The school auditorium buzzed with energy. Rows of folding chairs lined the polished floor, the air filled with nervous whispers, laughter, and the occasional sound check on the microphone at center stage.
Expression Week had arrived.
Angela stood just behind the curtains, notebook pressed against her chest like a shield. Her name was third on the list. Not last, not hidden. Third.
Students walked past her, chatting and adjusting costumes or note cards. Gabriel was in the front row, exactly where he said he'd be. When he caught her eyes, he gave her a small thumbs-up — nothing big or dramatic. Just enough.
Her palms were sweating. Her legs, shaking.
"Next up," said the student host through the microphone, "we have Angela Oluwale, sharing a piece titled The Girl You Cannot See."
Time froze.
And then, slowly, she stepped forward.
Each footfall on the wooden stage echoed louder than it should've. The lights blinded her at first. The microphone loomed tall.
She looked out at the crowd. Faces blurred. Her hands trembled as she opened the notebook.
Then, she began.
"The Girl You Cannot See"
A girl walks alone,
Wakes to silence, and cries herself to sleep.
Smiles with one side of her face,
Because the other is too tired to pretend.
She counts her steps to school,
Hides bruises like secret tattoos.
Keeps notebooks like treasures,
Because in them, she becomes real.
A girl exists.
And I am her.
She paused. For a second, the silence was deafening.
Then came the applause — hesitant at first, then growing. Louder. Warmer. A few students stood. Gabriel was already on his feet, clapping with eyes that shimmered.
Angela stepped back, her heart pounding, but her shoulders lighter than they had been in months.
When she walked offstage, Miss Eniola was waiting. "You did it."
Angela managed a breathless laugh. "I think I did."
"More than think," Miss Eniola smiled.
Later, on the school field, Gabriel found her sitting alone under a tree.
"You were amazing," he said, sitting beside her.
"I was terrified."
"And yet you did it anyway. That's real courage."
Angela looked at the sky. It was still overcast, but there was light breaking through. Patches of blue. Just enough.
"I think," she whispered, "I'm ready to be seen."
Gabriel smiled. "You already are."