CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1085 Words
Grace and Maddy had been struggling with engagement lately. Their videos weren’t doing as well anymore. The likes trickled in slowly, comments were scarce, and their views just weren’t what they used to be. It was frustrating. They had put so much effort into their recent content, yet it felt like no one was watching. So when the new dance challenge started trending, they knew they had to hop on it. It was a fast-paced, expressive choreography that demanded energy and charisma—something they both had in abundance.
They practiced late into the evening in the hostel’s common area, rehearsing the moves over and over until they were perfectly in sync. Grace wore her favorite black cargo pants and a cropped tee, while Maddy had her hair in space buns and donned a bright yellow top that popped against her dark skin. They laughed through mistakes, teased each other through retakes, and finally, when they got the perfect shot, they posted the video with a simple caption: “Tried this challenge and we ATE.”
Within hours, the numbers started climbing. Views. Likes. Comments. It was doing better than any of their recent posts.
But the celebration didn’t last.
They didn’t tag the creator of the challenge.
At first, they didn’t even realize it. But the backlash came hard. Another video started making the rounds—a girl, the original creator of the dance, sitting in her room with a sarcastic smile as she talked into her phone camera.
“Funny how some people can blow up overnight using your moves, and not even have the courtesy to tag you. Don’t worry though, I see you,” she said. Her tone wasn’t directly aggressive, but it dripped with spite. “But then again, not everyone remembers their roots when a little fame enters the chat.”
People from her video swarmed Grace and Maddy’s comment section.
“Thieves.”
“Y’all just got here and already stealing ideas?”
“This is why we gatekeep.”
“You’re not even that good.”
“Why didn’t you tag the original creator though?”
The comments piled up faster than they could process. Grace sat on her bed, her phone in her hand, eyes wide, lips pressed together. Maddy was pacing.
“I swear we didn’t mean to,” Maddy said. “We weren’t even thinking. It was trending, and we just…”
“I know,” Grace whispered.
They sat in silence. The room felt smaller with every passing minute.
Then Grace’s phone buzzed. It was a call from Mr. Ayo.
“Pick it,” Maddy said.
Grace answered.
“Hello?”
Mr. Ayo didn’t waste time. “I saw the video. And the other one. You girls are trending—but not for the right reasons. This kind of drama can destroy your reputation if you don’t handle it well.”
“We didn’t mean to—”
“I know. But intentions don’t matter online. Perception does. You need to address it. Own the mistake. Even if it was unintentional. You’re representing something now—your school, your brand, yourselves. Post a video. Say your piece. Be honest. And Grace, Maddy… keep it humble.”
They thanked him and ended the call.
So they recorded a new video. Grace wore a hoodie this time, her hair in a bun, face bare. Maddy sat beside her.
“We just want to apologize,” Grace said. “We joined the challenge without giving proper credit to the original creator, and that was wrong. It wasn’t intentional, but we know that doesn’t make it okay. We’re sorry. We’ve tagged her now and given her the credit she deserves.”
They posted it.
The responses were… mixed.
“Damage control ‘cause y’all got caught.”
“Y’all only sorry now.”
But there were also comments like:
“They handled that better than I expected.”
“Okay, I believe them. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“You’re growing. Don’t let this stop you.”
Still, the joy was gone. They didn’t feel proud. They felt small. The silence after posting was heavier than the silence before.
They lay on the same bed, scrolling through the comments, not saying much.
“I guess this is part of it,” Maddy said eventually.
“I hate that it is,” Grace replied.
“Do you want to go out?”
Grace shook her head. “I just need a minute.”
Later that evening, Grace stepped outside alone. The air was cooler, the sounds of campus life distant but present. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped Bami’s name.
“Hey,” she said when he picked up. “You around?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I just… can I come over?”
There was a pause, then his voice softened. “Of course. I’ll send you a bike number.”
Ten minutes later, she was on her way to his off-campus lodge. The ride was quiet, and Grace’s mind replayed the events of the day over and over like a broken record.
Bami’s place was warm—dim lighting, a fan spinning lazily overhead. He welcomed her with a small smile and a nudge.
“Take off your shoes. You’re home.”
They sat for a bit without talking. Then he stood. “Want noodles?”
She nodded.
In the kitchen, they cooked the noodles together, chopping vegetables, cracking jokes, the silence slowly replaced by soft laughter. He played music from his speaker, an old Burna Boy song that made her sway.
“Thanks for letting me come,” she said.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do. Today was rough.”
“I saw. People are… something else. But you handled it like a champ.”
Grace looked at him. “I don’t feel like one.”
“You don’t have to feel like a champ. Just believe. That’s okay too.”
After dinner, they lay on his bed, side by side, not touching but close. Bami spoke softly.
“You’ve grown, Grace. A lot. And not just online.”
She turned to him. “So have you.”
He smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just lucky you still call.”
Her chest tightened. Not in a bad way.
“I’ll always call,” she whispered.
The moment lingered.
They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to.
But something between them shifted. And neither of them would forget it.
- Writer
