Telesa - The Covenant Keeper by Lani Wendt Young

the gaggle of giggling girls. Like the parting of the Red Sea , I thought derisively, and made a conscious mental note to ignore the overly beefy and overly adulated Head Boy. Obviously he was the Samoan counterpart to the American high school quarterback, the preening point guard, the freakishly good-looking jerk who would break hearts left, right and center and then graduate to a life of mediocrity. Or maybe crime, I thought with a brief smirk of satisfaction. I resisted the temptation to ask Simone for details on him and instead christened him ‘Chunk Hunk’ in my mind.
    My thoughts were interrupted by Ms Sivani’s call for quiet. Once again I was impressed by the respect Samoan teenagers had for authority. Ms Sivani was slight, her voice a thin reed in a forest of battering oak – but one call for silence and you could have heard a pin drop.
    “Alright thank you sixth formers. You’ve all been working very hard on your drama projects, so I thought we could come together for a little break. A debate break. You know the drill, two teams, only one person speaks at a time. When they sit, anyone can stand and take the floor. They get to keep the floor until they have nothing useful to say, so make sure you remember that particular instruction, Maleko!” Ms Sivani smiled to soften her words as the boys in the corner laughed uproariously and thumped a grinning Maleko on the back. She turned to write the debate topic on the board. There was a collective groan as she wrote the last word with a flourish.
    FOREIGN AID IS GOOD FOR SAMOA.
    Ms Sivani divided the class in half with an expansive gesture. “Your half is negative and this half with the new student Leila – you’re affirmative.”
    Hearing my name, I instinctively cringed and slouched in my seat. Did she have to draw attention to me? “Thanks a lot, lady,” I muttered, but not before noticing from the corner of my downcast eyes that the Chunk Hunk had turned to regard me with open interest.
    Ms Sivani continued. “The debate may begin. Remember, please keep it civil, MALEKO.”
    Another hoot of laughter from the crowd of boys around the Chunk Hunk. Laughter that had Maleko jumping to his feet and giving a grandiose bow to the class before launching into his negative attack.
    The relaxed atmosphere in the room wasn’t something I was used to. I was fast realizing that having boys in a class added another dimension that was quite foreign to me. Boys were loud. Boisterous. And occupied so much physical space. They pushed and shoved. And laughed. Joked continually. They were impossible to ignore. Especially when they were obnoxious. As I zoned out Maleko’s speech which had everyone around me in hysterics, I wondered idly – were all boys like this? Or was this just because these were Samoan boys? Hmm, food for thought. I gave myself a mental shake to pay attention as Maleko finished his diatribe and a short, stocky girl from our side jumped to her feet to replace him on the debate floor. I zoned out most of her argument, however, as I was fighting the insane urge to stare at the Chunk Hunk.
    When she sat down, our team clapped while the other side of the room began chanting. Daniel … Daniel! Our team began booing as Maleko roughly nudged the Chunk Hunk with his shoulder, “Come on man, your adoring fans are calling for you.”
    The jeering died away as the Chunk Hunk lazily stood. Like a tiger unfurling from its treetop perch, he moved with relaxed grace, seemingly unaware of the impact he had on his surroundings. The afternoon sun glinted off his messy hair, catching on red fire as he turned to smile at his team before addressing the rest of us. I tried hard to remain unaffected. To view him with disinterest. But I was fighting a losing battle. There was something about this boy that had every particle of my being on edge. I tensed with exasperation, did this arrogant idiot have to be so beautiful? Don’t worry Leila , I comforted myself, just wait for him