MISJUDGED

“So you’re among.”

That was the third time I’d heard those words, and each time, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in my chest. I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Scratch that, an earthquake couldn’t even grant me that mercy. If I said I was innocent, no one would believe me.

“You’re a disgrace,” the same woman spat again. She was one of those random teachers who happened to know my dad. I couldn’t stand her.

And honestly? She wasn’t even pretty. I was taller than her, for goodness’ sake, what gave her the audacity to talk down at me like this?

“A child born at the altar,” she sneered. “And you chose to follow your mates and misbehave in school.”

“I didn’t do anything, ma. I was…”

“Of course, you’d deny it,” she cut in, her voice dripping with disdain. “You rebellious children are all the same. You even have the guts to interrupt me when I’m talking. What manner of child are you? Honestly, I doubt your father is your real father. Your sister doesn’t behave like this.”

Her words stung, and I glared at her. “My father is my real father,” I mumbled, the words trembling out of my mouth.

“What did you just say?” she snapped, stepping closer, her face twisted in anger.

I was angry too. Angry at her, angry at myself, angry at everything. Why was I being singled out just because my dad is a priest? Am I the only priest’s kid in this school? And even if I am, does that mean I don’t get to live my life?

“Johnson Stella, what did you just say?” she repeated, her shrill voice clawing at my patience.

“I said my father’s my real father,” I replied, trying not to escalate things further.

But of course, she wouldn’t let it go. “Oh really? Then why is your sister a model student, graduating with honors and no bad records, while you…” She smirked, her tone laced with venom. “While you’re out here jumping fences to visit a hotel.”

“I...”

“Shush! Don’t talk when I’m talking!” She grabbed a cane, her knuckles tightening around it like it was her lifeline.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t care anymore. This woman was a witch, and no one could convince me otherwise.

“Johnson Stella!”

I turned to see the secretary of the disciplinary committee standing in the doorway.

“Ma?” I managed to croak.

“You’re up,” she said, then disappeared back into the office.

“Go on and face your misery,” the short, ugly teacher muttered with a smirk, her words cutting through me like ice.

Cold sweat trickled down my back, mixing with the hot tears streaming down my face. My legs felt like lead, and my knees ached from kneeling too long.

“I wonder what your father preaches in church when he can’t even train his own child,” she jabbed again as I remained kneeling. I didn’t listen anymore. Her words blurred into the background as I was trying to picture my fate.

Whip!

Her cane landed squarely on my back, jolting me up.

“Will you get up from there and enter the office!” she barked.

My legs wobbled as I walked in, the hot-cold sweat dripping down my face. I wasn’t sure what awaited me inside, but I knew one thing; this was going to either break me or break me. There was no middle ground.