Grace nodded and reached into her small purse, counting quickly before handing it over. “Yes.”
The girl collected the money, but instead of leaving, her eyes dropped to Grace’s tray.
“Pure water, biscuits, airtime.” She tilted her head slightly. “So this is what you do now?”
Grace didn’t answer. She adjusted the bottles on her tray as if she hadn’t heard.
The girl gave a short laugh. “Interesting.”
Her friends had gathered behind her now.
“Isn’t she the one that used to hang around here?” one of them said.
“The same one,” the girl replied.
Then she looked directly at Grace and said clearly, “Gate girl that wants to be a lawyer.”
The girls laughed.
For a brief second, Grace’s fingers tightened around her tray, but her face did not change.
“Your change is complete,” she said calmly.
The girl—Vanessa Cole—took one last look at her, smiled in a way that didn’t feel friendly, then turned and walked off with her friends.
Grace stood there for a moment after they left. She didn’t move immediately. Then she took a slow breath, shifted the tray on her head, and continued calling out to customers as if nothing had happened.
Later that same day, when the crowd reduced, she moved closer to one of the lecture halls. She stood just outside the window, pretending to arrange her things, but her ears were focused inside.
“Offer, acceptance, and consideration form a valid contract,” the lecturer said.
Grace leaned slightly, careful not to draw attention. She stayed until the lecture ended, holding onto every word she could catch.
From that day on, it became her routine. From one class window to another, from one voice to the next, she listened, memorized, and stored everything.
After lectures, when students left in a hurry, she moved around quietly, picking up what they left behind—a torn handout here, a half-used notebook there. Some pages were dirty. Some were incomplete. But it didn’t matter. At night, she spread them across her bed and read as if her life depended on it.
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