High School Heart Collisions

Godiva POV

Looking back in time, I would have heeded Mum’s constant nagging and reminder to stay away from men. She would always say, “Diva honey, money ain’t the root of all evil, men are.” We would always laugh about this every day, because a day didn’t go by without me receiving that sermon.

I am Godiva Scott, an eleventh‑grader at Bread of Life High School, BROL for short. I grew up in the slums of Mavick City. This City was the biggest in our state; if you lived there, you were either a politician, a CEO, or a big shot. The only place where you’d see a story building was in the slums. Most houses there were huge mansions with at least three‑story buildings.

If you went to the park, you would always see the rich brats taking ice cream while disrespecting their parents, the kind of disrespect you would never find in the slum. Whenever people heard I was from there, they always gave me the “rich‑bitch” look, which always changed to disgust when they learned I lived in the shabby nurses’ quarters.

The buildings in the quarters were nothing short of dilapidated; they were certainly beautiful, but every corner had a smelly drainage. The houses were three‑story structures that looked as if they were on the edge of collapsing. The hangout, the sports corner, was always full of agile youths playing; the park always had shows going on with very loud and entertaining music. We lived there because Mum worked as a nurse at Big Mav Hospital, one of the biggest hospitals in town.

Dina was my best friend in the world, safe to say, my only friend. Her skin was as radiant as the sun; she was always outspoken and troublesome, definitely the life of the party. Dina and I practically grew up together, back in the quarters. We were called the “DI TWINS”; as kids we always cried when we were called that, but later we grew to love the name.

The secret wasn’t just in our names. While kids our age were either obese or malnourished, we were slim, sleek, pretty, with long hair, safe to say, the perfect models. It was the other way round in school; we were that weird pauper duo who would always be in a corner laughing at the slightest thing.

The first love letter I got was on June 12th, precisely. It was a rainy day. I sat by the window watching everyone make the best of their recess hour, admiring the rich brats who were spending lavishly by the ice‑cream truck, the well‑built boys playing football on the pitch with their shirts off. I was lost in the moment when I was suddenly interrupted by a loud slap on my back.

“Ouch, who the hell is…?” I said, turning to see Dina smiling in her usual creepy manner.

“God saved you; I’d have slapped you hard across the face. How haven’t I gotten used to this trashy way of announcing your presence?” we both laughed, and then Dina suddenly stopped laughing while handing me a neatly folded paper.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking up at Dina.

“Take it and open it, babes. I’m equally curious,” Dina replied. We had a “no‑much‑questions” rule, so I gently took the letter from her and gradually opened it.

Dina and I started reading the letter with full curiosity:

Dearest Diva, I don’t know if saying my feelings in this manner is worth it, but all I know is my feelings are genuine. I’m sure you’re wondering how you caught my attention. Who wouldn’t notice a damsel who always sits pretty by the window, a damsel whose aura is felt from a distance? Your always‑pretty side‑smile sends my heart racing.

 Not to cause a misunderstanding, I really hope you give me the rare privilege of being your man. I can’t wait to have you as my woman and show you off to the school as the only woman to successfully capture my heart. Saying this just to ease the tension, but I’d love to ask, are you death? Because you take my breath away. I hope I was able to make the woman of my dreams smile. Please be my girl, Diva.

WITH LOVE FROM LEO

For a minute, the world fell silent; all I could hear was the echo of the message Leo had just sent. Dina looked at me in amusement, as if we communicated with our eyes. We burst out laughing at the same time.

I couldn’t stop blushing, no matter how hard I tried. Leo, of all people, was the last person I’d have thought would even pay attention to me. He was the most famous boy at school, as expected, the captain of “Atlantis,” our school’s basketball team.

I suddenly stopped basking in the moment, as if slapped back to reality. I turned to Dina. “How did you get the letter again?”

“While returning from the mart, Kyrie stopped me and said to give you the letter. Oops, I almost skipped. He said you two should meet and talk after closing hours; he’d be waiting at the admin lobby,” Dina said.

I guessed Leo had passed me the letter through his teammate Kyrie. I began freaking out; I didn’t know how to react. Unlike me, Dina was chill; she’d received countless such letters because, compared to me, she was accommodating. I looked at her, knowing she definitely had a plan, the only problem was that her plan could be wild.

My heart beat rapidly as I folded the paper again. I acted as if hiding the paper could undo the fact that it existed. I excelled in math, but this love dynamic was never my specialty.

“Calm down, Diva, you’ve got this,” I whispered to myself. Around us, the hallway buzzed with laughter and excitement. Lockers slammed, and the sound of shoes struggled to jolt me back to reality, but I zoned out. Everything felt distant. I felt like I was floating in space.

I hadn’t even read the letter properly, but the fact that my name was written in Leo’s handwriting sent waves of excitement down my chest. It was louder than a confession; it gave me butterflies in my tummy.

Something felt really off; the way Dina’s eyes gleamed with mischief, the kind she used when she was up to something. Her subtle smirk. I couldn’t really point it out, but I was too excited to be bothered by that.

“Relax,” she whispered, tugging me closer. “You don’t have to decide anything now.”

But that was the problem; I knew decisions had a way of being made for me.

As the final bell rang, the students crowded the hallway like packs of hungry wolves, and I couldn’t trace my steps. My heart pounded as my phone vibrated in my pocket.

One message. Unknown number.

“Meet me. Tonight.”