"Huma, wake up."

Huma's lids fluttered open and she inhaled sharply, stretching in her seat as she yawned. Her father was standing in front of her; his eyes squinted as he read something on his phone.

After they had sought solace in each other's arms, they gabbed for sometime, then her father had gone back to bury himself in his work while Huma ensconced herself in the study, watching a talk show until she had drowsed.

The television was turned off and her father looked ready to go out. In his left hand, keys dangled.

"Didn't you say your internship defence was two days from now?" he asked, glancing at Huma to see her nod in the affirmative while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"You got a message. It was rescheduled to hold today."

Mouth agape, Huma stared at her father, flabbergasted by the news. She sprang to her feet, suddenly fraught as her heart began thudding heavily. Why would the internship coordinators shift the date on such short notice? And she was among the first set of students up for appraisal!

"It seems they sent it sometime in the morning. Around six....it's supposed to start at exactly one," he raised his hand to check the time on his watch. "We have exactly thirty minutes to get there." Turning to Huma, he was instantly remorseful. "This phone has been turned off since yesterday. If I had known I---" he faltered when Huma darted to the door and hightailed it out of the room.

"Meet me outside!" He called out after her.

No, no, no.....

Her phone had been trampled upon by a car when it had fallen in the middle of the road while she attempted to cross over to her father on the day of her arrival. She had heard the grating crack and knew it was all over. Huma had made plans to get a new one with some of her cash rewards, but for the time being, her father had offered to swap her SIM card with his so that she could keep abreast of things whenever she wanted to--- as long as the phone was returned after.

As Huma dashed up the stairs, her mother was climbing down, and she swerved just in time to avoid crashing into her. Zainab, startled by the abrupt appearance of her daughter, uttered a yelp and leaned towards the banister she had a hand on, staring after Huma with a puzzled look.

Huma threw her door open, barreling into her room, and bustled to the wardrobe, her hands shaking a little as she plucked out the suit she had kept specifically to serve today's function and fit into, pulling and tweaking where necessary.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she contemplated her look with a cursory glance down her frame, and nodded at the immaculate nature of the suit, which was wrinkle free and clung to her body loosely enough.

It was a size too big, but stylishly so, even though she felt the woman had inveigled her into purchasing the suit, it was a good thing she had succumbed----it would serve a couple of years after now.

Her face was wan and, looking closely, beads of sweat coated her forehead, making her look sickly.

A little make-up would remedy that, she thought as she settled down in front of the dresser and hastily, but deftly, applied some powder and lipstick after dabbing her face dry.

There was no time to be artistic, not that she was in anyway, but as Huma assessed what she had done, it was amateurish compared to what she was capable of. Her scarf was out of place, so she sought out a matching hijab and swaddled her hair into it with the gentle care of a raging tornado.

Less than thirty minutes...

It was a wonder how long it took a girl to get ready.

She grabbed her school bag from where it was on her bed, its content strewn across the white sheets, replaced what she needed, and slung a strap over her shoulder before pacing to her polished flats under her reading table and slipping her feet into it.

Khadija's whining cries emanated from somewhere in the house and as Huma scurried down, her grandmother made an appearance at the bottom of the stairs. "What is the ruckus about?" she asked no one in particular, and was about mounting the stairs, but paused to gaze in the direction of the noise.

"Huma?" Jawaria looked up, drawn by the rapid footsteps. "Where are you going?"

"School," Huma mouthed as she brushed by.

She found her father waiting by the door, and he looked up when she halted before him, panting.

"Let's go." He said, opening the door for her to go through. But before she could, a hand seized hers and pulled her back, and Huma turned to face her grandmother's bewildered, wrinkly face.

"If I remember correctly, school isn't back in session, at least, not until Monday." Jawaria told them in pidgin English. She looked enquiringly at Huma, but Nadeem answered instead.

"Her defence date was shifted to today, and speaking of which, we don't have time." Nadeem started to usher his daughter out, but Jawaria held on firmly to Huma's hand, trapping her in the middle and where she was. Nadeem grappled with impatience as he scowled at the older woman.

"Can't she do it some other time?"

Huma didn't understand the worry in Jawaria's dimmed eyes when she looked at her, nor the protective grip her hand was trapped in.

"No, mama," Nadeem replied, frowining deeply. "Her name is among the first students on the list, and as such, she will be tested today. We are already late."

Just then, Zainab came in, wiping her hands with a cloth as she walked to them, her disinterested eyes flicking to the expressive faces of her mother, daughter and husband.

"You won't eat before going?" she asked Nadeem in a listless tone. Her husband shook his head and averted his gaze. Then she turned an apathetic countenance to her daughter. "And you?"

Huma shook her head as well, and turned to her grandmother, smiling reassuringly and patting the hand still gripping hers, until the old woman felt her fears allayed enough to release her. Jawaria seemed about to say something, but glanced at her son-in-law's taut face, and refrained.

Instead, she turned to her daughter with a sardonic smile. "Zainab, won't you wish your daughter good luck like every other loving mother?"

Huma gave her grandmother a sidelong glance, and then peeked under her lashes at her mother, her hand straying to a strap of her bag, gripping it nervously.

Zainab watched the shades of expectant faces before her with the same disinterest she had come in with, regarding them silently, her gaze lingering on Huma a moment longer before turning away and sweeping out of the room. Somewhere inside, her voice was strident as she rebuked the children.

Nadeem who had been quiet, placed a hand on Huma's back. "Let's go."

"As I thought," Jawaria harrumphed, "still the baby of the house. Sulky when she doesn't get her way." She turned to Huma to see her crestfallen and placed a hand to her cheek, caressing affectionately. "Cheer up. Who knows? she might just be pregnant, hormones and all." She chuckled a bit, a rough sound, and Huma's lips tipped sadly.

"Ah-ah" Jawaria gushed as she noticed Huma's bejeweled finger for the first time and grinned proudly. "You are engaged, which means you've chosen someone. I wonder who it is." She thumbed the ring absently. "We will discuss when you get back."

"Success, my dear." Jawaria smiled but there was no twinkle in her eyes.

It was a long drive to school through an unfamiliar route. And all the while, a flustered Huma pondered on the impending marriage, on her defence, on her mother. It didn't come as a surprise that her mother had just walked away from her at the house; in fact, it was expected. Her mother had been against her decision from the start and Huma didn't expect any sudden change in her attitude any time soon. Not that it mattered to her in the least, and that was because she had a price to pay-a price she was already paying. Before she was cloistered up further, she wanted to live.

Huma gazed down at the ring. She had to try.

The car pulled up in front of the venue: a recently revamped lecture theatre. Huma's heart rate picked up at the sight, in the grip of irrational fear, and her hands shook as she unbuckled the seatbelt, even if she wanted it to remain secured. Voices blared out of speakers from the inside, which meant it had already commenced.

Her father turned off the music and reached over to cover her trembling hands with his, the other on the steering wheel. Huma stopped what she was doing when he squeezed gently and looked up at him, her face wretched, her heart thudding. "I don't say it enough, but I'm proud of you."

"Do you know what form yours will take?"

"No," Huma mouthed.

"Well, no matter what they decide to do, be confident. It's all about how you present yourself and what you know, and I know you know. It's not going to be easy but you have done a lot worse, gone through a lot worse, hm?"

Huma swallowed, her mouth dry. She nodded vehemently to the truth.

"Take this," he gave her one of his phones. "Text me when you're done, and I will come pick you up."

He gave her a little shake before she grabbed her things and climbed out.

"May Allah be with you," he said, leaning forward in his seat and raising a hand.

Huma smiled and waved. She watched him drive away, and stood gripping the straps of her bag, suddenly forlorn amongst people milling about.

She turned to the theatre, no longer in a haste to venture into what she thought were dangerous grounds. It was odd that after years of being here, she still felt like she was on the outside looking in, the environment was an unfamiliar friend because, despite being accustomed to its peculiarities, unwritten rules, some parts still remained unknown and unexplored to her. It was her final year, and she didn't even know where the vice chancellor's office was---she didn't even know who the vice chancellor was.

As she walked to the revolving door, she thought about how it didn't matter, how she couldn't wait to leave. Her mother was right about one thing and one thing only: she didn't belong here. And every time she stepped through the gates, or attended classes, she was chronically reminded of that glaring fact.

Someone strode out through the door, a phone pressed to an ear, his suit unbuttoned to expose his dress shirt.

Huma recognized Kazeem, the class captain, who looked debonair and handsome in his red bow tie and black suit. His hair was stylishly groomed and his beards trimmed neatly. He looked harried as he lamented to someone on the phone, and Huma ducked and tried to move past him without being noticed, but, unfortunately, he glimpsed her way and beckoned to her as he rounded up his call.

"Huma," he beamed at her, slipping his phone into a pocket. "You have started again this semester. It's been over six months, eh, you can't just breeze by without saying 'hi'. Or did I do something wrong?"

Huma smiled sheepishly, and mouthed. "No," then made a gesture of a phone to her ears with her fingers.

"It's no excuse," he remonstrated in a bantering tone. "You could have just walked up to me and waved--as simple as that."

Huma tried to look apologetic. Even though, they were of the same faith, they never came together under any congenial circumstances. He was jovial and amiable, and that was because his position demanded it. But he was also accommodating, especially to her, and was always there when she needed some form of clarification or the other on anything at all.

"It's not your turn, yet." Kazeem told Huma when he caught her glancing at the door with worried eyes. "I talked to the lecturer to let you go last. It was unanimously agreed when I proposed to get a translator for you, so don't worry. Unfortunately, he is running a little late. That was who I was berating on the phone."

Huma was nonplussed, gasping softly.

Kazeem gave a self depreciating smile, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocking lightly on his heels. "It is not big deal; anything to make a sister's life easier. It is my job."

"Kazeem!" Someone snapped, and they turned to see a girl Huma knew as Fatima, his girlfriend, standing by the door. She was wearing a stunning suit and her hair was in huge braids."It's almost your turn." She informed him. He gestured to her for a minute, his eyes sighting something unexpected.

"You are engaged?" he asked, bemused. "And you didn't tell us?" without waiting for her to respond, he fished his phone out. "You are on the class group right? I think I have your number. Everyone needs to know so that we can celebrate with you."

He was already moving away before Huma could stop him from broadcasting, trotting towards the girl. They murmured to each other, and Huma watched Fatima press a chaste kiss to Kazeem's lips. She averted her gaze, flushing. It wasn't the first time; they were always overt with their affections.

She looked up to the clear sky when something wet pelted her cheek. It was drizzling.

With a deep breath, Huma squared her shoulders and gripped her bag, sending up a little prayer, she proceeded to go in.

*****************

The drizzling rain turned malevolent, pouring down in torrents and filling the air with a cacophony of water battering umbrellas and beating on rooftops, feet stomping hard on the ground as people made a helter-skelter dash for places to hide in while ducking under raised arms.

Face grim, Uche watched from under an extended aluminum roof of someone's shop, which had closed for the day, staring out with vacant eyes, her rolled up bed bundled beside her and her bag of clothes next to it.

Michael.

Her mind was a whirling pool of thoughts. She was sitting on the cemented floor, knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her head tipped back, lolled to a side.

It just had to be him.

Her employer had paid no mind to her pleas. No explanation. No second chances. Apparently he had heard about her theatrics with Michael, one she had all but groveled before Bisola to refrain from mentioning the little episode to the old man. It didn't matter if she had been a model employee, never received a query........it was just over. How had she let everything come crashing down? With her job gone, how was she going to deal with all her expenses? She was still far from the money goal.Where would she stay?

Shuttling herself back to the present, she reached for her bag and brought out the brown envelope.

She brushed her wet fingers along the coarse surface, trailing droplets that soaked through immediately. It was new, she thought as she ran it across her nose, sniffing. Uche hadn't opened it yet, the contents folded inside still a mystery-a mystery she would prefer unsolved.

But she couldn't. There was nowhere else to run to.

Uche found herself reaching into the pocket of her joggers for her phone. They had demanded the work clothes back and now she was wearing a plain grey shirt and black joggers. She reread the text message, and her stomach knotted painfully, reminding her that she was still yet to eat something.

Uche let out a shaky breath as she pressed the phone to an ear, gazing at the envelope in her hand as it rang.

"Yes?"

He was expecting the call...

"Did you talk with my employer?"

There was a crackle on the other end. It was raining and of course the connection would be affected but she didn't care. She let the envelope sink into the space between her knees and chest, and stuck a finger in her ear so that she could hear him better.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Liar!

"Yes, you do!" She snapped without intending to. "You sabotaged my employment, one way or the other!"

"Watch your mouth!" he growled. "Whatever happened was of your own doing alone! Just like everything else!"

Uche inhaled sharply, and then bit her lower lip, the fight leaving her.

"How much will you be paying me?" she asked in a calmer voice.

"Good. We will discuss that as soon as you have the girl."

"Were you serious about the place to stay?"

"Do I look like someone who has time for jokes?"

"No, sir."

Uche's eyes stung and brimmed with unshed tears. She sniffed as her nostrils clogged. "Why are you doing this to me? You will be putting this girl in harm's way and you know it."

The line crackled again before he spoke. "I don't have the time for this. If you are still having unnecessary scruples-

"But why?" she interpolated. "What has she done to you to warrant your attention? You don't just take interest in people, and when you do, it doesn't end well." And she would know, having experienced it firsthand.

"That, as I have earlier stated, is none of your business. That envelope contains everything you need."

Uche's vision blurred as tears rolled down her cheeks and wiping them away with the heel of her hand, she massaged her temples as a headache incited, eyes closed. "How do I get through to her? I mean she doesn't know me?"

"That, I have no control over. You will have to figure something out, being the smart girl that you are. And remember, she mustn't suspect anything," he was quiet for a few seconds. "Besides, she would be easy to get. People like her are desperate for one thing: companionship. Call me when you get settled. I assume you need time to yourself."

Uche heard the click and the other line went silent. She took the phone away from her ear and stared at the cracked screen which lit up.

She was sombre for some time, listening to the rain wane into a drizzle, listening to the wheels in her head turning as she continued to gaze, unblinking, at the phone screen, even when the lit had dimmed and clicked off.

Then she made up her mind, typing fast as she texted Sharon, her fellow church....person. They weren't friends, but circumstantial acquaintances---under the obligation of 'sisterly' love, Sharon had allowed Uche squat with her in the hostel during school sessions, before she had moved into the restaurant.

For some reason, the girl made Uche uncomfortable with her effusive behaviour, and that was just one of the reasons she wanted a place to stay---and there was the matter of taking advantage of her 'goodness'.

Hey, Sharon, long time. I am sorry I haven't called you all this while. My phone was faulty at the time. I just got back from seeing by mother, and since school resumes on Monday, I was wondering if you could accommodate me for some time. I plan to get a place soon.

As she hit send, Uche winced with compunction. She hadn't called because she never wanted to. Her phone chimed few minutes later.

Hey, Ann! Am so happy to finally hear from you! I hope your mother is alright?! Of course, you can! I am currently at the hostel waiting!

So many exclamation marks.... Uche groaned low in her throat.

That was settled. She would wait a little longer. But first things first: the barber shop.

***********

It was very late in the evening and still drizzling by the time the cab parked in front of the hostel.

Light bulbs studded the buildings in the dark, and the atmosphere pulsated with music and the underlying ambience of school life.

Uche had called Sharon to tell her that she was just few minutes away and that she would need help with her things.

Uche stepped out into the cold, just as the driver opened the boot to bring down her bag and bed. After paying the sum, she began to drag her things with her to safety before they were drenched like she was. At the entrance, Sharon smiled heartily as she rushed to Uche and foisted a hug on her.

Uche forced a smile and patted her back awkwardly.

"You cut your hair?!" Sharon gasped, her eyes popping open as she released her and drew back. "Why?!" Sharon had eyelash extensions on which made the expression a bit comical. She was wearing a big shirt over bump shorts, and her hair was already tucked into a bonnet for the night.

Uche scratched her head, wincing as she said, "I just wanted a change."

"I really liked it!" Sharon gave the cut an appraising look, and then broke into a bright smile. "You know what? It looks just as good; a bit masculine, but beautiful all the same! Let me help you with that!'

"Don't worry about the bag. I can handle that." Uche tried to take the bag from her but Sharon swatted her hand away.

"You must be tired! It shows on your face! I will take them up!"

Uche then watched Sharon tote the bag along while the bed bulged under an arm. She was standing at the entry/exit and stepped aside when some girls nudged her, telling her she was in the way.

Walking behind them, Uche strolled past the common room where the girls sat to watch the only television in the hostel, and stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the headlines on the ongoing news.

Dead body of an abducted girl found in the in north district of Aselu area.

A frisson of fear shot through her. That was where she had gone for a run. She had been so close to death.

Meanwhile, Huma was standing outside the theatre hall with a throng of other students stranded in the rain. She clutched her suit jacket tighter around her body and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. She couldn't believe how late it had gotten-well; she could with the number of persons that had gone through the grill today. Huma had texted her father, but she doubted the flooded roads would make it easy for him to get to her. What was she going to do?

"Which kain wahala be this nah?!" Someone ranted behind her. "How pesin wan take reach house today?"

Someone else hissed. "I just tire!"

Huma shuffled forward, cautiously stepping away from reach just in case anyone decided to throw a tantrum. She would not be more unfortunate---she'd had enough for one day. Lightning flashed, followed by a loud bang, and Huma shrieked, shutting her eyes and cringing. Someone snickered behind her.

"Huma? You are still here?"

Huma turned in the direction of Kazeem's voice to see him walking towards her, a hand around the waist of his girlfriend, Fatima.

"Can't leave?" he asked her.

Huma shook her head. At that moment, she wished she had brought her portable umbrella. Maybe she would have been on the road waiting for her father, instead of just standing here.

Kazeem looked thoughtful for a moment, then eyed his girlfriend who was chewing gum with such flair that huma marveled, typing away on her phone. "Why don't you spend the night in the hostel? Fatima--" he nodded his head towards his girlfriend "will accommodate you."

Huma cringed inwardly. For some reason, the girl didn't like her, and Huma didn't know why.Fatima reared up her head and looked at her boyfriend with a brow raised. He murmured something in her ear, and her forming scowl dissipated, leaving disinterest in its place.

"Okay." Fatima said absently.

"Thank you, love." He kissed her on the cheek then turned to Huma. "I take it you've never slept in the hostel before. Welcome the experience." With that, he bounded off to a couple of guys hollering at him before Huma could protest.

"Let's go," Fatima said, reaching for the umbrella in her hand bag and pulling it up and above their heads. Reluctantly, Huma followed, careful not to brush her body with hers.

"Make I join una nah!" Someone called out after them.

"Go buy your own!" Fatima responded, yelling back. "An umbrella is not expensive. Today will teach you some sense!"

As they tread through ice cold water, sidestepping puddles and jumping over large pools of water, the rain pelting down on the umbrella, Huma felt a strange feeling washed over her, something altogether different. Maybe it was the thrill of seeing something new; doing something outside the mundane life she lived. Whatever it was, it felt exhilarating.

When the hostel loomed out in the darkness, it was like seeing a cluster of stars knitted into a blanket before her. As they approached, getting closer, the atmosphere came alive with something....something she couldn't describe. She had never been to this part of the school in all the years she had spent, and so the sight held her captivated.

Hall 2

Huma tarried as she read the engraved word just above the entry, turning once again to look around her before hurrying to pace beside Fatima who was walking ahead. The place was brightly lit on the inside, contrasting the darkness engulfing the evening into night outside, and scantily clad girls loitered, wandered and milled about. Huma flushed. She had never seen so much skin before.

Enthralled by the sight, she wasn't looking as she bumped into someone, staggering back on impact.

"Ouch!" a feminine voice screeched, "Watch where you are going!"

Huma distanced herself immediately and looked up to the pained face of the beautiful girl she had ever seen.

Her short hair sprung curls that fell towards a stunning oval face, fringing her forehead with strays, which a fine neck held, like a glorious crown, over a body bound to enkindle envy.

In the artificial glow of the place, Huma could tell that her skin tone favoured the lighter palette of colours. The girl's face was in a grimace of both annoyance and pain, but just underneath the mix, she could sense something hidden and smouldering. It was too dark to make out the colour of her eyes, only just enough to notice her clothes sticking to her body, sodden with the rain.

The girl bent over to rub a toe, making Huma realise she had trod on her, and when she straightened, ready to berate her, Huma braced herself, but then the girl stopped, squinting at her with something akin to recognition. Which, Huma thought, was odd: she wouldn't forget such an indelible person as she was the kind to stick to memory.

Huma raised her hand in a gesture of apology but the girl, no longer looking offended, hardly seemed to acknowledge it, as her eyes became somewhat distant.

Leaning to the side to see a silhouetted Fatima on the stairs at the far end----because the girl was much taller than she was--Huma smiled ruefully, blushing with shame, before shuffling past, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.

After Fatima pointed out her room on the third floor, Huma informed her that she would be studying in the reading room they had past for a while, not at all sleepy yet.

"Okay," she said with a bland smile.

When Huma entered the reading room, only a girl at a table, hunched over a book, studying while surfing the internet on her phone, was inside. The plain faced girl looked up as she entered and Huma smiled in greeting, but she looked away like her presence barely registered.

Great..

She settled down on a seat at the other end after wiping it clean with her palm, suddenly wanting to keep her distance, and nestled her bag into her side.

She released a shaky breath and rested her head on the table, her eyes dropping close, drained from the day and seeking a bit of respite. The defence had gone partly well, thanks to an emphatic class captain who had more than alleviated her plight, but even with a translator, she had been the same: timid, afraid. Overall, she had managed, but would it be enough?

Huma thought to inform her father of her decision to pass the night in school and sent a quick text message, telling him she was in safe hands and would be waiting at the green park very early in the morning.

His reply was fraught with concerns, but she allayed them by insisting her course mate had 'gladly' obliged to help, to which he relented, because he trusted her decisions and besides, his car was trapped at the moment in traffic an had been so for the past few hours.

Satisfied, Huma brought out a textbook on power systems and began to read through, leaning back in her seat.

Classes would commence soon and as usual, she prepared before the lectures truly started. Some minutes later, she heard the door creak open and glanced up to see the plain faced girl exit the room, leaving her alone. Moments later, the door opened again, and Huma didn't bother looking up this time, only aware of someone entering by the unhurried footsteps that registered in her subconscious.

There was a rustle of paper and a heavy thud as something hit the floor, then a sharp cry rang out.

"My phone?! Where is my phone?!"

Huma rose to her feet with a perplexed look on her face, the distress of the plain faced girl causing her concern. The girl was frantic with worry, her face flustered, and a hand holding her head like she was trying to rack her brains for an answer to a difficult question. Then she caught sight of Huma, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, and her face contorted with rage. Huma's eyes widened.

"You!" She jabbed an accusing finger at Huma and matched angrily to stand in front of her. "Where is my phone?!"

Huma was shaking head vehemently, denying the accusation and trying to step away from the confrontation when the girl seized her by the front of her chiffon top, bunching it up in a tight fist.

"Eh? You better produce my phone. If you don't want to be beaten within an inch of your life here!" she spat, getting in Huma's face.

Fright shot through her, causing her heart to race in her chest.

I didn't take it Huma wanted to say but she couldn't, instead she made whimpering noises in her throat, on the verge of tears. She had never stolen anything in her life.

"You think this will deceive me?!" She snarled, tugging hard at her hijab. "I know you people. You are all thieves and killers! I said give me my phone!"

Some people trooped into the room drawn to the commotion, and soon there were surrounded.

"What is it?!" A girl holding a blackened pot in one hand asked, her gaze flicking from Huma's panicked face to the infuriated girl.

"My phone. I left it here and went out, only for me to find it missing on returning!" She ranted, her enraged eyes never leaving Huma's face. "I go beat you, eh!" she shook Huma violently.

"Have you checked her bag?" someone suggested. And before Huma could protest, her bag was unzipped and inverted, it's content strewed on the table.

"Is it this one?" Another girl in a nightdress held out Huma's phone for the plain faced girl to see, and she shook her head.

"Someone should call security. We don't want a fight in here."

Someone jostled through the throng and stepped forward. "Is this it?"

Tears already streaming down Huma's cheeks blurred her vision, but the person before them holding up a phone was familiar: the beauty from the common room. At once, the plain faced girl released her, and Huma stepped back, a hand to her chest as violent breaths racked her body.

"Where did you find it?" The plain faced girl asked, bemusement and relief splaying across her face as she took back what she had lost, her mouth agape.

"Outside. You walked past me with a textbook and it fell out."

The plain faced girl regarded her with her brows creasing as she tried to remember. "Thank you." She finally said.

The beautiful girl nodded her head. "Now apologise to her."

The plain faced girl looked around, her face flushing angrily, then with a grudge in her voice, she said. "Sorry."

Some people tsked; some shook their heads in remonstration; some hissed; a few apologized on the girl's behalf before filing out of the room. All, except the lovely girl with the nice hair cut who lingered and watched her quietly.

"You're welcome." The girl said after a while of holding Huma' gaze.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving Huma to stare after her, petrified by what would have happened.