I step into the classroom and the states hit me like a hundred daggers. There's the usual snickering, the whispers behind cupped hands, the side eyes that dart away as soon as I look at them. It's another day in Peace College, my second year actually. I have gotten used to it now, the way people see me before they even know my name.
I don't bother to look around for a seat. Miriam's already waving me over from the far corner. As I walk past a group of girls, one of them flicks her hair and whispers something to her friend. The girl smirks and whispers the word "whore" just loud enough to make my blood simmer.
It doesn't faze me anymore. Not today. Not when am thinking about Zion.
He's sitting at his usual spot, perfect posture, effortlessly cool, eyes scanning some book in front of him.
Zion is tall, thin, striking really. Like one of those guys who were sculpted in a dream. The kind of guy that makes heads turn even when he's doing nothing. His cocoa skin glows and there's a sharpness to his features as if someone took a chisel and carefully carved every angle of his face. His hair is short but there's a way he carries himself, so calm like he's always in control. It's what makes it difficult to ignore him.
If only I could get close enough to really see the guy behind the mask.
But I can't, not here, not in front of all these people watching.
I finally make my way to Miriam who scoots over so I can sit beside her. She's the only one who doesn't care what the others think.
My butt is not fully on the seat before Professor McKenzie walks in. We all call him Professor Mick. He's short and stocky and so very friendly with all of us. I think people like Professor Mick are the ones who makes me fully grateful that I am studying Mass Communication. He makes the course seem so effortlessly easy. So simple.
And he's so natural. He doesn't speak through his nose like the other man, Professor Bayo whoose words hang up in the air before you even grasp what they mean.
As Professor Mick walks in, the whole class quietens. He darts a quick glance my way and then wrinkles his brow, probably for the same reason everybody looks like me with disdain . But he doesn't comment, he never does. He never has to.
"Alright class " He begins, his voice steady " Today we are tackling the impact of social media on modern reputation."
Many minutes later, I am idly pressing my phone and hearing Professor Mick's voice drift powerfully into my ears. I scroll through my WhatsApp texts , smile at a few texts and shake my head quietly.
"Mick will soon catch you, madam presser " Miriam whispers to my ears.
I roll my eyes and try to put up a straight face.
It is too late. It is almost as if Miriam is psychic .
Professor Mick turns to my direction and says sharply
"Jade Simon, what can you tell us about the importance of social media."
The stares at me intensify and I get up , with the straightest of faces. I can hear the crooked thoughts in the hearts of almost everyone except Miriam. They all wish I will say something ridiculous. Miriam's tuggs at my dress encouragingly.
I say the first thing that comes to my mind
"Social media is a mirror, it reflects who we are _ good, bad, ugly. But it also gives a voice to the ones who usually go unheard, the marginalized, the voiceless. It gives us power. It's a place where people can rise above their circumstances and be seen ".
A smile is beginning to settle on Professor Mick's face but almost immediately, I see a hand shoot up.
I do not need to turn to know it's Zion's hand. We do this all the time. I wonder if he finds a kind of pleasure contradicting me in every thing I say in class.
Him no fit even wait for my spit to dry, I mutter within my breathe.
"Zion Emeka, " Professor Mick confirms my thoughts "Let's hear you".
I do not sit down, I am still standing.
"Social media " Zion begins, his voice so controlled it sounds rehearsed " doesn't just reflect the society. It amplifies the chaos. It spreads rumors, it ruins life. People loose their jobs, their reputation, their family , over a single post, a single comment. It is toxic. It destroys."
I lean forward, arms crossed, not even trying to hide my challenge. "It's not the platform that's the problem. It's how people that use it. Social media is a tool. It's about the choices we make. Why punish everyone for a few bad apples."
Zion narrows his eyes, almost like he's annoyed and he launches into the next attack.
I roll my eyes. Here we go again. But I know I will reply him when he's done. Again.