Growing Yams in London by Sophia Acheampong Page A

boring!’ said Mel, as we completed the answers.
    ‘Yeah, didn’t you think the streets looked like
Coronation Street?
’ Bharti said.
    ‘That’s just what I thought!’ I added and we all sniggered.
    ‘You two are such Londoners!’ Mel commented.
    ‘When is she going to tell us about our projects?’ whispered Bharti.
    ‘Good question,’ I said.
    ‘Excuse me, I’m talking to you!’ boomed Mrs Hipman.
    We all jumped.
    ‘Ohmigod! Miss, you scared us,’ Mel said.
    ‘Well, whatever it takes to get your attention,’ she replied. ‘Right, I have your essay plans here.’
    An excited buzz immediately fell over the class. We all wanted to know if our plans could be developed into essays. I watched as everyone had their plans returned and realised that I
hadn’t received mine.
    ‘Brilliant, I can use it!’ said Bharti. ‘I just have to be careful about listing sources. Where’s yours?’
    ‘I don’t know. Excuse me, Miss?’ I said raising my hand.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Um . . . Miss, I haven’t got my work back,’ I said.
    ‘Oh yes, Makeeda, I need to speak to you.’
    The bell rang for our next lesson.
    ‘Right, ladies, I want you to start writing your essays for homework.’
    ‘Yes, Miss,’ the others chorused as they rushed out.
    ‘Miss, I’m going to be late for my next lesson,’ I said.
    I watched as she scribbled on a piece of paper and gave it to Bharti.
    ‘Are you in the same lesson?’
    ‘Yes, Miss,’ Bharti replied.
    ‘Give this to your teacher,’ she said, shoving the letter in Bharti’s hand. ‘And close the door!’
    ‘Yes, Miss,’ Bharti said, rushing off.
    ‘Take a seat, Makeeda.’
    I was actually beginning to wish I was in science with Mrs Connelly screaming at me to pay attention to an experiment.
    ‘I’ll come straight to the point.’
    Great! I folded my arms across my chest. It was obviously bad news then.
    ‘I don’t think you can create an essay using your choice of topic.’
    ‘What? Why?’ I said, shocked.
    ‘Well for a start, your grades have been floating between A and C for the past year . . .’
    ‘That’s not fair. Everyone’s grades are like that, and I’ve only ever got three Cs, the rest are As and Bs!’ I said, standing up.
    ‘Sit down. I just think this essay would be too much of a stretch for you. Besides, you won’t be able to find enough resources for Yaa Asantewaa. Pick an alternative subject for your
essay. You could do Mary Seacole,’ she said.
    She’s got to be joking! Apart from Mel and me, the other four black girls in our year had probably already claimed that topic as their own.
    ‘Come on, Miss, give me a chance. I can do it!’
    ‘Makeeda, I’m not repeating myself. Choose another topic and resubmit your plan to me by Thursday of next week,’ she said, and began sorting out her papers.
    ‘Fine,’ I mumbled.
    Within minutes I was slipping into a bench station in the science block, next to Bharti and Mel. It was nice having Mel around without Laura. It sounded mean, but I was glad Laura had gone home
early for a dental appointment.
    ‘Are you OK?’ Bharti asked.
    ‘No, not really,’ I replied, before filling them in on all the details.
    ‘Hey, put on your overall before Connelly notices,’ Mel reminded me.
    ‘Cheers,’ I said, practically emptying my rucksack to find it.
    Within minutes, Bharti was pouring a solution into the test tube (that I was holding using tongs) and Mel was using a thermometer to record its temperature before heating. I placed it in the
flame of the Bunsen burner as our conversation changed to soap hunks.
    ‘Definitely that really cute guy in the soap about stepfamilies,’ I said.
    ‘Who?’ Bharti asked.
    ‘The one who plays the older brother,’ I said.
    ‘Ohmigod, he’s soo ancient!’ Mel said, laughing.
    ‘Who are you talking about?’ demanded Bharti.
    ‘The guy who played the nerd in that school soap,’ Mel explained.
    ‘Makeeda!’ yelled Mrs Connelly, rushing towards