EVASION

Jide leaned closer to Christine, the hushed whispers from the crowd making her initial statement inaudible. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm echoing the chaos within her mind. A proposal from Jide, in front of the entire school's upperclassmen, no less. He knelt before her, eyes filled with hope and adoration. She could see the future he envisioned, a future that didn't include her impending relocation to Kenya.

She couldn't simply say no. The rejection would be public, humiliating for him. She needed a delicate maneuver, a way to decline without causing unnecessary pain. Her gaze flickered, searching the room for an escape route, a distraction, anything. A sudden cough, a dropped glass, a fake emergency call—any of these could buy her a moment to compose herself.

Her fingers toyed nervously with the bracelet on her wrist, its weight a heavy reminder of the expectation hanging in the air. She could feel the eyes of her peers boring into her, their judgment a tangible pressure. She knew she had to act quickly, but she also knew she had to be careful. One wrong move, and the situation could spiral out of control.

With a forced smile, she leaned in, her voice soft and hesitant. "This is so sudden," she murmured, her eyes darting around the room. "I need time to think."

She hoped this would be enough. A temporary reprieve, a chance to formulate a convincing excuse, a way to break the news to Jide without shattering his heart. But she knew Jide, and deep down, she knew this was just the beginning of a difficult conversation.

Jide's smile faltered, but he nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

As the crowd returned to their conversations, Christine slipped away, her chest tight with frustration and a growing sense of dread. Adeze caught up with her near the exit.

"What was that?" Christine demanded, her voice low but sharp.

"Relax," Adeze said, laughing. "It was just a bit of fun. You and Jide would make a great couple."

Christine shook her head, a wave of irritation washing over her. "You don't get it. My life is complicated enough without this."

Adeze's smile faded. "What's going on, Chris? You've been acting weird lately."

Christine hesitated. How could she explain the turmoil she was facing? Instead, she just said, "I'll tell you soon. I promise."

Christine was almost at the exit when Adeze grabbed her arm. "Hey, wait!" she said, pulling her to a quieter corner near the towering, flower-adorned arch at the back of the hall.

"What is it now, Adeze?" Christine asked, her tone clipped.

"Okay, first of all, you're welcome," Adeze said, folding her arms.

Christine blinked, incredulous. "For what?"

Adeze rolled her eyes. "For that moment back there! Jide's been planning this for weeks. He just needed a nudge—and I thought you'd appreciate it. I mean, come on, Chris, a guy like Jide asking you out in front of everyone? That’s the dream!"

Christine stared at her friend, the weight of the past two days boiling to the surface. "You thought that was what I needed right now? Public pressure to be someone’s girlfriend when my whole life is falling apart?"

Adeze blinked, taken aback. "Falling apart? What are you talking about?"

Christine sighed and rubbed her temples. "I haven't even told you, have I?" She paused, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. "My parents are shipping me off to Kenya. For my senior year. Can you imagine?"

Adeze's mouth fell open. "Kenya? Like... the country?"

"No, Adeze, the neighborhood down the street," Christine snapped, then immediately regretted it. She sighed. "Sorry. Yes, the country. They sent a fax two days ago. Just decided, out of nowhere, that it’s happening."

Adeze tilted her head, trying to process the news. "Wow. Okay, that's... intense. But, Chris, Kenya’s not the worst place. I mean, think of the adventures you could have—safaris, beaches, new people..."

"Seriously?" Christine's voice rose slightly. "That’s your take? 'Adventures'? I’m being uprooted from everything I know—school, friends, my future plans—and you’re talking about safaris?"

"Hey," Adeze said, raising her hands defensively. "I’m just trying to see the bright side."

Christine shook her head, her curls bouncing against her shoulders. "There is no bright side. This is a mess. My parents didn’t even ask how I felt. They just made the decision for me."

Adeze hesitated, then placed a hand on Christine’s arm. "Look, I get it. This sucks. But you’re Christine Momoh. You can handle anything. You’ve got that 'queen energy,' remember?"

Christine gave her a flat look. "Spare me the pep talk, Adeze. I need solutions, not slogans."

Adeze sighed, her earlier bravado dimming. "Okay, fair. But if you’re leaving, you need to let people know. You can’t just ghost us all."

Christine frowned. "Ghost you? I haven’t even figured out how to tell myself this is happening, let alone everyone else."

"Start with me," Adeze said, her voice softening. "I’m your best friend, Chris. Don’t shut me out."

For a moment, Christine's frustration melted, replaced by a pang of guilt. She nodded slowly. "I’ll try. But it’s all just... too much right now."

Adeze nodded back. "Okay. But one step at a time, yeah? And about Jide..."

Christine groaned. "Please don’t bring him up again."

"Fine, fine," Adeze said, raising her hands again in mock surrender. "But just so you know, he really does like you. Maybe give him a chance before you disappear to... wherever."

"Kenya," Christine muttered, her tone flat.

"Kenya," Adeze echoed, flashing a small smile. "Maybe you’ll come back with stories even I’ll be jealous of."

Christine didn’t reply, but as she turned to leave, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter. Not gone—just slightly easier to bear.

But as she walked away, Christine knew the promises she’d made—to herself, to her friends, to her future—were all hanging by a thread.

Later that night, as Christine lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind raced. She thought about Jide, about Adeze, and about the life she was leaving behind. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about the difficult conversation she had to have with Jide the next day. She knew she had to be honest with him, but she also knew it would hurt him.

Christine sighed as she sank into her bed, scrolling through her Snapchat feed. Her finger hesitated over Jide’s chat. The little streak icon next to his name reminded her of the countless times they’d exchanged casual jokes and updates. But tonight, her heart raced as she opened his latest message.

Jide:

Hey, Chris. You still up?

Christine:

Yeah, what’s up?

Jide:

So what did your answer mean?

Christine’s lips pressed together as she pondered how to respond. Her mind replayed the grand gesture from the Senior Send-Off—the velvet box, the applause, her own awkward retreat. Finally, she typed back.

Christine:

I don't know, I'm not sure ...

Jide’s reply came almost instantly.

Jide:

I know today was... a lot. But I was thinking, maybe we could talk. Over dinner. Just us

Christine hesitated. Dinner felt… significant.

Christine:

Dinner? Jide, I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

Jide:

I get it. But we didn’t really get a chance to talk earlier. I just want to make sure you’re okay. And honestly, I want to know where we stand.

Christine:

Where we stand? Jide, this isn’t easy for me. You kind of dropped a bombshell today.

Jide:

I know, and I’m sorry if it was overwhelming. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. That’s why I want to talk—to clear the air.

Christine:

Sigh. Jide, you have no idea how complicated my life is right now.

Jide:

Then let me help. At least let me listen. You don’t have to carry everything on your own, Chris.

Christine:

...Fine. Dinner. But just dinner. No surprises, no big gestures.

Jide:

No surprises. I promise. Just us. How’s 7 PM tomorrow?

Christine:

Alright. 7 PM.

Jide:

Perfect. I’ll pick you up.

As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was unraveling before her eyes. She clung to the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to make everything work out.