Site icon Alan Ochen

THE ESCORT GIRL – PART I

I will drive/own a car before you even buy yourself a bicycle, Sheila told me. We can bet on that if you wish, she added. Sheila was attractive but her intelligence wasn’t very kind to her, often, she would pass as someone retarded.

The reporting days to campus are relatively infertile. One is always looking to make friends or looking for that they may know. It took me a while to land on someone that I knew at my college. Partly to the fact that most computer nerds really keep to themselves, their computers or random music.

On the third day, I landed on a fella called James. I had studied with James in my High School for a whole two years. He, like many people, kept to himself. I, therefore, avoided him like a plague. The day ended with a few friends being added to my list. They were mostly Manchester United fans. It turned out depression groups start when people meet this way. This is how Sheila and I met. It was friendship and not love at first sight.

Sheila was a daring girl, she spoke of how smart I was, I, on the other hand believed that I was just lucky. She alluded that smart people rarely get lucky, the dull ones like her, always do.

Towards the end of the first semester, Sheila and I made a bet, which I lost. Our bet was on who would own and drive a car before the other. Considering how unserious and irresponsible she was, I knew I would scoop the bet. I agreed. Her beauty withstanding, our bet was made on the premise that the acquisition would be based on hard work and nothing more. Immediately after the bet, I took to the streets dropping cover letters and resume in the process and Daily Monitor. Sheila, on the other hand continued to louse around. I was on the path to winning.

Weeks, months later, Sheila sent me a message asking if we could go out for lunch. I will pay, she said. I was awed, the girls I met at campus took in more than they gave out. They for    most of the time would rather do their nails than buy a guy lunch. Her offer was for me and my three closest friends. We agreed since lunch at campus seldom came cheap. We left our lecture room hurriedly hoping to catch one of the kikoni bound hostel shuttles until Sheila said, slow down boys, we will take my car.

What my friends and I saw was 2006 Toyota Harrier nota Vitz, a premio, a duet but a Harrier. The bet was lost so was my ego.

 

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