CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE: THE QUESTION I SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED
The funny thing about rumours is that they never truly disappear.
They either grow.
Or transform into something worse.
By Friday morning, the story had spread so far that even students from other classes were discussing it.
People who had absolutely nothing to do with the situation suddenly became experts.
Some claimed they knew the girl.
Some claimed they knew the boy.
Some claimed they witnessed everything.
Liars.
Every single one of them.
I was arranging my books before first period when Daniel dropped into the empty chair in front of my desk.
"Good morning."
"You look suspicious."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
I rolled my eyes.
Typical Daniel.
He rested his arms on the desk and grinned.
"You've been thinking."
"Everybody thinks."
"Not like this."
I immediately became defensive.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you've been looking distracted for days."
I looked away.
Because unfortunately, he wasn't wrong.
The whole Samuel-Gift-rumour situation had occupied more space in my mind than I wanted to admit.
Daniel noticed my silence.
Then surprisingly, his smile faded.
"You know you can ask me if something is bothering you."
I blinked.
That wasn't the response I expected.
Usually, Daniel teased first and behaved seriously later.
Not the other way around.
"I'm fine."
"Hm."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
But his expression suggested he didn't fully believe me.
Before he could continue, Gift entered the classroom.
The moment she walked in, conversations around the room dropped slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough for it to be obvious.
People were watching her.
Observing her.
Analysing every movement.
Exactly the kind of thing boarding school students enjoyed doing.
Gift ignored everyone.
She walked calmly to her seat.
Opened her notebook.
And acted as though the entire class didn't exist.
Honestly?
I respected that.
Because if it were me, I would probably have hidden inside my locker.
Daniel noticed too.
"People are annoying."
I looked at him.
"Since when did you become sympathetic?"
"Since students started behaving like detectives."
I laughed softly.
For once, we agreed.
...
By break period, the classroom was almost empty.
Most students had gone to buy food or stretch their legs outside.
I remained behind.
Mostly because I needed to finish an assignment.
And because the sun outside looked angry.
Very angry.
The type of Nigerian sun that makes you question your life choices.
I was halfway through my work when somebody sat beside me.
I already knew who it was before looking up.
Samuel.
"You're always reading."
I frowned.
"No, I'm always trying to survive assignments."
He laughed.
Then glanced at my notebook.
"Chemistry?"
"Unfortunately."
"Sorry."
I smiled despite myself.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
The classroom remained unusually quiet.
Only a few students were present.
The perfect opportunity to focus.
Unfortunately, my brain had other plans.
Because suddenly—
A question entered my head.
And refused to leave.
I tried ignoring it.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed again.
Eventually—
I made the mistake.
A terrible mistake.
A dangerous mistake.
One of those mistakes that leaves your mouth before your brain approves it.
"Can I ask you something?"
Samuel looked up.
"Sure."
Immediately, I regretted everything.
But it was too late now.
Way too late.
I swallowed.
Then asked:
"Did somebody ask you out?"
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the classroom fan suddenly sounded louder.
Samuel stared at me.
I stared back.
Then immediately wished the ground would open and swallow me.
Why did I ask that?
Why?
Why?
Why?
His eyebrows slowly rose.
"Who told you that?"
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
Not only had I asked the question.
I had apparently confirmed the rumour.
I looked away.
"Nobody."
"Floral."
I groaned.
"Fine."
Samuel laughed softly.
"Who told you?"
"Everybody."
That answer wasn't even a lie anymore.
At this point, the entire school knew.
Samuel leaned back in his chair.
Looking amused.
Far too amused.
Then surprisingly—
He nodded.
My heart skipped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Wait.
What?
"It happened?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Samuel looked towards the classroom door.
Then back at me.
"Sort of."
Sort of?
What kind of answer was that?
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then smiled.
A small smile.
The annoying kind.
The mysterious kind.
The kind that created more questions than answers.
"What does 'sort of' mean?"
Samuel laughed.
"It means exactly what I said."
"That explains nothing."
"Good."
I wanted to throw my pen at him.
Respectfully.
Very respectfully.
"You're impossible."
"I've heard that before."
"From who?"
"You."
Unfortunately, he was right.
Several times.
Maybe too many times.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other.
Then unexpectedly—
His expression softened.
Just slightly.
"Why do you care?"
The question hit me immediately.
Hard.
Dangerously hard.
Because honestly?
I didn't have a safe answer.
Not one.
Not a single one.
My heart started behaving strangely again.
That annoying thing it did whenever Samuel asked direct questions.
I looked down at my notebook.
Pretending to organise pages.
Pretending not to hear properly.
Pretending to be busy.
Samuel wasn't fooled.
Obviously.
"Floral."
"Hm?"
"You didn't answer."
I swallowed.
Then forced a shrug.
"Just curious."
"Hm."
The way he said it made me feel exposed.
As though he could see straight through the lie.
Thankfully—
The bell rang.
Saving my life.
Immediately.
Students started returning to class.
The moment was broken.
Conversation ended.
Opportunity gone.
I had never been happier to hear a school bell.
...
Unfortunately, my relief didn't last long.
Because throughout the remaining classes, one question kept bothering me.
"Sort of."
What did that even mean?
Did somebody ask him out?
Or not?
And why had he smiled like that?
By evening prep, I still hadn't figured it out.
Neither had my sanity recovered.
...
Later that night, after dinner, I returned to the hostel exhausted.
The room was its usual chaotic self.
Girls discussing teachers.
Girls washing socks.
Girls borrowing cream.
Girls accusing one another of stealing buckets.
Normal boarding school activities.
I climbed onto my bunk and opened my novel.
Determined to think about anything except Samuel.
Unfortunately, life had other plans.
Because Gift suddenly appeared below me.
"Floral."
I looked down.
"What happened?"
Gift hesitated.
Then sighed.
The kind of sigh people release when they're carrying something heavy.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Then she asked quietly:
"Have you ever liked somebody and wished you didn't?"
My stomach tightened immediately.