28/07/2025
Title: They Mocked Me for Being Ugly—Not Knowing I Would Be Their Future Boss
EPISODE 1: I Was the Girl Nobody Wanted to Sit Beside
My name is Mabel.
And when I think about my secondary school days… I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. I feel pain.
You see, I wasn’t like the other girls in class. I didn’t wear makeup. I didn’t have straight white teeth or smooth skin. I had pimples all over my face, and my school uniform was always second-hand, sometimes even third-hand.
My parents were poor. My mother sold vegetables by the roadside, and my father worked as a night guard in someone’s compound. We couldn’t afford a new school bag or new sandals. My shoes had holes underneath, and I had to patch them with cardboard and tape.
But what hurt me most… wasn’t the poverty.
It was the way they treated me at school.
From the moment I stepped into JSS1, people started laughing at me.
“Who is this one?” I heard on the first day.
“Her face looks like mashed beans!” someone shouted.
“She smells like palm oil!” another added.
And every single day after that… it got worse.
They mocked my clothes.
They mocked my hair.
They mocked my teeth, my voice, my everything.
Girls like Sandra, Vivian, and Tina were the queens of the class. They wore the finest slippers, lip gloss, and carried the latest phones. Everyone wanted to sit with them. Everyone feared them. And they hated me the most.
One day, I mistakenly sat on Sandra’s chair because the seats were not arranged well. She screamed like I had done something terrible.
“Ewwww! You want to infect my chair with your poverty?”
She made the whole class laugh. And nobody stood up for me.
Even some of the boys would walk past me and whisper things like,
“Mabel the ghost.”
“Mabel the scarecrow.”
“Who will marry you looking like this?”
I didn’t answer them. I couldn’t.
I just went home every day, locked myself in my room, and cried into my pillow so my mother wouldn’t hear.
But do you know what I did after crying?
I picked up my books… and I read.
I read like my life depended on it. Because deep down, I told myself one thing:
“One day… they will see me. And they will regret it.”
I still remember that day like it happened yesterday.
The day they locked me in the toilet like I was nothing.
It was my second term in SS1, and something big was coming up — the inter-school debate competition. Students from other schools would be there. Teachers, principals, and even some press people. It was the kind of event that could put our school on the map.
And guess what?
I was chosen to represent my class.
Not because I was popular. Not because anyone liked me.
But because I was good. I knew how to write, how to speak, and how to think. Even the teachers couldn’t deny that I was the best choice.
When our English teacher announced my name, the class went silent.
Then Sandra’s voice cut through the air.
“What?! Mabel? That ugly thing?”
The class burst into laughter.
“Maybe the other schools will faint when they see her face,” Vivian added.
They mocked me right there in front of the teacher. But he ignored them.
“Talent over beauty,” he said. “Prepare your speech, Mabel. You’ll speak first on the stage.”
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I stayed up writing and practicing. I wanted to prove something. Not just to them—but to myself. I wanted to show that the girl they all laughed at had something more than looks. Something deeper.
On the day of the debate, I woke up early. I wore the cleanest uniform I had. My mother had ironed it the night before with a hot pot, since we had no electricity. I polished my shoes with candle wax. I braided my hair myself and packed it into a neat bun.
I looked in the mirror. My face was still the same—rough, tired, full of acne—but my eyes… they were filled with fire.
I arrived at school early, holding my debate paper tightly. I kept whispering my speech to myself, practicing my points, imagining the applause I might get.
Then something strange happened.
During break time, I went to the restroom to ease myself. The building was quiet. No one was around. I stepped into one of the stalls and shut the door behind me.
And then… CLICK.
I heard a sound outside.
I tried to open the door.
It wouldn’t budge.
I knocked. I pushed. I kicked.
“Who’s there?! Open the door, please!” I screamed.
No answer.
Then I heard giggling… girls laughing.
Their voices were low, but I recognized them.
Sandra. Vivian. Tina.
“Let’s see how she will go for the debate now.”
“She thinks she’s better than us because she can speak English?”
“She will stay there and rot.”
I sat down on the cold toilet floor and started crying.
I cried not just because I was locked in.
But because… I knew nobody was coming to help me.
I was the girl they all hated. The girl nobody wanted around. The girl they saw as worthless.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, but it felt like forever.
Until I heard footsteps.
“Mabel? Are you in here?” It was Tochi, the assistant class captain. “Someone said they saw Sandra hanging around the restroom. I just wanted to check.”
“Tochi, I’m here! Please open the door!”
She called the school security, and they broke the lock.
When the door opened, I was sitting on the floor, eyes swollen, clothes wrinkled, my paper torn in half beside me. The speech I had spent all night writing was ruined.
The teacher rushed in and asked, “Do you still want to speak?”
I wiped my tears. My hands were shaking.
But I said, “Yes, sir. Let me speak. I still remember every word.”
They cleaned me up. Gave me water. I stood in front of the crowd—teachers, students, strangers—and I delivered my speech from memory.
I didn’t stutter. I didn’t cry. I didn’t break.
And when I was done, the whole hall stood up and clapped.
But after that day… something inside me changed.
I stopped smiling.
I stopped hoping they would like me.
I stopped trying to be accepted.
And I promised myself something:
“I will succeed so well that even the people who locked me in a toilet will one day work for me.”
CONTINUE FROM EPISODE 2
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