The school hallway bustled with energy as students poured out of classrooms for break. Nila hurried toward her class, balancing a tray of food she'd just bought from the cafeteria. Her mood was light despite the morning's chaos—she'd forgotten her foodstuff at home, but at least she'd managed to snag a hot meal.
She turned a corner near the lockers when she collided with someone. The tray jolted in her hands, some of the soup sloshing dangerously close to spilling.
"Watch where you're going," a cold voice snapped.
Nila looked up to see Mendel standing before her, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. His white, curly hair glinted under the fluorescent lights, his immaculate uniform a stark contrast to her frazzled state. Mendel, part of her class but notorious for his dismissive attitude, stood tall and imposing. He seemed to tower over everyone with his presence alone, his aura radiating superiority.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—" Nila started, her voice soft.
"Didn't mean to?" Mendel interrupted harshly. "That's the problem with people like you—you don't *think*. Clumsy and careless. What were you doing, walking with your eyes shut? Or are you just too entitled to pay attention to others?"
Nila froze, her face flushing. A few students stopped to watch, drawn by Mendel's booming voice. The tension in the hallway thickened as whispers started spreading.
"Maybe next time, use your head before you ruin someone else's day," he added, his tone dripping with disdain. "Honestly, how do you even function?"
As the words landed, Nila's hands trembled slightly, her embarrassment mounting. Just as she opened her mouth to defend herself, a voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.
"Abeg, Mendel," Timi said, stepping out from the crowd, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Who dash you mouth to dey talk anyhow? You fit break rock with that your yeye head wey resemble overripe pawpaw."
The hallway fell silent, the shock palpable. For a moment, time seemed to pause as everyone absorbed the insult. Mendel's face turned from smug to stunned, his mouth slightly ajar.
The tension in the hallway was electric. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, the hallway erupted into laughter. It started as a few chuckles but quickly grew into a wave of hysterical laughter that echoed off the walls. Students doubled over, some clutching their sides, others slapping their desks. Even a few teachers peeking out of classrooms looked amused.
Mendel's face flushed red, his usual composure cracking under the weight of Timi's words and the crowd's reaction. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides.
"You think this is funny?" Mendel growled, his voice low but shaking with barely restrained anger. "You think you can humiliate me?"
Timi shrugged, his face betraying no emotion but his eyes gleaming with mischief. "E go better make you calm down, oga. No be every day person dey do 'king of the world.' Relax small."
The laughter grew louder, echoing through the hallway. Even some of the teachers peeking out of nearby classrooms couldn't help but smile at the scene.
The laughter in the hallway stopped abruptly. The tension was back, thicker than ever. Mendel's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing with fury.
"You think you're funny?" Mendel hissed.
"Funny?" Timi repeated, raising an eyebrow. "No. But you? You be real comedy."
A ripple of stifled laughter spread through the crowd again, students glancing nervously between Mendel and Timi. Nila stood frozen, unsure whether to intervene or step back.
Mendel's face was a storm of anger and humiliation. Without a word, he snatched the juice carton from Nila's tray, his movements jerky and aggressive.
"You think this is a joke?" Mendel snarled, lifting the carton as if to pour it over Timi. "Let's see how you like—"
Timi's hand shot out, grabbing Mendel's wrist in a lightning-fast move. The hallway went utterly silent, the tension almost unbearable.
Timi's voice was low, calm, and menacing. "You dey try pour me drink, abi? Okay. Let me help you."
With a swift motion, Timi redirected the carton's contents—not onto himself, but straight onto Mendel's trousers. The orange liquid splashed across the expensive fabric, staining it in a vivid, unmistakable blotch.
The hallway exploded with noise. Laughter erupted from every corner, students clutching their sides and doubling over as they howled. Even the ones who had been too nervous to laugh before couldn't hold it in.
Mendel stood there, frozen, the juice dripping onto the floor. His face was a mixture of shock, fury, and humiliation.
Timi stepped back, letting go of Mendel's wrist. He looked at the mess he'd made, then at Mendel's furious expression, and smirked faintly.
"Next time," Timi said, his voice carrying over the laughter, "use your brain before you use your hand."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Unlike the other students, no one made way for him. He simply melted into the throng, leaving the hallway in chaos.
Nila stood there, her tray still in hand, watching as Mendel sputtered and glared at the retreating crowd. A small smile tugged at her lips.
----
The afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the courtyard as students filtered in and out during their break. Laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of trays against tables. Nila sat with her lunch untouched, her tray pushed slightly aside on the stone table. Despite her friends surrounding her, she felt quite the distracted person for the most part.
Her friends had been quick to gather around her, eager to dissect the morning's drama. Chiji was the first to speak, leaning in with an almost predatory curiosity. Her signature white braids, long and meticulously styled, swayed as she shifted closer. The contrast of her white hair against her dark skin gave her an otherworldly presence, one that often turned heads in the hallways.
"Alright, Nila," she began, her tone somewhere between teasing and demanding. "Spill it. What really happened? I've heard three different versions already, and I'm sure all of them are trash."
"Yeah," Claire chimed in, her British accent sharp but not unpleasant. Her caramel-colored curls framed her face as she leaned back in her seat. "Someone said Timi called Mendel a goat in pidgin. A goat, Nila. I need confirmation."
Nila sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It wasn't exactly like that—"
"Then how was it?" Lian interjected, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. The petite Chinese girl had been listening intently, sipping from her thermos with an air of unbothered curiosity. "Come on, Nila. We live for the details."
Feyi, always the most grounded of the group, rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk. "Just let her talk, you vultures. She's clearly traumatized."
"I'm not traumatized," Nila said quickly, though her voice betrayed a hint of unease. "It's just… Mendel was being himself, you know? Acting like he owns the school, like no one else matters."
Chiji scoffed. "Typical. That guy thinks his dad's bank account gives him the right to treat people like trash."
"And then?" Clair prodded, leaning forward. "That's when Timi swoops in, right? All mysterious and quiet, and then *bam*! He shuts Mendel up in front of everyone."
"It wasn't that dramatic," Nila tried to downplay, though she felt the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Oh, don't be modest," Lian teased. "I wasn't even there, and I could feel the secondhand embarrassment Mendel must've felt."
"Speaking of Mendel," Feyi cut in, her voice tinged with disdain, "do you think he'll try something? He doesn't strike me as the kind to let this go."
"He's already trying something," Clair said, pulling out her phone. "Look at this." She turned the screen toward the group, revealing a string of posts on Mendel's private social media page. The captions were vague but clearly targeted: *Some people don't know their place* and *Never let trash get comfortable.*
"That guy…" Chiji muttered, her brows furrowing. "He's going to push it too far one day."
Nila stayed quiet, her gaze falling to her tray. The morning's events replayed in her mind: Timi's calm yet cutting words, the way he had turned the tables on Mendel with almost unnerving ease. It was like he had stepped out of nowhere, disrupted the natural order of things, and walked away as if nothing had happened.
Her friends continued to chatter, debating whether Mendel or Timi would escalate things further. But Nila couldn't focus. Her thoughts kept circling back to one question: Who exactly is Timi?
----
The heavy oak door to Principal Maren's office closed with a soft but definitive click as Timi stepped inside. The room was immaculate, the scent of polished wood and jasmine hanging in the air. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, catching on the faint sheen of gold accents in the decor. It was a space that exuded authority and sophistication, much like the woman seated behind the large mahogany desk.
Principal Maren was a woman of striking presence. In her early fifties, she carried herself with the kind of confidence that made people sit up straighter in her presence. Her tailored blazer fit her like a glove, emphasizing her toned figure without being overt. Her hair, pulled back into an elegant twist, framed a face that was both beautiful and intimidating.
"Timi," she said, her voice smooth but firm. "Sit down."
He obeyed, lowering himself into the chair opposite her. His expression remained neutral, his hands resting loosely in his lap.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied evenly.
She leaned forward slightly, her hazel eyes narrowing. "You've been here for a short time, but you've managed to make quite an impression. This morning's incident with Mendel has caused quite a stir. Care to explain your side of the story?"
Timi recounted the events with measured words, his tone betraying no emotion. She listened intently, her gaze never wavering.
When he finished, she let out a soft sigh. "Timi, this is a prestigious institution. Our students are expected to resolve conflicts maturely and professionally. While I understand that you were provoked, your actions were not appropriate."
"Yes, ma'am," he said without argument.
She studied him for a moment, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I'm giving you a formal warning. This will go on your record. Consider this your chance to show me that you belong here. Next time, there will be consequences."
"Yes, ma'am," Timi repeated.
"You're dismissed."
As he stood to leave, she added, "And Timi… don't make me regret giving you this opportunity."
----
Back in the classroom, the group had shifted to discussing the aftermath of the morning's drama. Claire was scrolling through her phone, updating the others on the latest whispers.
"Timi got a formal warning," she announced, looking up from her screen. "Apparently, the Principal really laid into him."
"And Mendel?" Feyi asked, raising an eyebrow.
Claire smirked. "A slap on the wrist. Shocking, right?"
Chiji shook her head, her braids swaying. "Not shocking at all. That boy's dad practically owns this school. Of course he got off easy."
"It's not fair," Lian muttered, crossing her arms.
"Fairness doesn't exist here," Chiji said bluntly. "But still… Timi. He's something else, isn't he?"
Nila stayed silent, her thoughts once again consumed by the quiet boy who had walked away without looking back. Around her, the conversation continued, but she felt strangely disconnected, as if watching it all from a distance.
---
It starts suddenly, without warning. One moment, I'm in the classroom, feeling the dull hum of the air conditioner overhead, and the next, I'm here—standing in a collapsing building. The air is thick, oppressive, filled with dust and the acrid smell of something burning.
I don't know how I got here, but everything feels vivid and real. I can hear the groaning of the walls, the faint creak of metal bending under strain. The floor beneath my feet vibrates as if the entire structure is alive and in pain.
I glance around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The hallway stretches on endlessly, its cracked walls illuminated by flickering red lights. I recognize fragments of it—it looks a little like school, but warped and ruined, like a reflection in a shattered mirror.
Then I hear it.
"Nila!"
A voice cuts through the chaos, faint at first, almost swallowed by the noise of the collapsing building.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. "Who's there?" I call out, my voice trembling.
There's no reply, just the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway. I feel a surge of panic as the ceiling above me groans ominously. I need to move.
I turn toward what looks like an exit and start running, but before I reach it, a massive slab of concrete crashes down in front of me, blocking my path. The impact shakes the floor, and I stumble back, falling to my knees.
"No, no, no," I mutter, panic rising like a tidal wave.
I scramble to my feet, my hands brushing against shards of glass. My heart is pounding in my chest, and every instinct screams at me to get out, but there's no clear way forward.
"Nila! This way!"
The voice is louder now, commanding, and I whip around to see a figure at the end of the hallway. They're backlit by the flickering red light, their silhouette sharp and unmistakable. They're wearing a mask—smooth and featureless, like something out of a nightmare.
"Run!" they shout, their voice urgent.
I hesitate, my eyes darting between the figure and the staircase they're pointing toward. The ground beneath me shudders violently, and I realize I don't have a choice.
I force my legs to move, sprinting toward the staircase as the floor behind me begins to crumble. Each step feels like it might give way, but I push forward, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. The masked figure is waiting for me at the base of the stairs, motioning for me to follow.
"This way! Hurry!"
I climb, the staircase spiraling upward endlessly. My legs burn, and my lungs ache, but the sound of destruction below drives me forward. I can hear the building collapsing behind me, chunks of debris falling into the void where the floor used to be.
Finally, I burst onto a rooftop, and the sudden rush of wind takes my breath away. The sky is a deep, angry red, and a helicopter hovers just beyond the edge of the building. The masked figure is already there, standing at the open door, their hand outstretched.
"Jump!" they yell, their voice cutting through the roar of the helicopter blades.
I freeze, my feet rooted to the spot. The gap between the rooftop and the helicopter is impossibly wide, and the thought of leaping into the void makes my stomach churn.
"I can't!" I shout back, shaking my head.
"You have to!" the figure replies, their tone firm but not unkind. "Trust me, Nila!"
The rooftop beneath me cracks, the sound sharp and jarring. I look down and see the edges breaking apart, the entire structure ready to collapse.
I take a step back, then another, my chest tight with fear. The figure's hand is still extended, waiting.
"Jump!" they repeat, louder this time.
I don't think. I run, my heart hammering against my ribs, and launch myself into the air. For a terrifying moment, I'm weightless, the wind rushing past me.
Then, strong arms catch me, pulling me into the helicopter. I'm shaking, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
"I've got you," the masked figure says, their voice steady and reassuring.
I look up at them, their mask inches from my face. It's blank, unreadable, but there's something oddly familiar about their presence.
"Who are you?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
They don't answer.
I gasp, clutching their arm as the helicopter rises higher, leaving the crumbling building far below. He looks at me, as if I was passing out, and calls out to me:
"Nila!"
She turned sharply to see Chiji leaning over her, her expression equal parts concerned and exasperated. Her long white braids swayed as she moved, their stark contrast against her dark skin making her seem otherworldly for a moment.
"You good?" she asked, her tone softer now.
Nila nodded weakly, wiping sweat from my brow. "Yeah, just a bad dream."
"Well, bad dream or not, you'd better snap out of it," Chiji said, straightening. "Ms. Okechukwu's heading this way, and you know she's not in the mood."
She flicked one of her braids over her shoulder and returned to her seat, but I remained frozen for a moment longer.
The masked man's voice echoed in her mind: "Trust me."