched laughter catch your attention. They are all of the same height - tall, about 5'9. They are wearing the same hairstyle which every other girl in the room is wearing - all-back cornrows, the hairstyle for the week - except they border theirs with Givenchy headbands and bandanas for effect. Their skirts are a tad high above their gleaming thighs. Their socks are a tad below their ankles. Their spidery long legs are on display and they seem to revel in the attention. They are wearing the same kind of sandals made from fine leather and with thick soles. On their table is a collection of fine chinaware with different designs, and exotic cutlery. You can tell - from the way their lips curve up in a sneer, from their assuming heights, from their fast-paced chatter, from their shrill laughter with undertones of "notice us", from the way they pretend to not notice people noticing them - that you do not belong there.

Here, in the darkest corner of the hall, in your loose-fitting shirt and your Mary Magdalene skirt, in your worn rubber sandals and your plain cornrows, alone with your thoughts and your aluminum plate, is where you belong. A loner. Small. Content. A small yet contented loner.

Nduka Victoria Chiwendu
©️ Pennacle, 2021

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Pennacle

Literary Community| Organizers of Pen On Fire Writing Competition| IG - @wearepennacle, @penonfire_