CHAPTER NINETY-SIX: BETWEEN THE LINES
By Tuesday morning, everyone in SS1 seemed to have remembered that the continuous assessment tests were only a few days away.
The atmosphere around the classroom had changed.
The usual loud conversations before lessons were replaced by students hurriedly revising notes.
Even Daniel, who normally found a reason to joke every five minutes, sat quietly with his Mathematics textbook open.
I walked into the classroom carrying my Biology notebook.
"Good morning," I greeted.
"Morning," Gift replied from the far end of the classroom.
Daniel looked up briefly.
"Morning."
Then, to my greatest surprise, he returned to reading.
I frowned.
"What happened to you?"
He sighed dramatically without lifting his head.
"If I fail this test, my mother will remind me every day until Christmas."
I laughed.
"So you've finally decided to read?"
"I've always read."
Samuel, who had just arrived, dropped his bag on our desk.
"You've always planned to read."
The entire row laughed.
Daniel pointed at him.
"You're supposed to support me."
"I support your success."
"You don't sound like it."
"I don't support excuses."
Daniel shook his head.
"I've lost all my friends."
"You'll survive," Gift replied.
"I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
I laughed again.
The tension that had surrounded us for weeks seemed lighter.
Perhaps everyone was simply too busy thinking about the coming tests.
...
The first two lessons passed without incident.
By the third period, our Mathematics teacher entered carrying a pile of marked assignments.
Immediately, the classroom became silent.
Whenever he carried scripts, somebody was bound to cry.
He called names one after another.
Students walked to the front, collected their work and returned to their seats.
Some smiled.
Others frowned.
Some immediately began comparing scores.
Eventually—
"Samuel."
He stood, collected his assignment and returned.
The teacher continued.
"Floral."
I walked to the front, collected mine and quietly returned to my seat.
Before I could look at the score, Samuel leaned slightly towards me.
"How much?"
I covered the paper.
"You first."
He smiled.
"Eighty-six."
I looked at him.
"Show-off."
"I answered your question."
I finally looked at mine.
"Eighty-four."
Samuel smiled.
"I knew you'd do well."
I couldn't help smiling back.
"You scored higher."
"By two marks."
"Two marks is still higher."
"It doesn't matter."
I looked at him curiously.
"It matters to me."
He shook his head.
"No."
Then he looked directly at me.
"It doesn't."
Something about the way he said those words made me pause.
There wasn't any competition in his voice.
No pride.
No attempt to prove himself.
He genuinely sounded happier that we had both done well than that he had scored slightly higher.
It was such a small thing.
Yet somehow...
It stayed with me.
...
Break period arrived.
Students rushed out as usual.
Daniel stood up immediately.
"I'm buying meat pie."
Gift looked at him.
"You've been reading all morning."
"I deserve a reward."
"You deserve more reading."
He sighed.
"You're all against me."
"No," Samuel replied.
"We're against your excuses."
Daniel laughed before leaving the classroom.
Gift followed shortly after to buy sachet water.
Within moments...
Only Samuel and I remained.
The classroom felt unusually peaceful.
Outside, students' voices echoed across the compound.
Inside, only the ceiling fan disturbed the silence.
Samuel rested his pen on the desk.
"Can I ask another question?"
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're becoming too comfortable."
"I'll take that as permission."
"You shouldn't."
He laughed softly.
Then his expression became thoughtful.
"Do you remember JSS3?"
My heart skipped.
Immediately.
How could I forget?
That afternoon.
That unfinished conversation.
The words he never completed.
"I remember."
He looked down at his notebook.
"I've been thinking about it recently."
"So have I."
The words escaped before I realised what I had said.
He looked at me.
"You have?"
I nodded slowly.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
The memory hung quietly between us.
Neither of us mentioning exactly what had happened.
Neither pretending to have forgotten.
Samuel smiled faintly.
"I thought you forgot."
"I tried."
"But?"
"I couldn't."
His smile disappeared.
Not because he was unhappy.
Because he was thinking.
Carefully.
Almost cautiously.
"I wanted to say something that day."
"I know."
"But..."
"The bell rang," I finished for him.
He nodded.
"And after that..."
He sighed.
"Everything changed."
I understood exactly what he meant.
Junior secondary school ended.
Senior secondary school began.
New classrooms.
New responsibilities.
New friendships.
And somehow...
The conversation had been buried beneath all of it.
Until now.
The silence between us felt heavier than usual.
Not uncomfortable.
Just... meaningful.
Then footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Daniel returned, holding two meat pies.
Behind him was Gift, carrying two sachets of water.
The moment was gone.
Completely.
Daniel looked at us.
"You people are too quiet."
Samuel smiled.
"We were talking."
"About what?"
"School."
Daniel looked unconvinced.
"Hmm."
Gift quietly returned to her seat.
She glanced briefly in our direction before opening her notebook.
She didn't interrupt.
She didn't ask questions.
But Floral noticed the brief look.
And somehow...
She wondered if Gift had realised that whatever Samuel and she had been discussing...
It wasn't ordinary.
...
That evening, supervised prep was unusually productive.
The four of us spent almost an hour discussing the Civic Education assignment.
Daniel finally stopped joking long enough to contribute sensible ideas.
Gift organised everyone's points neatly.
Samuel corrected a few mistakes.
I copied the final draft into my notebook.
As they packed their books afterwards, Daniel stretched.
"My brain is officially tired."
"It finally worked," Gift replied.
He laughed.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
Samuel picked up his bag and turned to me.
"I'll bring the remaining notes tomorrow."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
He smiled.
"But I want to."
Before I could respond, he had already walked towards the door.
I watched him leave.
Not intentionally.
It just... happened.
"You know he's talking to you more these days."
I turned.
Daniel was looking at me.
His voice wasn't teasing.
For once...
It was completely serious.
I looked away.
"We're seat partners."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"That's not the only reason anymore."
He picked up his bag before I could answer.
As he walked away, I remained seated.
His words echoed inside my head.
"That's not the only reason anymore."
For the first time...
I wasn't sure I could disagree with him.