THE MORNING BELL
The next morning, the school courtyard was a sea of blue and white uniforms.
Massimo was already leaning against the flame tree, looking sharp in the cream-colored linen shirt from Clara's dad's boutique. He was busy adjusting his cuffs, looking every bit like the "sophisticated twin" the school knew him to be.
"Look at you!" Clara called out, jogging toward him with her bag bouncing against her hip.
She stopped in front of him, breathless, and gave him a playful shove. "My dad was right. That vintage cut makes you look like you're about to go to a board meeting instead of Math class."
Massimo laughed, rolling his eyes and giving her a light flick on the forehead. "I'm just doing your family a favor by modeling the stock, Clara.
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Whatever," she teased, straightening his collar with the practiced ease of a sister.
"But seriously, you look good. You'll definitely catch some eyes today."
Massimo's grin faltered for just a second, his gaze drifting toward the school's main entrance where a group of junior boys was walking in.
He cleared his throat, his eyes lingering on a small, quiet boy in the distance before he quickly looked back at Clara. "Yeah, well, as long as I don't catch a detention for 'fashion violations,' I'm happy."
Clara noticed the subtle tension but let it slide—Massimo's mysterious distractions were nothing new.
Before Clara could probe his sudden distraction, the atmosphere shifted.
Kamsi was marching toward them, her heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.
She wasn't her usual calm self; her face was pale, and her jaw was set tight as she clutched her phone.
"Kamsi?" Clara asked, her voice dipping with concern. "What's wrong? Did the market—"
Kamsi stopped abruptly and slowly turned her screen toward them. The red and green candles from last night were gone. In their place was a single, bold notification in bright green.
"I didn't just hit the target," Kamsi whispered, her voice trembling—not with fear, but with pure adrenaline. "I broke through it. That tech stock skyrocketed on a buyout rumor at 4:00 AM. We aren't just getting jollof rice, guys."
She looked up, a triumphant smirk finally breaking across her face. "This weekend, we're going to the city. Five-star everything. My treat."
Massimo let out a low whistle, impressed. "Our resident mogul actually did it.
He reached out and slung an arm around Kamsi's shoulder, then the other around Clara's, pulling them both into a side-hug.
Clara grinned, but a tiny pang of envy crept in. She'd never seen anyone manipulate numbers like Kamsi.
Massimo felt a surge of pride for Kamsi, but a small knot of worry twisted in his stomach. Her ambition was unmatched—and so was the pressure she put on herself.
As the morning bell rang, the trio walked toward the main building—the heart, the soul, and the architect—feeling like they owned the entire world, or at least a very profitable piece of it.
The weekend in the city was a blur of neon lights, high-end boutiques, and the kind of food that made Clara and Massimo feel like royalty.
Kamsi kept her word—five-star treatment from start to finish.
They spent hours in the city's largest mall, where Massimo picked out a few more sharp outfits from a designer shop that rivaled Clara's dad's boutique.
"Do I look like a business tycoon or a walking jollof advertisement?" Massimo joked, eyeing his reflection.
Clara snorted. "A bit of both, honestly."
They laughed, took endless photos, and for a moment, the weight of their final year at school felt miles away.
But as Sunday evening rolled around and they piled into the car to head back home, the atmosphere shifted.
The golden glow of the weekend was replaced by the cold realization of the calendar and a new week that promised more than just classes.
A faint buzz from Kamsi's phone made Massimo glance nervously at her.
Something told him the weekend's victories might only be the beginning.
Clara squeezed Massimo's hand lightly. "Whatever comes next, we face it together," she said.
Massimo nodded, a quiet determination settling over him. "Together."
Kamsi's smirk was quiet but deadly. She didn't just play the game—she built it. And she wasn't about to let anyone else control the board.