The holidays were supposed to be my time for resting, but my father was a firm believer in the saying, "We can rest when we’re dead.” He also genuinely believed that he could solve the wrangle I had with mathematics; I hated maths and it hated me back.

On Friday evening, I would arrive home from school and on Monday morning, I would drag my feet to a nearby school for ‘maths coaching’, all the while cursing my father under my breath.

Coaching was like school, only that there were boys in our class. This was a pleasant change. The tall creatures with earth-shattering laughter and roaring voices were magnificent to behold.

Because of the boys, I took extra minutes applying eye-shadow, lip gloss and other chemicals on my face. I had a tomboy demeanor at school and my clothes were two sizes too big, but not during holidays. During the holidays I would tuck my stomach in and squeeze myself in dresses and blouses-there was barely enough space for me to take regular breaths.

But of all the boys that made me do things that were sure to reduce my lifespan, there was one particular one that caught my attention. His name was Isaac. And it wasn’t because he was tall and fair-skinned-which he was; it was because he was so cool, so quiet and oh so mysterious.

Isaac immediately became my kryptonite. But he didn’t seem to notice me. I found that highly insulting. I never caught him stealing glances at me. He never said hello and the onetime he said greeted me, it was in a matter-of-fact manner because he needed to borrow my pen.

Sure, whenever boys tried to talk to me, I would turn them away by pretending I couldn’t hear them even if they yelled right in my ear. I also glared at them and ignored them. But that Isaac hadn’t tried was unacceptable.

I took the long road home in order to ‘accidentally’ bump into him. I didn’t know at the time that I was doing could be defined as stalking.

One day while I was seated in class, pretending to talk to my friend who was seated a distance away but really just checking to see if Isaac was looking at me, the teacher called my name. He wanted me to solve an equation.

I stayed seated, not out of defiance but because I had no idea how to do it. I had to choose between being branded as ill-mannered and being branded as intellectually challenged. I chose the former.

Annoyed, the teacher sent me out of his class but not before retorting, "Empty tins make the loudest noise.” I was now both poorly behaved and empty-headed. Everyone laughed. Isaac laughed. It hurt.

I was now out of blood. I bought super glue and put it on the teacher’s chair. But before he could sit down, Isaac put up his hand and told him what I had done.

It was the most heartbreaking betrayal of my life. The boy I had loved, okay obsessed about, had stood there, and with contempt in his eyes, ratted me out.

I swore off boys and mended my relationship with my mathematics because not only did I want nothing to do with boys, I wanted to beat them in class. I did beat most of them. This is one of my few academic stories that have a happy ending.