The threat on Jide's windowsill didn't scare him into silence—it made him more determined. If someone was willing to warn him, then the secret he'd uncovered was worth protecting. But he couldn't do it alone. He needed proof, something solid that could back up the newspaper clipping. And he knew exactly where to start: the school's old archive room.
St. Catherine's had a small, forgotten room at the end of the east wing, filled with dusty files, old attendance registers, and records of past events. Students rarely went there; teachers only visited when they needed to settle disputes over grades or attendance from years back. Jide remembered seeing Mr. Adewale's name on a plaque in that room—_"Donated by Mr. Adewale, 2013."_
That night, after everyone had left, Jide slipped out of his dorm using a spare key he'd "borrowed" from the janitor's desk. The hallway was dark, the only sound his own breathing and the distant hum of the generator. He reached the archive room and pushed the door open. It creaked, and for a moment, he froze, expecting someone to catch him. But the room was empty, shelves of files staring back at him like silent witnesses.
He started with the oldest files, his fingers brushing against yellowed papers. After what felt like hours, he found a box labeled _"Staff Records – 2005-2010."_ Inside, he discovered a file with Mr. Adewale's name on it. It contained his employment history, but something was off—there was a gap between 2008 and 2010. No records, no explanations. Just a blank space.
Then, at the bottom of the box, he found a sealed envelope, similar to the one he'd discovered behind the portrait. His heart raced. He opened it carefully, revealing a stack of photographs. They showed Mr. Adewale at a different school, surrounded by students, but one photo stood out—a group picture with a caption: _"Teachers of St. Jude's Secondary School, 2007."_ Among them was a man who looked exactly like Mr. Bello, the teacher's aide.
Jide's mind spun. Mr. Bello and Mr. Adewale had known each other long before St. Catherine's. And whatever had happened in 2008, they were both part of it.
As he was about to leave, he heard footsteps. He quickly hid behind a shelf, holding his breath. Mr. Bello entered the room, his eyes scanning the darkness. "I know you're here, Jide," he said, his voice low. "You don't know what you're digging into. Walk away while you still can."
Jide stayed hidden, his heart pounding, as Mr. Bello searched the room, then left. He waited until the footsteps faded before slipping out, the photographs clutched tightly in his hand. He now had more questions than answers, but one thing was clear: Mr. Adewale and Mr. Bello shared a past, and it was one they were desperate to keep hidden.