CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO: DOES DANIEL EVEN LIKE ME?
The walk back to the girls' hostel felt unusually long. The sky was dimming, the wind blowing dust across the compound, and the last line of students trooped into the hostels still discussing class gossip. Gift walked beside me silently—not too close, not too far—just like every other day. We weren't friends, but because we slept in the same corner and shared the same routine, we always ended up walking together without saying much.
When we reached the junior girls' hostel, the familiar chaos greeted us at the door. Girls were squeezing past each other with buckets, wrappers tied carelessly, some shouting, "Shift! I wan pass abeg!" (move! I want to pass please) while others argued over missing soap or slippers.
Fifteen bunks lined the room, each holding two girls—up and down. Thirty girls breathing, moving, talking, and struggling in one space. The heat of thirty bodies mixed with the smell of powder, wet uniforms, body spray, and evening sweat hung heavily in the air.
I climbed carefully onto my upper bunk while Gift settled on her lower bed, rummaging through the small bag she kept under her pillow. We didn't speak. We never spoke unless necessary.
But tonight, the silence felt heavier—almost uncomfortable.
Maybe because Samuel had spoken to me twice today.
Maybe because Daniel's words were still ringing in my head.
Maybe because Gift had been watching everything quietly.
I pulled my wrapper around myself and came down from the bunk to fetch my bucket. Gift was already standing, wrapping her towel around her chest. Her eyes met mine briefly—cold, unreadable, calm.
"Are you going to the locker room now?" she asked, her tone neutral, not warm, not rude.
"Yes," I replied.
We walked together through the corridor toward the locker room. The place was noisy as usual—metal lockers slamming shut, padlocks jingling, girls shifting toothpaste, books, provisions, and water bottles into neater positions.
I bent down to open mine.
Gift opened hers beside me.
We still didn't speak.
But I could feel her watching me.
Not in a hateful way.
Just… observant.
Almost as if she was trying to understand something she couldn't ask directly.
When we returned to the queue for bathing, she stood behind me, arms folded, her face expressionless.
Then finally, in a quiet tone, she said, "You and Samuel were talking… a lot today."
Her voice had no smile. No teasing. Just plain curiosity.
Or maybe controlled jealousy.
My heart jumped.
I tried to keep my face blank. "We were not talking a lot. He just… spoke to me."
Gift hummed faintly. Not agreement. Not disagreement. Just a sound.
Then she said, "He doesn't talk to many people like that."
I looked at her quickly.
"What are you trying to say?"
She shrugged."Nothing. I just observed."
But her eyes said more.
Gift wasn't stupid.
She liked Samuel too.
Everybody knew—except Samuel. She talked to him often, laughed with him, followed him around class, and he responded because Gift was bold and outspoken. She didn't hide her interest.
But she didn't tell me that.
And I didn't tell her anything either.
We were two girls liking the same boy, living in the same hostel corner, pretending we didn't notice the other's feelings.
When it was our turn to bathe, the water was cold and sharp, the kind that cleared thoughts but also made your heart beat faster under the shock.
I stayed longer under the stream than usual.
When we returned to the room, some girls were already lying on their beds, adjusting nets, whispering last-minute stories before lights-out. The senior girl on duty clapped her hands sharply.
"Everybody lie down! Two minutes!"
The room became a frenzy of wrappers, nets, and hurried movements.
I climbed onto my bunk again, the thin mattress squeaking beneath me. The hum of the generator outside vibrated faintly through the wall.
Gift pulled her mosquito net down, face calm but unreadable.
Then, with her voice barely above a whisper, she said, "If you and Samuel are talking now… that's good."
I froze.
Her tone wasn't friendly.
She talked as if I don't know Samuel since junior school, so weird!
But it wasn't hostile either.
It was something in-between.
Something that meant: I see you, and I won't pretend I don't.
I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say.
I lay back on my pillow, staring at the ceiling, the faint glow of the compound light slipping in through the window, casting long shadows on the walls.
Samuel's voice echoed in my mind again.
"I bought it for you… because I felt like giving you."
My chest warmed slowly, painfully.
Gift's calm voice replayed too.
"He doesn't talk to many people like that."
I closed my eyes.
In a room of thirty girls, with the smell of powder and sweat and the soft buzz of sleeping bodies…
I felt something tightening in my chest.
Something that felt dangerously close to the truth:
I wasn't the only girl who liked Samuel.
It doesn't change the fact that I remembered vividly what almost occurred between Samuel and me in junior school. Samuel almost confessing his feelings to me and me feeling that, he might not actually ask me out in senior school because of the rumor between Gift and him.
Does he even like Gift or me?
I will try to ignore the fact he gets me something because obviously, Daniel does the same thing and that brings me to the conclusion if Daniel even likes me.