Scarlet had never really noticed how long the corridors were until that moment. Maybe it was just the way silence stretches everything. She walked slowly that Thursday morning, gripping her books a little tighter than usual. The air felt too still. The halls seemed too pristine.
Rudd was absent again.
It had been two days since he'd collapsed, and although he'd shown up in class briefly, he hadn't really spoken since then. Not to her, not to anyone. It was as if they had built something fragile between them—then he just retreated into himself before they could figure out what it meant.
In Biology, she found herself glancing at the door every five minutes.
"Scarlet," Miss Chioma called sharply. "Do you want to take over teaching the class?"
Heads turned her way.
"No ma," Scarlet muttered, feeling her cheeks flush.
After class, Amara slung an arm around her shoulders.
"You know you're not being subtle, right?"
Scarlet shrugged. "Not trying to be."
Amara gave her a small smile. "Just remember what I told you: don't carry people who don't want to be carried."
"Rudd's not like that."
"You sure?" Amara raised an eyebrow. "Because right now, he's acting like you're a stranger who borrowed his hoodie and took forever to give it back."
Scarlet let out a dry chuckle before it faded. "I think there's something happening with his family."
Amara tilted her head. "Have you asked him?"
"No."
"Maybe you should, instead of waiting for him to spill everything through a drawing."
That hit harder than Scarlet cared to admit.
Meanwhile, Dapo had started hanging around her group more often. He was louder now, making bolder jokes, exuding a kind of confidence that drew laughter without full trust. She enjoyed his company, but it was evident—he was no longer just being friendly.
"You going to the Socials Club meeting?" he asked later that evening.
She hesitated. "Maybe."
He flashed a grin. "Cool. I'll walk with you."
She wanted to tell him no
She couldn't.
The Socials Club was always buzzing, a nice break from the monotonous school routines. They were gearing up for the annual "Hustle Day" event—an excuse to sell snacks, organize silly games, and pretend life wasn't all about test scores and curfews.
Gabriel sat at the back, as usual—still part of the club, but everyone could tell he no longer barked orders. Since his demotion, he carried himself differently. Less noise, more tension.
He caught Scarlet's eye for a fleeting second before looking away.
Dapo, on the other hand, was in his element. Suggesting themes, cracking jokes, taking charge of a group planning a drama sketch.
"You'd be perfect for the female lead," he said to Scarlet after the meeting.
"I'll think about it."
"You should," he replied, his voice softer now. "People need to see what I see when I look at you."
She blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged, trying to appear casual. "You really shine when you're not pretending everything's okay."
Scarlet found herself at a loss for words. For a brief moment, she wondered what version of herself Rudd saw.
That night, she stayed back in class to finish her notes.
Rudd came in quietly, sitting in his usual spot—two rows behind her. He opened his book, scribbling something without saying a word.
Scarlet turned slightly. "You're not going to say hi?"
He didn't look up. "Didn't think you wanted me to."
She frowned. "What's going on with you?"
He sighed. "Nothing."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Say nothing when it's obvious there's more to it."
Rudd stayed quiet for a moment. Then he spoke. "My dad lost his job."
Scarlet felt her breath catch.
"And my mum," he continued. "She's sick again. The hospital bills… they're throwing everything out of whack. My sister might not be able to continue school next term. And me? I'm just trying to get through this year without losing my mind."
"I had no idea," she said softly.
"I didn't want you to."
"Why not?"
"Because you have this perfect image of me in your head. I didn't want to ruin it."
"That's dumb," she whispered.
He smiled, but it was bitter. "I know."
She stood up, walked over to his desk, and sat on it. "You could've just told me."
"I'm not used to being listened to," he muttered.
"Well, you better get used to it," she replied.
Later, she asked softly, "Will you be okay?"
He looked at her as if she were the only clear thing in a blurry world.
"I'm not sure," he said. "But for once, I want to stop pretending I am."
She nodded slowly and then handed him the little juice box she'd been saving in her bag. "Start with this. It's pineapple juice. Your favorite."
He blinked, surprised. "How did you know?"
She shrugged. "Some things are easier to notice than to say."
By lights-out, the school was quiet again. Still, Scarlet stayed up under her covers, scrolling through old messages.
There were no "I miss you"s. No "I like you"s. Just doodles, shared glances, her name written in sharp pencil lines, laughter echoing across a classroom.
But sometimes, the things left unsaid were louder than full paragraphs.
Somewhere in the silence between them, something still flickered with life.
And slowly, painfully, it was finding its voice.