The Real Me

Chapter 17. Drama Unfolds

Anastasia's Pov

The church service, a sacred occasion meant for reflection and reverence, felt like a hollow shell today.

The absence of the Reverend and senior staff loomed heavy in the air, leaving a void that was painfully evident.

As I sat among my peers, I sensed the usual attentiveness dissipating into a restless sea of whispers.

Excited chatter about the upcoming sports tournament rippled through the congregation, distracting from the service's intended focus.

Some students were glued to their phones, fingers dancing across screens, absorbed in the latest gossip, while others fought to keep their eyes open, the weight of late-night romance sessions pulling them under.

Even the worship team faltered today; a sour note from one of the singers sliced through what little spirit remained in the hall, leaving a dissonance that hung in the air like a bad taste.

The congregation's responses were tepid at best, and the service felt more like a routine obligation than a genuine communion.

I couldn’t bear it any longer. As soon as the service concluded, I made a beeline for the dormitory, eager to escape the lackluster atmosphere.

Oddly enough, Gilbert hadn’t shown up today either, and a flicker of worry crept into my mind.

“Today’s church sucked,” I overheard a junior lamenting to her friends as I opened my room door.

So, I wasn’t alone in my assessment. I imagined the seniors must have felt the same but chose to remain silent.

They were facing their WASSCE soon, and I felt a pang of sympathy for them; in their position, I would pray more than ten times a day, knowing the weight of my background.

I dropped onto my bed, still dressed in my church attire.

The fabric felt restrictive, a reminder of the service I wanted to forget.

The sounds of students rushing around, preparing for breakfast, filled the dormitory, but the thought of food turned my stomach.

With our house mistress absent, I felt no obligation to join them.

Searching for my phone, I plugged in my earbuds, relishing the familiar sensation as I slipped them into place.

I scrolled through my playlist, hoping to drown out the noise of the world around me with music that resonated in a way today’s service hadn’t.

I must have dozed off listening to my music because the next thing I heard was a commotion outside the dorm—students rushing out, their voices a chaotic mix of excitement and confusion.

The noise jolted me awake, and I barely registered my roommates as they slammed the door behind them.

I glanced over at Beatrice's bed, but it was empty.

Curiosity tugged at me, and as a shout echoed through the hall, I jumped up, throwing on my shoes.

I couldn't miss this—gossip was brewing right outside our dormitory, and I was determined to be part of it.

Stepping out into the cool air, I was greeted by a crowd forming in front of our dorm.

Two girls from my class, Florence and Sarah, were struggling against a group of boys who had them pinned, dragging them across the campus.

The scene unfolded like a chaotic play, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of exhilaration and concern.

“Why are they fighting?” I heard someone shout behind me, mirroring my own confusion.

I turned to see a girl I recognized but didn’t know well, her eyes wide with intrigue.

“Hmm, they’re not serious. They’re fighting over a guy,” another voice chimed in—Miss Juanita, a senior who was known for her dramatic flair.

“Which guy?” someone asked, their curiosity piqued right alongside mine.

I stood at the edge of the crowd, my gaze darting between the girls and the boys, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“They're fighting over Promise, the guy you all have a crush on,” Miss Juanita declared, rolling her eyes as she turned to leave, clearly bored now that the spectacle had lost its thrill.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her remark; it seemed she was the most invested in Promise out of all of us.

But I still didn’t understand the reason for the fight. Promise was in our class, and as far as I knew, he was dating Sarah, while Florence was his best friend.

Why would they clash over him? The tangled web of teenage drama was already starting to weave itself tighter, and I couldn’t wait to hear all the details.

I turned to head back inside when a familiar voice called out,

"Lady Anas!" I paused, glancing back to see Vera, a junior from the dorm, striding toward me.

"Yes?" I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

"The senior over there is looking for you," she said, pointing toward the road.

My gaze followed her finger to where Gilbert stood, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed in our direction.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

He was looking for me, which meant I hadn’t been completely forgotten after yesterday. A twinge of warmth spread through me.

I nodded at Vera, then made my way to him, suddenly self-conscious in my church attire.

"Hey," I greeted, approaching him but keeping a slight distance, taking in the familiar sight of him.

He wore a white sweater paired with black shorts, and I found myself wondering how many unconventional outfits he had packed for school.

He flashed me a smile—a soft, genuine expression that lit up his face—and a wave of relief washed over me.

He was still the same Gilbert, the one who radiated joy.

"Mind taking a walk with me?" he asked, stepping closer to me, his hands finally free from his pockets.

A smile broke across my face, happiness bubbling up at the thought of spending time with him.

I nodded eagerly, almost too quickly, as if my hesitation might cause him to change his mind.

Why was I feeling so giddy about seeing him? We had only become friends last week, yet it felt like I had known him forever.

“Let’s go,” he said, extending his right hand toward me.

I stared at his hand, then up at him, my heart racing. I hesitated, caught in a wave of uncertainty.

I wasn’t one for hand-holding; it felt too intimate, too personal.

And my hands—rough and calloused—were nothing like the smooth ones I imagined he was used to. A wave of insecurity washed over me.

I forced a grin, trying to lighten the moment.

“Didn’t you see that fight not long ago? You want to hold my hand so your girlfriend can come and beat me?” I chuckled at my own ridiculousness, hoping to defuse the tension.

For a moment, Gilbert looked puzzled, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Then, recognition dawned on his face, and he chuckled, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

He slipped his hands back into his pockets, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Silly girl,” he said, the warmth in his voice making my heart skip.

He turned to walk away, and without a second thought, I fell into step beside him, the giddiness bubbling up again.