Break time had ended, but the sound of laughter and footsteps still lingered faintly in the hallway. Amara had already started walking back to class, her steps slow but sure, the sun from the open windows brushing against her braided hair. I followed behind, not too close, not too far — just enough to watch how she moved like she was always lost in her own world.
When we got to the door, she turned slightly, probably to check if Chinonso or someone else was coming, and our eyes met for a heartbeat.
Just one.
But it felt like that single moment held a language I couldn't yet translate.
"Ogini kwa?" Chinonso's voice broke the silence as he joined me from behind, carrying his half-eaten meat pie. "You dey look the girl like person wey wan write proposal."
I hissed, trying to sound uninterested. "Hapụ m aka, Nonso."
He laughed, bumping my shoulder lightly. "You go soon enter wahala. That girl no be the talking type o. Na those quiet ones dey burst person head pass."
I smiled, even though he was half-right. Amara wasn't the type that spoke much, but the few words she did say had a strange way of staying in my head longer than they should.
We entered the class, and the noise settled when Mrs. Josephine walked in. She was strict, but today, her mood seemed lighter.
"Alright everyone," she said, scanning the room. "Your essays on 'What Friendship Means to Me' — I hope you didn't just copy from each other."
A few nervous chuckles filled the air. I caught Amara sitting by the window, looking outside again, her pen spinning in her hand.
She wasn't pretending to listen; she just… wasn't there.
When Mrs. Josephine started calling names, I wasn't paying attention until I heard mine. "Onyedika, please come and read yours."
My heart skipped. "Now, ma?"
"Yes, now."
I stood up, feeling every pair of eyes in the class turn toward me. I could hear Chinonso whisper, "Make I hear if you no go shake small."
I shot him a look and began reading. My voice sounded steadier than I expected.
But halfway through, I noticed something — Amara had actually lifted her head. She was watching me. Not like everyone else did, not just curious — but quietly, thoughtfully.
When I finished, the class clapped. Mrs. Josephine nodded. "Nicely done. You always write from the heart, Onyedika."
I sat down, still catching my breath. Chinonso nudged me, grinning. "She dey look you o."
"Who?"
He tilted his head toward Amara, who quickly looked away, pretending to be flipping through her notebook.
"Gàwá," I muttered, trying to hide my smile.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Josephine gave a short talk about the upcoming Showcase Day, saying students who wanted to perform something should start preparing early. Chinonso immediately leaned closer.
"You no go perform your sweet talk poetry again?"
I shook my head. "I never write anything new."
"Write na! You fit even pair with Amara. She get that calm voice wey fit blend well."
I laughed quietly. "Pụọ ngaa."
But his words stayed with me. And when the bell finally rang and everyone began to pack up, I saw Amara still sitting there, brushing eraser crumbs from her desk.
For a moment, I thought of walking over — maybe just to say hi, or something less foolish.
But before I could move, another boy — tall, playful, one of the seniors — stopped by her desk. They talked briefly, and she smiled.
Her smile wasn't big, just enough to shift the air around her.
It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.
I felt something strange rise in my chest — something that wasn't just curiosity anymore. Maybe jealousy. Maybe confusion. I didn't even know her that well yet, but suddenly, I wanted to.
Chinonso called my name, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You dey go abi you wan sleep here?"
I looked at Amara one last time before walking out.
The sound of her laughter — faint and short — followed me to the hallway.
And that was when I realized… silence wasn't the only thing that could speak.
Sometimes, so could jealousy.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure I liked what I was starting to feel.