CHAPTER SEVEN:Caught
1166 Words
The footsteps got closer. The torchlight swept across the ground, across the wall, across the grass… and then straight into our faces.
“YOU TWO! STAND THERE!”
My heart dropped to my knees.
For a moment, my body refused to move. My legs felt like soft noodles and my throat tightened so much I couldn’t even swallow. The night air suddenly felt hotter, thicker, like it didn’t want to let me breathe. I could hear my pulse in my ears, loud and painful, and all I could think was — we’re finished.
A staff member — Mrs. Olu, the strictest evening supervisor — stormed toward us like she’d been waiting her whole life to catch somebody doing nonsense behind the computer labs.
Her wrapper was tied so tight around her waist it looked like it was holding in all the anger she’d built up since morning. Even the jingling of her staff ID sounded angry. I’d seen her shout before, but the way she marched toward us now felt personal, like she had been hunting shadows and finally caught real people.
“Tomilore Adekoya,” she barked. “SS2 prefect-in-training, abi? And you—” She glared at me like I was a cockroach. “New girl. Halima. What exactly are you doing sneaking behind the lab at night?!”
Tomi tried to talk. “Ma, please, we were just—”
“Quiet!” Mrs. Olu snapped. “Do you know the time? Prep has ended. The hostel is in movement. And you are hiding behind buildings like criminals?!”
I wanted the ground to swallow me.
Every eye that saw us on the walk back would definitely spread the gist before bedtime. I could almost hear the whispers already: The new girl? Already caught? My cheeks burned with humiliation. This wasn’t how I wanted anyone in this school to know my name.
“Walk.” She pointed sharply toward the staff block. “Principal’s office. Now.”
Tomi shot me a quick look
Her eyes held this strange mix of apology and warning. It wasn’t the look of someone who got caught doing something silly. It was the look of someone who expected this moment — as if getting dragged to the principal was part of some map she’d already followed in her head a hundred times.
— not angry, not scared… just resigned. Like she already knew this would happen someday.
We followed silently, our slippers scraping the sand.
The principal’s office smelled like polish and old paper and warnings no one wanted to hear.
The walls were covered with certificates and old photos of graduating classes, but none of them made the room feel warm. The fluorescent light above buzzed faintly, flickering at the corners like it was tired. My fingers twisted together in front of me, and the floor suddenly became the most interesting thing to stare at.
The principal was sitting behind her wide wooden desk, glasses low on her nose. The moment she saw us, her jaw tightened.
“Tomi,” she said slowly. “Again?”
Tomi bowed her head. “Ma, it’s not what you think—”
“And you.” The principal’s gaze switched to me, sharp and disappointed. “Halima. First week in this school and you’ve already found yourself in trouble?”
I swallowed hard.
“Ma, I’m really sor—”
“No excuses,” she said firmly. “I expected better.”
“Yes, ma,” we both murmured.
Mrs. Olu added, “And they should scrub the dining hall verandah tomorrow at break. It will teach them sense.”
“Approved,” the principal said.
My chest tightened. Scrubbing the verandah? In my first week? Wonderful.
But then something strange happened.
The principal dismissed Mrs. Olu and Tomi first.
“Tomi, wait outside.”
Tomi glanced at me, confused, but obeyed.
The moment the door closed, the principal relaxed her shoulders and looked at me differently.
Her entire face shifted. The anger melted into something almost fragile. The principal who had just scolded us was gone, replaced by a woman who looked like she carried too many secrets. Her fingers tapped lightly on the desk as if she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.
Softer.
Almost scared.
“Halima,” she said quietly. “Listen to me.”
I nodded slowly.
“You must stay away from Tomi.”
The room suddenly felt colder. The ceiling fan kept spinning but the air it pushed down felt thin, like it refused to settle on my skin. My mind raced. Why would she say that? Why would a whole principal be warning a JSS1 girl about an SS2 student like it was a matter of life and death?
I blinked. “Ma?”
“Stay away from her,” she repeated, voice low. “She is not a good influence. Neither is that roommate of yours, Rita. Both of them are trouble.”
The words hit my stomach wrong. “Rita too?”
“Yes.” Her eyes sharpened. “You are very new here. And new students… sometimes imagine things. Or listen to people who want attention.”
I frowned. “Ma, I’m not imagining—”
She cut me off gently but firmly.
“Halima. Nothing strange is happening in this school.”
My throat tightened.
“Do you understand me?”
I nodded because it was easier than arguing, but the nod felt heavy and false. Nothing about what she said made sense. Nothing about her eyes matched her voice. She looked terrified — not of Tomi…
…but of what Tomi knew.
she asked.
I nodded, even though every cell in my body whispered that she was lying.
“Good.” She stood up and came around her desk until she was right in front of me. She placed one hand on my shoulder.
“And Halima…”
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“Do not trust anyone. Especially not Tomi.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“Go,” she said, stepping back. “Straight to your hostel.”
I walked out of the office, my whole body feeling like it wasn’t mine.
Outside, Tomi stood stiffly by the wall, her notebook clutched to her chest. She opened her mouth to ask what happened — but then she saw my expression.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What did she tell you?” Tomi whispered.
I opened my mouth but the words got stuck, tangled somewhere between fear and confusion. The hallway lights buzzed faintly above us, and for a moment the whole school felt like it was listening. Tomi’s grip tightened on her notebook, knuckles pale. She looked like someone ready to run or fight — but not from me. From whatever truth the principal was trying to bury.
I didn’t know what to say.
Because everything the principal told me…
…made me trust Tomi more.
.
And fear her at the same time.
- Writer
