texted the directions, ‘around the corner from Hyde Park LOL’
they arrived at a large house behind a security gate and had to ring the bell to be let into a drive made of crunchy gravel
a maid wearing a black uniform with white pinafore let them into a hallway of marble floors, fountain, colonnades and a winding Hollywood staircase that went all the way up to a domed roof
Nenet came bounding down the stairs to greet them holding a tiny ball of fluffy white fur in her arms, her shih-tzu, Lady Maisie
here, she said, thrusting it at them, have a cuddle
Courtney was happy to oblige, even let it snuggle up to her face, cooing about how cute it was, being used to far worse with farm animals, Yazz imagined, like pigs and sticking her hands up cows’ anuses to release their constipated stools
she herself declined to touch it, not liking to get too close to things that licked their own bottoms clean
Nenet gave them a quick tour of the house, which Yazz thought was sick, as in obscenely rich sick not sick as in wonderful
Nenet apologized for her mother’s ostentatious taste in home decor, not for her wealth
please be careful what you touch, squaddies!
Yazz noticed Courtney acting as if she was honoured to have been allowed into Nenet’s life now that she’d seen how she lived
Nenet was now ‘Nenet who lives in a huge house near Hyde Park’, something Yazz couldn’t mentally undo or un-factor into her opinion of her friend
she realized that knowing someone comes from money isn’t the same as witnessing the extent of it in close proximity
they went for a walk in Hyde Park, strolled along the Serpentine in the sunshine
Yazz looked out at the blue lake and people enjoying themselves in pedalos and rowing boats
the path around it seemed to be a cruising strip for rich Arabs, the car park rammed with cars with doors that opened upwards and golden wheel hubs that could save the National Health Service Nenet, who usually wore designer sportswear at uni, was clad in a tight top, short skirt, high heels, and looped over her shoulder was a Chanel bag with a gold chain
her body language changed whenever a group of young men approached to admiringly check her over, which they did without fail, what with her cascading black hair, gleaming brown skin and toned legs
this was her milieu, she was walking like a princess, a bit up herself
Nenet always insisted she was Mediterranean, much to Yazz’s amusement and Waris’s annoyance when she tried to convince them she wasn’t black or even African as her family were from Alexandria on the Egyptian coast
you’re African, Nenet, Waris lambasted her, go on, admit it, you’re an African woman, and she’d jump on Nenet and pretend to beat her up, the pair of them squealing like six-year-olds
the Serpentine cruisers ignored Yazz who was way too dark for them (yeh and they can piss off)
they boldly slow-stripped Courtney with their eyes as if she was a chambermaid
Courtney got off on it, loving the attention
Yazz didn’t want to break the news to her
the three of them discussed university in a way they didn’t when they were on campus, but somehow today felt different, their first year had passed, the long summer stretched ahead
Yazz and Courtney were going to spend it prepping for their second year by getting on top of their reading lists, that and summer jobs would keep them busy
Waris had already started an internship at a Wolverhampton charity for ex-offenders
Courtney was about to start work in a lifestyle farm shop in Suffolk that sold cookers for ten thousand pounds
Yazz was waitressing in a hip West End restaurant frequented by oligarchs, celebrities and Premier League footballers with their trophy wives, mistresses and escorts
she made notes on her phone for her future memoir
and took surreptitious photos with her iPhone
Nenet, who was getting off on being in her natural habitat and the centre of attention, confided that she wasn’t planning on doing any reading for her Art History course because – guess what?
she blurted out that she didn’t need to
and this is confidential so pleeeeaaase don’t tell a soul, especially not Waris, the truth is that I commission my essays from a retired academic
she turned to face them, expecting admiration, approval
Yazz was stunned, replied quietly, you’re supposed to work for your degree like everyone else, I didn’t know you were one of the cheats
it’s not cheating when everyone else is doing it
that doesn’t make it right and not everyone is at it
wake up, Yazz, people aren’t going to tell you, are they? Kadim’s MBA is costing him a fortune
Yazz wondered if their friendship could overcome Nenet’s cheating on top of her extreme privilege, it explained why she could binge-watch an entire Netflix series the night before an exam and still get an A+ for her coursework
Nenet was a spoilt, lazy and immoral princess who didn’t play by the rules and would do anything to hold on to her privilege, even marry someone picked by her parents
Yazz wondered if sharing the same corridor in halls and being one of the few brown girls on a white campus was really enough to keep the Unfuckwithables together post-university, or even into their second year, come to think of it
Yazz had to work hard, to lay the groundwork for the future because she’s got to be at the top of her game, and Courtney (or rather Roxane Gay) really was right, she can see that now, privilege is about context and circumstance
and even if she was rich she wouldn’t cheat, she’s going to earn her first class degree and like Waris will bust a gut to get it, she’s not going to be ejected into the big bad world with a poor degree and no master plan, last term she met third year students about to graduate who looked terrified when she asked them about their next steps
a Master’s in Journalism beckons, in London, where she fits in and can live rent free with Mum
she’s already a regular feature writer for the student newspaper, Nu Vox, and her column, Why is My Professor Not Black?, inspired by a student conference she attended in her first term, generated more online comments than any other that month, only half of them totally ignorant, of course, written anonymously by the inbred, pea-brained, racist, cowardly, fugly and utterly friendless trolls of this planet
the point is, the article boosted her rep and she’s become a personality on campus, someone asked for her opinion by the Media Society and student radio
she’s going to try and place articles in professional newspapers and über-blogs next year, and she’s going to assume the editorship of Nu Vox in her third year, when she’s eligible
she’s going to get herself elected President of the Media Society
she’s already thinking about her campaign strategy
woe betide any pipsqueak usurpers who get in her way
she knows it won’t be easy, she’s ready for the fight
Yazz reflects on the rest of the squad
Courtney’s a really nice person, formerly naïve and uncomplicated, who’s grown so much since she first arrived at uni and is now more worldly-wise through her membership of the squad, who aren’t your typical students in the east of England, that is:
a