The word spread fast at St. Jude's. By night, everyone at school had heard of Sheila's public defense of Ben, Mark's humiliation, and the fact that they'd walked down to the dormitories together from the main building like-a whispered Peter Kyambadde-"a proper couple."
The scrutiny pressed against him like a dense object as he balanced his tray down the dining hall. Laughter stopped. Heads swiveled. Eyes tracked him to the table with the kind of curiosity that was normally reserved for great scandal.
David waved him over to their usual table, but there was a scowl on his face. "You've stirred up a hornet's nest, my friend."
"I did nothing."
"You exist. That's enough for Mark." David lowered his voice. "Joseph was in our dorm earlier, asking questions about him. Your family, your scholarship status, your grades. Mark's building something."
Ben's appetite vanished. "Building what?"
"I don't know. But whatever it is, it won't be friendly."
At the opposite side of the dining room, Sheila sat with her usual friends-Peace, Brenda, and Fiona. Their table was filled with conversation, but Sheila seemed distracted, stirring food around on her plate. When her eyes met Ben's across the room, she smiled thinly, a small, friendly smile that warmed his chest despite his nervousness.
"She likes you," David said. "Really likes you. I didn't think it was serious until today."
"Neither did I."
"So what are you going to do about it?"
That had been the question, had it not? What was the aftermath? They had walked together once, shared some intense glances, concluded there was something between them. Yet neither had defined what the something was.
After the greeting, Ben headed down toward the library to begin preparing for the night. The normal route passed by the science lab, and he was passing the old storage room when he caught the hailing.
"Ben!"
Sheila emerged from the shadows near the lab, a little breathless. Her uniform was spotless, as always, but her body seemed to be exuding an unusual tension.
"Hi," he stuttered.
"Hi." She glanced about, searching for an audience. "Can we talk? In private?"
Ben's heart pounded. "The storage room. Behind the lab. No one ever goes there."
Sheila nodded and followed him down the narrow hallway. The storage room was as deserted as he remembered-dim microscopes, outdated books, and years of dust that had accumulated. But when Ben shut the door behind them, they seemed to have entered another world.
"Thanks," Sheila said. "For coming to choir practice. For sticking around when Mark tried to bully you."
"You're the one who stood up for me."
"Because you were worth fighting for." She took a step closer, and in the dim light filtering through the grimy window, her eyes seemed to sparkle. "Ben, I have to ask something. What do you want out of this? Out of me?"
The question hung between them, heavy with potential and danger. Ben could play it safe, could say she was just a friend, could protect himself from potential rejection.
Or he could tell the truth.
"I want to know you," he whispered. "Not the perfect girl who sings solo lines. The real you. The one behind the facade."
Sheila's breath caught. "What if the real me isn't who you want?"
"What if the real me fails you? I'm no hero, Sheila. I'm uncertain. I ran from Mark like a fool."
"But you came to choir practice. You continued." She released his hand, and he felt chilled and empty. "Do you know what bravery is, Ben? It's not absence of fear. It's doing the deed that terrifies you half to death anyway."
Their faces inch apart now, close enough that Ben could count her eyelashes, could see the gold specks in her dark eyes, could sense the warmth radiating from her skin.
"I'm afraid right at this moment," he whispered.
"So am I."
"Of what?"
"Of how much I want to kiss you."
The words hung in the dusty air between them for a long moment. Then Ben closed the space, his lips on hers in a kiss that was gentle and questioning and completely correct.
Sheila's hand came up to cup his face, her fingers trembling. The kiss grew more insistent, less tentative, more confident. Ben was as if every nerve in his body had been set ablaze, like he was finally understanding, getting a language he'd studied his entire life.
When they finally pulled apart, both panting for air, Sheila leaned her forehead against his.
"That was my first kiss," she admitted.
"Mine too."
"Good." She pressed her lips together against his. "I want all your firsts."
They dawdled in the storeroom for a further twenty minutes, whispering, stealing kisses, charting each other's geography. Ben discovered that Sheila had a little scar over her eyebrow from falling out of a mango tree when she was eight. Sheila discovered that Ben shook hands spasmodically whenever he was nervous, but froze when he took hers.
It was all there. Secret. Ours.
Until the door swung open.
Sheila and Ben sprang apart as light flooded the storage room. For a freezing instant, Ben knew it would be Mark, that they had been caught, that their secret would be school-wide gossip.
It was Margaret Akello in the doorway, her expression inscrutable.
"The night guard is making rounds," she said quietly. "You have three minutes before he gets to this building."
And then she closed the door and was gone, Ben and Sheila staring at each other in shock.
"We have to go," Sheila said, but she smiled. "A part at a time. You go first, then me five minutes later."
"How am I going to see you again?" Ben asked. "Actually, see you, not just in class?"
"Tomorrow. Same place, same time." She kissed him again, quick and brief. "Go now, before we get caught."
Ben crept out into the hall, his heart racing with terror and thrill in equal measure. He made it to the main corridor just as the beam of the night guard flashlight passed.
But after walking in the direction of his dormitory, elated by the feel of Sheila's lips on his, he did not notice the figure hidden in the shadows near the science building.
Mark Okello was frozen in place, his jaw clenched, fists in his palms. He had followed Ben from the dining hall, curious to see where Science Boy disappeared to after lunch. Now he was sure.
The store room. That was where they were congregating.
A cold, slow smile spread across Mark's face. This was perfect. Better than perfect. Because if they were sneaking around, hiding it, it was because they were aware that it was something to be ashamed of.
And shame, Mark knew from personal experience, was the best weapon of all.
He pulled out his cell phone-expensive, the new one his dad had gotten him-the one he reserved for special occasions-and texted Joseph: *Found something amazing. Tomorrow we move.*
Then he walked away, already scheming how Ben and Sheila's secret would be their undoing.