I’m struggling through a rabbit’s pelvic girdle. It’s turning out pretty but then I might run out of time if I don’t speed up. Someone near me announces, “There are people at the door who want to see you.”

“Who?” I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know them. Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

In my head, I know who they are and I’m mad at them. I’ve thought of a response which I’m ready to snap out of my lips. Angrily I open the door for them but when I see them my lips tightly shuts as I swallow the words, startled.

I’ve seen him before, and talked with him.

He’s in a red t-shirt and white jeans, like most of the times I’ve seen him. Tall. Suddenly my attention goes to the way I’m dressed. Hair tied in a bun, my favorite shirt, blue jeans and matching converse. Good enough, I guess.

His friend is in a long Portugal jersey that makes him look shorter than he already is. I manage an uncomfortable smile midway between embarrassed and relieved.

“Rumour has it  you’re a good rapper. Is that true?” The taller one asks me.

I’m surprised, but I don’t ask them how they found out for I already know the answer.

“I’m only okay. And I can barely manage all the gestures you may be looking for.”

While I’m talking, I tilt my head to look for his name on his identity card, that our school forces us to wear every time, tilted 90 degrees clockwise.

Of course, I’ve heard this name before.

“You wanna sing in the Welcome Programme?”

I repeat the gesture thing. “You’ll be okay. You’ll learn them easy. ‘Moment for Life’, what do you say?”

“Nicki Minaj?” I ask.

“And Drake, yeah.”

“Fine by me. Listen, I’m not yet done with my homework, so gotta run. I’ll see you after class, okay?”

As I head towards my chair, not looking back, I smile at that moment for life. Now that’s something.

Joshi is a +2 graduate from St Xavier’s College