There I was, sitted unfortunately and thinking of my past and enviable dreams almost being shattered right before my eyes "Not all hope was lost, all hope was lost", these words kept bouncing in my head every moment I tried to relax and toss away my worries, flaws and problems. Could I fix everything? Could I wash my mistakes and make myself new once again?

What is it I was hearing? Screaming, things getting shattered, ferocious languages being used, threats—all in the living room. Still a little child of eight years old, I was usually curious of everything, I often wanted to know and see things that were going on around; heck I loved discovering new things every single day of my life!

The thwack and thud upstairs got louder and kept hitting the door of my room, calling me out to check it out. Something seemed different at that time though, it was serious. My dad even grabbed a case, "I am going to crush that garbage thing you have up there called a head", he said with so much energy and fury and I frightfully gasped.

I detested conflict. Each time they initiated their thing, I was fond of locking myself up in my room and listening to music while painting out my feelings on my tablet with an application my Dad had installed for me, knowing I felt better while doing my art work alone in my comfort zone.

I stopped eaves dropping and turned to slowly walk away when abruptly, I heard a voice say "You think I'm kidding right? Well just watch and see, your daughter Olamide is coming with me to live a better life in the United States!"

It was Dad. I threw a quiet gasp, holding on to my chest dramatically. I earnestly and provokingly flung the door open and bounced into the living room.

"What?!" I exclaimed and placed my left hand behind my little ear, "What did you just say Daddy? There is totally no way I'm leaving this country. If mom isn't going then we all die here in Nigeria." I announced in a staid manner, with folded arms. I was wearing pink shorts and a tank top on a childish chicken designed shoe.

"Go back to your room Steph," Mom said.

I just assumed Dad was using one of his threat jokes, whereby, he would threaten to do something really serious that sounded like he was joking but then he wouldn't do it at all.

I relaxingly released my folded arms and sighed. I slid and turned and cat walked back to where I came from, back to what I was doing, before the quarrel buddies called my parents disrupted.

My life was going great just as I had planned. Ever since I could distinct right from wrong, I dreamed of becoming a famous actress who would be a perfect role model for all and set good, relevant standards for my fans and also who would be of good help to young people out there.

I had the best friends... Not really the best but the ones who were good enough to associate with and a good Lord whom I served always and promised to serve for the rest of my life. I had the best clothes—designers, attended one of the best schools in Lagos, best forged accents from different countries, best well functioned, swift and intelligent brain; an attractive look and personality for a girl of my age... I wouldn't say I was perfect, though I had the most charming qualities, just name it! Excluding the best parents and that frequently made me depressed but I had God beside me so I worried about nothing and feared nothing.

I was a kind of girl who loved nature, I loved animals, I loved colours, I loved colourful animals... just anything as long as it was good, perfect and it made me happy.

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I woke up late, feeling so indolent due to all the things I had earlier worked on for my sales business to get some cash and move into acting school since my parents tossed aside my passion for being on stage. I felt it would be much better if I started off my career on my own; Yes, we were rich but I felt it was needful to struggle on my own. I sluggishly walked out of my room and got to the living room but the house was empty.

"Hello?" I said and just immediately a whole lot of people jumped out of nowhere, "Surprise!!" They yelled and due to the fear they casted upon me, I moved backwards and tripped over a table and fell, sprawling to the ground. I fell and hit my face hard on the floor that it left a deep injury. "What a great start for a birthday" I glowered.

People interfered to help me back up and used a first kit to treat my injured and lumped forehead. My friends, relatives and even teachers from school were there to celebrate my fourteenth birthday with me which I had forgot... Well, almost forgot.

My Aunt took me to the party hall, it was so amazing and wonderful! I slept for so long than usual that I didn't even know people were working out my birthday party.

"Where is Mom?" I asked Aunt Dabira and she hastily replied, still busy with the party, "She went out to get something."

The hall had blazing designs with glitters all around and yellow flowers placed at the corners of the hall, and few pictures of me hung up with little colourful lights everywhere; it was all so shiny.

In no time, I had my party clothes on, which my dad bought for me a week before, and furry nice heels to make me taller so I could feel on top of the world. My dad had left for over six months to the United States and promised to be around to celebrate my birthday with me but there I was, about to blow my candles out and my father was nowhere to be found.

It was all going so ideal, wonderful and exciting!!! I had always wanted my fourteenth birthday to be boom! And Aunt Dabira made everything happen perfectly. I got a lot of presents from friends and had so much fun. Mom arrived with more party stuff and gifts for those invited, it was all going so well and I was so delighted about it until Dad barged in with a large cigarette hung in his mouth. Arrgh!

"Happy birthday daughter, you have a wonderful trip as a present. Pack your bags, you're going to Olive Valley," he said and I blew a fuse; I dropped my jaw.

It was so unbelievable that my own biological father cared less about me and left only to return with an idea of taking me away from my mother; and above all, my friends saw my Dad smoking. I was so embarrassed and blue at the same time, in fact I had different emotions rapidly flowing inside of me. I felt like asking God to send a legion of angels from heaven to punish that man greatly for me. Before I knew what was happening, my Mom went to him with extreme violence in action, built up in her right at that point, and again they initiated their usual exercise—quarreling. The party froze and everyone was watching, the drama between whom I would refer to as my parents.

"Stephanie goes no where with you Stephen! You can't even care of yourself or property, let alone a human being. All you will do is throw her out in the streets, in rags to suffer." Mom scowled in extreme anger. Her eyes and the sound of hatred in her words was a reflection.

"Oh gimme a break Mary! You know nothing and that's why our daughter is the way she is, but things are gonna change now. I'm taking her and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I've already gotten clear approval from the court and your parents remember? I take Olamide with me for two years and two years for you also and that's final woman." Dad uttered in a loud and intense manner.

Little by little my eyes started to get clouded with tears of excruciation and just when Dad grabbed two vases and broke them just to show Mom who the boss was, my clouded tears fractured and I ran to my room, weeping.

I fell on the bed with my face placed on a pillow and permeated it with tears of acrimony. I locked my room for no interruptions because I knew definitely someone would try to talk to me or cheer me up which I didn't want to happen. I cried and cried until a cold and heavy headache struck me and I slept off.

In two hours, I woke up and the headache was gone. I knew the Bible taught me to forgive and forget—I was willing to forgive them but I couldn't forget what they had done to me, never.

I heard someone knocking on my door and my Dad spoke, "Olamide open the door and let's talk... father to daughter."

"Pfft!" I muttered and without hesitating, I opened the door and returned to sit on my bed in folded arms.

"Olamide, you know you mean a lot to me right?" He asked and I gave no reply. I pouted my lips and wrinkled my face, indicating displeasure.

"Listen to me, I don't want you to be part of a broken home but your mother and I, we can never work things out, not in this world or the next and you know that. You'll leave Nigeria for a better place. You'll make new friends, white and black and you'll attend a nice school." He said and I was sort of buying the idea but something still badgered me. "What of Mom?" I asked and he replied, "Darling we are soon to get divorced but not to worry, you will get to see her every two years or whenever you feel like it."

I kept wondering about it, I wanted to go abroad but I didn't want to leave my Mom behind.

"And what of my sales business to raise money for acting school?"

"I'll work that out. Why even go to acting school? You've already got the talent in you. I have a friend who deals with things like this for kids like you, he will hook you up with some people and from maybe commercials, you'll start getting important roles in movies!"

Hmm... That idea sounded really cool and I bought it already! But then I thought, since I was an only child, who would keep Mom company or stop her from taking detrimental actions like I frequently did? I approved of all Dad said and Mom also had to. It was all so electrifying! I soon had to forget about my birthday wreck and care less about the gossips. Nigerians will always be Nigerians.

I packed my things in no time and in two days, I and my Dad left for our flight to the white man's land.

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Everything was so new to me, I had never been in an aircraft in all my life and there was nothing quite like the wonderful feeling of being on air and seeing the snow white clouds.

I and my Dad sat together but didn't say anything to each other.

"Olamide say something."

"Something," I replied and looked away. He let out a soft laughter and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, trying to get me to lean on his shoulder but I sat stiff and firm in refusal.

"What did I do?" Smiling, he asked.

"Are you kidding me? You did totally nothing! You ruined my birthday party, you and Mom are separated and now, you are trying to take me away from her, so you did absolutely nothing." I sarcastically said and he smiled and patted me softly on the head. "Oh my sweet, sweet daughter. I'm sorry."

I placed my headphones back on and enjoyed the movement of the plane.

Who was I even kidding? They were sort of right to get separated. They fought all the time and had visited up to fifteen therapists—still to zero avail. They constantly dissented to the extent that I had to share names. Dad referred to me as my native name, Olamide, while Mom referred to me as Stephanie. Bet they argued on my naming ceremony as well.

My father was from the Western part of Nigeria and my Mom was from the East so yes, they both spoke to me through their languages and expected me to choose one language out of both, which I'd learn. They would also constantly rain abusive words on themselves in those languages. I wonder why they got married in the first place.

The neighbours were already used to the raging war in our apartment that they never lacked topics to talk about. They as well asked their kids to stay away from me and claimed that I was a bad influence, just for having such parents.

I was indeed sick of the conflict.

"OMG! THS PLACE IS AWESOME!" I said to myself after taking a quick picture that I planned on sending to my Nigerian friends. The flight took decades and I was so exhausted, I needed a long time in the shower.

"How about a bubble bath?" Said Dad when he had read my thoughts through my actions of discomfort and body itching.

The house was humongous and it possessed a painting of white on the outside and my favourite, yellow, on the inside. It possessed jarring designs and magnificent paintings. It was like an itsy-bitsy piece of heaven built on Earth.

"Woah," I smiled, covered in goosebumps.

"Welcome to your new home," Dad gladly replied, making a welcome gesture with both hands spread out in front of him. He showed me around and showed me to my room, which was like a different apartment entirely; it was like taking a glimpse of heaven. My lips were tightly sealed as I turned to look at Dad.

"Okay, you're officially off my blacklist!" I proclaimed and hopped on the furry, bouncy bed in excessive excitement then moved to the sofa.

Olive Valley was the best! I stayed out looking stunningly at all the buildings and people and vehicles. "Wooow," I whisperingly said.

I stayed upstairs in order to have an explicit view of everything and take more nice pictures. I suddenly heard a cool, calm voice say "hello," and I turned to look when behold, a Prince stood there continuously waving and smiling charmingly. My breath slowly ceased as I plodded to think of the first word that would come out of my mouth but then, my phone dropped and I didn't notice; I didn't even know that I had my phone in my hand, all I was concerned about was knowing where he had popped out from.

"Hello?" He said, still waving at my face to catch my attention.

"Prince... charming..." I blurted out and just immediately, Dad walked in.

"Emlyn, meet my daughter," Dad said, expecting me to speak but it was too late, I was already under the eyes spell.

"Olamide!" He called out to me.

"Stephanie!" I repelled with a scowl. "It's Stephanie," I smiled at the lad.

"Emlyn. Nice to meet you," he said with a bright beam on his face and we shook hands. His hands felt so warm and soft that I felt like holding on to it forever as a good luck charm.

As soon as Emlyn got loose of my hand, I asked to be excused by him, then I gripped my Dad's wrist and took him away from Emlyn's presence.

"Daddy, who is he?"

"Some kid who helps me walk my dogs everyday for some cash. He is really nice and smart too." Dad responded and left the balcony, leaving me with my mouth hung open. Emlyn then caught me off guard and waved to get my attention; we got to properly introduce ourselves.

He took me too see my Dad's dogs and I really had fun hanging out with the dogs and him that night. I got to realize that he had a bouncy character and he was chirpy as a cricket. He told amusing and silly jokes. From the little time I spent with him that day, I got to realize that he was a lot caring.

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       My Dad brought the news to me that I was to begin my new school the next week and I got even more thrilled! My life was going just perfect!

I was so glad to have made a friend on the very first day and hour that I arrived in the United States. It made me see that I would fit right in and I had nothing to worry about.

Already bonding with my Dad, Emlyn decided to pay him a visit that night on his arrival back from Nigeria.

While my Dad was sorting out my school registration, I was making every possible research on white schools and how to fit in. I also planned on getting new materials for school.

The whole trip to America thing just caught me off guard.

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      The next week, I woke up on time and so did my Dad. I got drowned in so much glee about my first day of school in Olive Valley but I didn't want my enthusiasm to get into my head like it did when I attended my school back in Nigeria, on the first day, and totally made a jester out of myself in public. I wanted to make sure that didn't happen at my new school mainly because there were whites and cool people of different race and... it was freaking America!

I wore a black leather jacket on a yellow tank top and on a mini black pleated skirt. I wore gold flats that had yellow ribbons on them and also a furry bagpack. I was striving so hard to make a good first impression. I was sure to make everything look great, even my nails.

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      Dad had always wanted to take me abroad with him but Mom never agreed to it for some reason I didn't know about. She had gone thrice; Dad went in and out whenever he felt like it but I was forbidden, I never had the chance to gain that experience until after my fourteenth birthday.

Dad parked his car in the school's parking lot and we both went in. Just few black people were around, most of the students were white and also mixed race too. They all kept staring at me in an awkward way that I disliked. Dad claimed that the principal of the school was a wife of his friend's brother and after the necessary procedures were carried out, and informations were being passed, I was taken to my class which was just down the hallway.

As soon as I entered, the principal introduced me to the class. She exited after giving the students some key information about me and how they ought to treat me, reminding them of their manners and the school rules.

The teacher whom had been interrupted by the principal then called me back to the front of the class as I made for the seat in which the principal had directed me to dwell. I began to freak out inside of me. I was so timid.

"What does this woman want with me? Just leave me to my seat and act like I'm a hologram!" I said to myself and she said, "looks like we've got a new student here in our midst. Tell everyone your name young lady. We want to hear from you."

The principal had already said my name but evidently, they wanted to hear from me. I stood still and uttered no word as I looked around and all eyes were on me. I kind of felt intimidated. I kept wondering if I was wearing the right clothes.

"Go on, introduce yourself."

"My name is Stephanie..." I said out loud in an American and Nigerian mixed accent. The students coughed out laughter.

"Stephanie what?" The teacher asked once again and I turned to glare at her innocently as she gave me a sign to speak up.

"You're being too loud!" A boy said from the back when I still stood mute and he laughed with the others. I immediately assumed that he was the class frivolous and naughty one just as it is in every class.

"Sweetie?" The teacher said and I spoke, "It's Stephanie Bakewell" and immediately, a quaking laughter filled the air. There was a great storm of laughter from every single student, excluding a boy who only smiled a bit and didn't make it obvious.

"Bakewell? What kinda name is Bakewell?" A boy said with a facial expression that seemed like he just had a disgusting breakfast.

"Hmm, looks to me like her shaped is baked well," another stated, smiling from ear to ear.

"I could really use a pie!"

"Next week is my birthday. Could you do coconut milk, chocolate, and strawberry all together? Forget the candles for you light up my heart."

"That's enough! All of you listen, Bakewell is an actual name, a rare one though. Funny, but you shouldn't do this to a new student. Remember what the principal said? She deserves to feel comfortable and loved. No more unpleasant remarks."

"Yes Mrs Kayla," the class murmured.

"Stephanie, why do you bear Bakewell? You're a Nigerian."

"Um, my great grandfather was a white man who married a Nigerian woman and so the name happened... well that's what my Dad told me, the man might be lying for all I know," unusually bold, I said and the whole class laughed.

"Okay Stephanie. Looks like you're a comedian yourself. You're gonna fit right into this clown class."

"Your favourite class you mean," a boy replied.

"You guys make me sick!" The teacher said and they all laughed.

I was released to my seat which was just next to the boy who wasn't laughing.

"Hey, I'm Arthur."

"Hey Arthur, nice colours" I replied, pointing to the designs he made on his book.

"Thanks. I love your Nigerian accent."

"Really? Well I can speak your way if you want," I said in a smooth American accent and he smiled, then we turned away from each other to listen to the teacher.

I didn't let the remarks get to me at all, I strived to have an enjoyable time on my first day of school in America. All they said concerning my surname wasn't new to me because it happened everywhere I went so I preferred addressing myself as just Stephanie, excluding my family's fancy name.

During lunch break, I sat next to Arthur in the cafeteria and we had a savoury meal.

Arthur and I sat in class having a conversation when Mrs Kayla stepped in and joined in on the gist. She seemed humble and kind.

"Not only am I your English teacher but also the school's counselor. I know most crucial information about every student and I offer assistance to students on academic, emotional, and social problems. Your favourite colour is yellow, you find almost everything interesting. You seem like the shy and reserved kind." Mrs Kayla said and blew my mind. How did she know? Her words and actions toward everyone made me start to love her. I thought of making her my favourite teacher pronto.

"Yellow means optimistic, playful, cheer and a lot more. The colour suits you," she smiled. "What's your favourite fruit?"

"Ba..." I replied and she cut in, "Banana! Banana is yellow and contains serotonin which is the key hormone that stabilizes our mood, feelings of well-being and happiness." She said and I smiled again. Mrs Kayla then had to leave and I and Arthur resumed our chat as he talked about the school's system and the intriguing happenings around.

The class frivolous and naughty one then bounced into the class sportively. Arthur told me his name—Andrew, and his partner in crime, Richard.

"Hello Bakewell."

"Heyyo!"

Few seconds later, a girl walked into the class... I couldn't even testify to how she moved as ordinarily walking—she sashayed into the class in a riveting manner, with so much elegance and grace. Was she maybe a ballet dancer?

I continuously quizzed myself about her, gazing inquisitively at her.

She had her headphones on and calmly took a seat while typing swiftly on her phone with her shiny nails. Her skin was really glowing that she stood out amongst the rest. She beheld the physical potentials of a damsel. Heck, her clothes looked so steep even though she wore the exact outfit as me. We were literally wearing the same outfit!!!

Her skirt was in mini length while mine was in above knee length.

The colour of her outfit was white and black and they looked high-priced enough to get one like me who wore the same thing but less pricey, timorous.

"Who is she?" I pryingly asked.

"That's Nicole Martin. Nicky for short," Arthur answered. "She's an actress. Her Dad is one of the biggest superstars here in Olive Valley. He acts, sings, writes. Nicole is kind of a big deal here."

As soon as I received Arthur's message, I yearned to be friends with Nicole in a blink of an eye! I wondered if she was nice and clever, I wanted to know what she loved and did not; how she spoke, where she lived, what she was interested in, and if she was ingenious too.

"Uh... Steph? Nicky is not really who she seems to be. She is one sassy, strict, and arrogant human, and only nice to few people who are of the same high class as her." Arthur said, probably noticing that I was interested in approaching her and becoming friends with her.

"Arthur, ever since I was a kid, I've always had this dream of becoming a top actress and making the world a better place through fame and money, through influence. I want to help the poor and make people happy. I also love those flashing lights and cameras," I smiled at my beautiful thoughts. "I want to inspire the world." I said again with a look on my face expressing persistency and enormous fervor.

"Well I wanna become the youngest robotic engineer. Same thing in common—childhood dream."

"Really? That is amazing!"

"I love that you dream of inspiring the world. I'd also love to be an inspiration to people someday. Just... stay away from Nicky. Not only is she haughty but she's also a terrible influence to all who go near her and become her friend. Trust me."

"I trust you." I responded, but I was in no way satisfied yet. There was something about Nicky that kept pulling me to her—she was a freaking actress!

"How cool is that?" I thought. "I bet she changes her wardrobe every week," I fussily said to myself, still desiring to start up a conversation with her, but then, being influenced by a bad person wasn't what I wanted for myself.

I then thought of a new mission in my new school—rather than keeping away from her so as not to get influenced, I planned to try and change her then become her good friend. I smiled through my thoughts.

      It was all so new to me and I found it easy to adapt because I had rich friends back in Nigeria, who used to give me updates on their stay in the States; plus, I watched American movies a lot and few white people were in my school back in Nigeria.

I was so glad that uniforms weren't a thing in American public schools and I had the chance to show off my style and dress sense. "Trust me, you'll get tired of it," Arthur had told me.

In my ex school, the uniform was a grey pleated skirt above my knee and extremely long, black socks underneath and definitely not heels but annoying, formal shoes; a white T-Shirt and a grey jacket making school like hell—Nigeria is mostly hot, what do you need such thick jacket for especially during math or physics or chemistry?!

I was so new to recess and multiple lunch breaks but it was so fascinating! I used a foosball machine, played ping-pong, played basketball, volleyball, soccer, wall ball and football.

I in no way portrayed the usual reserved act of a new student. I was gregarious enough to talk to people and participate in school activities.

In my ex school, we had a short break by 10:00am just for snacks or using the rest room and a long or lunch break by mid afternoon and that was all. There was nothing like a passing period or any other period order than school work with at least six subjects a day, but school still seemed fun despite being constrained in class all day. We did have few free periods, but had some persistent teachers ruin it for extra lessons on some occasion.

We of course did sports all through Friday, in our gym outfits and as well had Wednesday to attend to various clubs.

I no longer had to load my bagpack with titanic textbooks due to available cool lockers! I did have lockers in my old school but it was there in class with me and served as a table for me; and when school was over, I'd store up my things in there and get it locked with an actual padlock.

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When school was over, after getting Arthur's phone number, I then went to use the restroom. Arthur had told me to wait for him and we would leave school together since we actually lived a bit close; and after doing business in the restroom, I left to find Arthur to inform him about leaving when suddenly, I viewed Nicky prancing down the hallway.

I couldn't believe myself when I actually halted and was watching Nicky talk to a guy. She pulled out a paper from her purse and accidentally, a flashy lip gloss dropped from her purse. She handed over the paper to the boy and walked away, leaving the lip gloss behind.

"Now's my chance," I said to myself and went to pick up the costly lip gloss. I scurried off to her and as she stood, making a phone call; I walked behind her and waited by until she was done with the call, then I tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Hey, you dropped this," I said and she slowly slid to turn to me; she shot a gawk at me. An I-don't-care reaction was spelt unsubtly on her rosy-pale face and she stood with her left hand raised halfway as her purse hung on her forearm; she leaned on one leg—a pose.

"Yeah, you can keep it," she replied and blinked twice with her lips pursed and I simply assumed that she was weirdly smiling but she actually wasn't smiling—that look told she was looking down on me but I was too gullible and making-a-superstar-friend-centered to realize it.

"Okay thanks. I'm Stephanie," I pressed further.

"Yeah, good for you."

"I was wondering if you could let me join your club," I said with a bright smile on my face and waiting for our conversation to get longer but she gave a total opposite reaction.

Before school was over, Arthur had showed me around the school and introduced me to the various clubs all over again.

Nicole headed the 'Superstars Rock It All Club' for young entrepreneurs and I was dying to join. I was waiting for the right moment to ask of her approval and I actually pulled it off!

"Gosh! What accent is that?" She asked with a horrendous look on her face like she was disgusted by my accent; inside of me, I condemned myself for not going with an American accent... or a British accent for that matter. People love some good British accent—so fancy. I felt so timid when people noticed my 'Mother tongue.'

"Um, I'm from Nigeria," abashed, I replied in an American accent.

"First off, you wondered wrong, and second, in case you don't know, Superstars Rock It All Club is a club for cool people of extreme high class and not the low ones who wear such unfortunate... Things like you. And FYI, you can never fit in here and that's the truth. Oh you think you can just poof out of nowhere, completely nowhere cause you're nobody, and then indirectly try to befriend me and I would stupidly agree to be friends with a low life like you? Hell no! Now beat it trash!" She said and strutted away.

Few of her friends gathered around her and they gossiped about the whole scene, while one of her friends claimed if I knew who she was, I wouldn't dare approach her like that.

Wow! That really melted my heart. I couldn't even think clearly anymore. Her junky words really got to me; no one had ever been that mean to me before... I didn't even do anything wrong. Arthur was right.

I wore my bagpack properly and slothfully walked out of the school, tears about rolling down my eyeballs. I met Arthur talking to his friends and I walked past him, not knowing what to say. Instantly, my Dad arrived in his car. I wasn't aware that my Dad would be back to pick me up from school, I preferred taking a stroll home like I often did back in Nigeria. I could tell from Arthur's look that he was startled by my attitude at that moment. I didn't say goodbye or inform him about my transportation with my Dad.

Dad on the other hand read my facial expression and asked what the problem was but I gave no answer.

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As soon as I arrived home, I took a long shower in order to wash away all of my worries and when I was done, I locked myself up in my room and promised myself I wouldn't exit that room until I felt ebullient again.

I also prayed to God, asking Him for help and I believed He listened.

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I broke my promise as soon as I heard Emlyn's voice in the living room. I left my room and pretended like I wanted to get a snack from the fridge. Who'd blame me? Dude had sparkling eyes and teeth.

"Hi," he smiled.

"Hi," i scowled.

"How was school today?" He asked as I followed him to the room where my Dad kept his dogs.

"Good, bad, annoying, fun, stupid, great, bad, don't ask me."

"Okay," less concerned, he replied.

"Well aren't you going to ask why?"

He chuckled softly. "Okay Steph, why?"

"I don't want to talk about it"

I stopped to hold one of my Dad's incredibly adorable dogs in my arms as it wagged its tail excitingly. "Yup. Perfect for cuddles," I said and walked out with the Bernedoodle breed dog.

Emlyn simply laughed at my silly attitude and shrugged.

I moved back to my room and I layed on my bed while gently touching the dog's furry body so that it slipped. I held it so close to my heart and played with it as it tried to give me a saliva wash in return.

It was pathetic to know that I hadn't given Nicole a piece of my mind—the Yoruba style. If I had retaliated, I would have trashed her whole generation but I wasn't trained that way. Even though the 'trainers' seemed to be capable of that.

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I woke up later in the evening and moved to the living room where my Dad sat and watched television with two other men. They had tattoos drawn all over their arms and body that it really started to give me the creeps—it looked crazily Intense.

"Oh my Princess is here." Dad said as I drew nigh gradually, gazing at the sick tattoos disgustingly.

"Really? This kid is yours man?" One of the men asked in astonishment and my Dad ostentatiously nodded. I stood beside him in displeasure.

I whispered, "Dad, I need to talk to you," not wanting to attract the attention of those men.

"What is it Olamide?"

"It's Stephanie and I need to talk to you... Privately. You know, somewhere away from here." I replied but the white men wouldn't face the television like they were doing before I showed up. They kept gaping at me.

"Oh Sweetie, you can say anything you want to, right here. You don't have to be private about anything, those guys are like your uncles"

"Olorun ma je."

"God forbids what?"

I waited for them to turn away from us and when they didn't, I had to speak up before wasting any more time.

"Daddy, you said you would make my career happen here in Olive Valley but you haven't spoken about it ever since."

Dad smiled and looked at the men,

"But we just arrived here"

"And you never spoke of it again. That's the only reason I ever agreed to come here with you and if you can't work it out, tell me so I can go pack my stuff back to my country, and back to my sales business, and back to my Mother."

"Okay, okay. Those guys sitting over there are the ones I was talking about whom are involved in the movie industry. Dale over there is responsible for that kids show you love watching, he wrote some scripts"

"Really? For reals?!" Somewhat bewildered, I exclaimed. But I was getting joyous already and starting to take that phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover,' seriously.

Later on, Dale and Patrick—the two white men, gave me some admonition and some information based on my career.

"If you dream of becoming an actor but have no experience, there are many things you can do to prepare yourself for this career; like taking acting classes, further your formal education, join a local theatre, learn about the industry, build your resume, take a professional headshot, create a demo reel, hire an agent... and a lot more. The industry is pretty competitive so you might wanna chill out a sec. Follow the necessary steps and be a patient dog." Dale said. "Since you're new to this, I could have someone give you proper guidance and information in the next few weeks."

Dale wanted me to be extraordinarily patient but I wasn't willing to allow a teenage superstar continue to intimidate me. I was just as much as beautiful as she was and I was also full of imitable qualities and potentials. I desired becoming a successful actor at once and not just achieve my goals, but also prove to that witch that I could be just as great as her.

I was massively ambitious.

Dale listened to my enthusiasm and ardent desire and then he informed me about the auditions happening for a new movie and asked me if I would like to get involved. Did he even have to ask?!

He offered me the greatest opportunity of my life and he coincided to coach me a bit but he still insisted I hold up for certain reasons that were obscure to me because I never listened.

"I don't want to wait. I need to fulfill my dreams now."

If success was that easy then nobody would be poor and life would also be much easier.

Dale shrugged, "okay girl."

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"I don't get why your daughter is rushing into this. She's got no acting experience... In fact, I don't think there's any way she'd be able to suddenly go into auditions this way if one of the producers wasn't my sister. She doesn't enjoy sentiments, you know. I'm only doing this because of you."

He continued, "Stephanie can keep pulling off school plays without having to jump into auditions like this one. Now there's just so much she needs to know, to learn..."

"That girl is persistent. If she doesn't get what she wants, she'll pack her bags. Just let her have her way and realize things for herself." I over heard Dad and Dale's conversation but it still didn't turn me down.

I did get involved in school plays back in Nigeria but it wasn't good enough. There was scarcely any chance to take up my acting career. Especially with such negligent parents.

My Mom wanted me to become a lawyer—typical Nigerian parent. She was like some of the African parents who never take their kids career choice seriously but would rather decide for their kids, what they wanted them to become.

I was impassioned about acting that I rehearsed movie lines from my favourite scenes, all by myself. I often imagined myself signing autographs, posing for the press, prancing on red carpets.

An hour later, I and Emlyn ambled around and he showed me around. I notified him about my first audition and how hyped I was about it after surmising that those guys were serial killers on an account of their insane tattoos. Emlyn laughed at me for that.

"Don't be ridiculous Steph, tattoos are cool."

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes. "You know, the first time I saw a person with a tattoo, I thought that parents put tattoos on their kids just so they can be able to identify them especially when they've got twins or more. And I was only three to think that way." I said and Emlyn immediately burst into laughter.

"Whatever girl. Just don't get your hopes too high cause there's gonna be lots of acting freaks for the same role as you, and when I say acting freaks I mean those who began the acting game from their mother's womb."

"Oh please."

We arrived at an ice cream place and we got some ice cream. Emlyn paid. Of course he had to pay—Yoruba girl remember?—we neva slack, dude always has to pay.

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The next day at school, I shyly stepped in and slowly turned to wave at my Dad in his car. I had already told him I would be doing the feet style back home since my house was not so distant from school and prove my penitence for ditching him the other day.

I walked in and some girls kept laughing and gawking at me, in fact everyone was doing so.

"Oh God, I want this to end right now," I mouthed to myself, trusting God to save me from the annoying looks. It was as if I had precipitously became popular in school for something I knew nothing about and it was all starting to give me the chills.

As I moved further to my locker, I noticed a paper hung on it. I got closer and on the paper was written, 'NIGERIA'S GREATEAT FREAK,' and underneath it, 'STEPHANIE FAKEWELL.'

I halted and dropped my jaw, looking at the horrible picture drawn on the message which was to be me. I couldn't locate the exact words to say or whom to point a finger at. Arthur then walked up to me.

"I can see Nicole got to you. You didn't listen, do you?" He said but there was no answer to give. I turned away from Arthur only to observe that I hadn't even seen the same paper hung up everywhere on the walls around the school because I was only inquisitive and keen to know why everyone was staring.

I looked at everyone stupefyingly and they took pictures of my bothered look and laughed and pointed fingers of ridicule.

"Look at the dumb look on her face!" A boy called out and they laughed even more.

I wanted an earthquake to take place at that moment so I could get swallowed by it and escape the insufferable scene. I felt like crying but Arthur already has his hand on my shoulders and was trying to get me away from there when ferociously, Mrs Kayla flung out of her office with a stick; other teachers gathered around in fury

"What is going on here? Everyone to your class this second. Lorna, Tyler, I want every single paper on the wall brought down right now!" Mrs Kayla demanded.

"Some people are just hungry for detention." Another teacher said.

"Is this what school is meant for? Nicole, to the principal's office," Mrs Kayla authoritatively spoke out of anger and the students snappily obeyed the teachers.

"But you can't prove I did anything," Nicole said as she walked out of a classroom.

"Try me. March down to that office right now!"

"Whatever dude" Nicole swaggered away.

Mrs Kayla held the stick out straight and those who stood by the corners flew away. She gripped hold of my hand and led me to the principal's office.

When we got to the principal's office, Mrs Kayla showed me where to sit and Nicole sat beside me, paying no attention.

"What is the case?" The principal asked and Mrs Kayla replied, "bullying and atrocious acts towards fellow student. Nicole Martin"

"Nicole, you being rich and famous doesn't mean you get any special treatment or attention, and it certainly doesn't give you any right to act the way you want against school policy, I've told you that a million times."

"Yeah tell me about it," she rolled her eyeballs.

"Okay here's the deal, if she bullies you one more time, let me know and she gets suspended immediately. But for now, detention." The principal strictly proclaimed and Mrs Kayla nodded in agreement. "I'll personally see to that," she said to Nicole's face who even barely cared.

On one note, Nicole didn't know she would spend most of her time learning to be good in the detention hall, and also 'volunteering' to help out in the school's cafeteria and that was why she couldn't find a reason to care.

Nicole left the principal's office as I was about leaving and Mrs Kayla patted me on the head with a smiley face.

I left the principal's office and as I walked to my classroom, someone grasped my hand and yanked me into an empty class. It was Nicole again.

"Look here your royal Highness, my Dad plays a very important role in the contributions of this school so keep your numb head busy and go think about that." Nicole harshly emphasized on the 'think' part and tossed my hand back to me in a very unpleasant manner. She did the exit thing she was fond of, whereby she would lift one shoulder up; turn around, whipping her hair to the side, at your face, and cat walk away on her designer shoes.

I sighed and made for my class, wondering how it concerned me that her father played an important role in the contributions of the school. Perhaps she wanted me to know that she was untouchable.

I greeted nervously the teacher who was writing on the marker board, "good morning sir," and went straight to my seat.

I could hear everyone in the class talk in whispers, then look back at me and laugh in mockery of me, then stare at their phones once again. Arthur's phone then beeped and he picked it up to look at it. "Oh boy," he said and placed the screen of the phone back on his table.

"What is it?" I probingly asked and Arthur answered, "nothing."

"Let me see," I said again but he refused. I took the phone myself and to my uttermost shock, it was a picture of me as a meme-—which was the face I made when I saw all those papers hung up on the wall.

I threw a deep sigh and just when I was about returning Arthur's phone, the teacher turned around.

"Hey young lady, no phones in class." He ordered me to place the phone in a box on his table and I did so, slightly embarrassed.

I couldn't believe that it was posted on such rapid-spreading place called an Internet. I felt so down in the dumps, though I was grateful to God that I and Nicole weren't classmates.

I grabbed my bagpack to get my biology textbook as the teacher commanded and Nicole's flashy lip gloss fell from it. I couldn't tell why I still had it with me, it seemed like that statement she made, asking me to "keep it"' was compulsive. I picked up the lipgloss and returned it to my bagpack.

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During lunch break, I sneaked into the abandoned teachers' lounge that I and Arthur had previously discovered. I sat there all alone until I heard a knock on the door.

I got petrified it could be Nicole or a teacher or the principal. Arthur had notified me that students were prohibited from going in there.

"Open up sweetie, it's Mrs Kayla," i heard and sighed in relief, "phew!" Then went on to unlock the door.

"Are you okay? What are you even doing here in this abandoned place?" She looked around. "You are aware of no student is allowed in here."

"Nothing. I just wanted to be alone," quietly, I responded. "How did you find me"

"I've got eyes everywhere. Don't tell me Nicole got to you. Is she still picking on you?"

"I guess." I said and Mrs Kayla suddenly opened her eyes wide. "The thing is, I don't want someone to get suspended because of me, knowing I just arrived here. She'll eventually stop sooner or later."

"Great thinking," she smiled. "I'm here for you okay? Just feel safe," she said and hugged me.

"Why are you being this nice to me? I'm black... I'm odd..."

"You know, I never really had a child and I really love kids. The doctor said I might never produce any children cause I'm infertile. That aside, you're a great kid. You shouldn't let any one bring down your worth or make you think less of yourself.

What about your colour? It's fantastic! You don't get sunburn, your skin doesn't react to everything, you rarely get irritable spots... White people are great, and black people too! We should aim for judging personalities not judging personalities through skin colour. Your body is great and you are great too."

"Thanks but..."

"There are no buts. Be confident in who you are"

I became so emotional and wondered why good things tend to see far from good people.

I waited desirously for the auditions.