Scarlet showed up late to morning assembly. Again.
Her shirt looked sharp and pressed, but the dark circles under her eyes were a dead giveaway. As she fell into line, whispers rippled behind her like waves. Even the younger students were talking now.
She was "that girl"—the one being looked into.
But Scarlet had learned to use silence as her armor. She kept her chin high and lips sealed. Even when Mrs. Eghosa, the Vice Principal, shot her a lingering glance during the address, she didn't flinch.
Rudd sat in his row in the boys' section, struggling to make sense of what he felt inside. He wanted to reach out to her, but something felt off. The distance between them seemed to be widening, and he couldn't pinpoint when it had started.
During break, the school felt stifling hot. A dry breeze swept through the courtyard, lifting papers, wrappers, and dust into the air. Rudd was perched on a low fence near the art block, sketchpad resting on his knees. He hadn't done much drawing lately, but today his pencil danced across the page with restless energy.
It was Scarlet.
Her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if the weight of the world was pressing down. Her gaze was distant, lips parted as if she was holding back a flood of words.
He shaded carefully, trying to capture on paper what he couldn't say.
Meanwhile, Scarlet found solace in the library—her little escape. Amara found her there, setting a bottle of water next to her.
"You haven't eaten," Amara murmured.
Scarlet stayed silent.
"They're saying Dapo was the other person," Amara added cautiously.
Scarlet's fingers stilled above her notes.
"I knew it," she breathed. "I shouldn't have helped him. I shouldn't have—"
"No," Amara cut in. "That's not your fault. You didn't cheat."
Scarlet looked up. "But I let him use me."
Amara sighed. "Scar, you trusted someone. That doesn't make you guilty."
Scarlet swallowed hard, feeling the burn in her throat. "Trusting Rudd didn't work out either."
"You trusted him?"
"I did. And I still can't figure out why he backed away."
Dapo was waiting outside the staff room when Miss Ifeoma called him in.
His heart raced. He tried to appear at ease—hands in pockets, one foot crossed over the other.
Inside, Mrs. Nduka and Mr. Oboh sat beside Miss Ifeoma.
"Dapo," she began, "we've gone over your scripts. Your answers in Chemistry, especially section B, mirror Scarlet's almost perfectly."
He shrugged. "I studied with her."
"But this isn't just similar. It's word-for-word identical," Mrs. Nduka interjected. "Even the diagrams."
Dapo shifted nervously in his seat.
"So what are you saying?"
"We're saying the investigation is still ongoing. But we need you to be truthful," Mr. Oboh added. "Did you copy from Scarlet?"
"No," he replied emphatically.
"Did she help you cheat?"
"No," he repeated. "She shared her notes. That's it."
Miss Ifeoma leaned in. "Dapo, if this goes to the board and we find out differently... it won't just end with a warning."
He clenched his jaw. "I didn't cheat."
But as he walked out, he felt the weight of his steps. Because deep down, he wasn't entirely sure if what he did was cheating.
By evening, clouds rolled in. Scarlet stood by her dorm window, watching the grey sky merge with the campus below. Her stomach was in knots—not from hunger, but from anxiety. She could hear the low hum of gossip outside, the chatter of younger students pretending not to watch her every move.
A gentle knock came at the door.
She turned. Amara again?
But it wasn't.
It was Rudd.
She froze.
He held a sketchpad in his hand.
"I drew something," he said softly.
She blinked. "You came all the way here just to show me a drawing?"
He stayed steady. "I didn't know how else to say I'm sorry."
She stared at him.
He handed her the sketch.
It was her—sitting in the library, lost in a book, worry etched across her face, but light streaming in from a window behind her, wrapping her in a quiet strength.
"It's beautiful," she murmured, barely audible.
"I should've said something when I saw Dapo getting close. I should've fought harder."
Scarlet looked away. "You don't owe me anything, Rudd."
"I didn't want to lose you. But I didn't know how to hold on."
She closed the sketchbook. Her voice trembled a bit. "Then maybe we were destined to fall apart from the beginning."
He looked like he might say more, but instead, he turned and left.
Later that night, Dapo sat alone in the common room. Jide was out with some other boys. The place was eerily quiet.
He picked up his phone and opened Scarlet's contact. He hovered over the chat.
Typed: I'm sorry.
Deleted it.
Typed again: Can we talk?
Deleted it.
Finally, he locked his phone and tossed it beside him. His reflection in the glass window looked like a stranger to him.
At lights-out, Scarlet lay awake in her bunk. Her roommate was snoring softly nearby. The sketchpad Rudd had given her lay on her chest.
Her name was being dragged through the mud. Her future hung in the balance. The two boys who tugged at her heart in opposite directions were both tangled in the mess.
She felt unsure of who to trust anymore.
But something deep inside whispered: This isn't the end.
It's just the beginning of something much tougher.
And outside, as the rain started falling, it didn't wash anything clean. It only highlighted the lines in the dust.