chapter six

Adaora pov

When I got to school, I chatted with my girls, laughing and gossiping about the latest gist. But as I spoke, my eyes kept drifting around, searching for Ebuka.

He wasn't here yet. Strange.

I tried to shake it off, but as the bell rang for assembly, I couldn't help but scan the crowd again. Still no sign of him.

We sang, we prayed, and the usual morning rituals dragged on. But I kept glancing around, my chest feeling oddly heavy. Why wasn't he here?

The day felt unbearably slow without him. Every class seemed to drag, every subject duller than usual. I didn't even realize how much I'd gotten used to having him around—his jokes, his random challenges, the way he always made things fun.

By the time school ended, I walked out feeling disappointed. I had really wanted to see my new friend.

On the way home, my girls and I chattered as usual, teasing each other about everything and nothing. Ifeoma nudged me with a grin.

"Our lover boy didn't come today."

I rolled my eyes. "Abeg, he's not my lover."

Stella giggled. "But you missed him, sha."

I huffed, but they weren't wrong.

Ifeoma shrugged. "He probably had things to do anyway."

I nodded, but a small voice in my head wondered:

Would he be here tomorrow?

When I got home, the day flew by.

In the evening, my mum came home beaming she had gotten a promotion! We were all so happy, cheering and celebrating. My dad even brought out drinks, and we laughed, played, and enjoyed the moment as a family.

That night, I went to bed feeling warm inside, but my thoughts kept drifting to school. To Ebuka. I hoped he'd be there tomorrow.

---

The next morning, I stood in the assembly grounds, my eyes scanning the crowd. But—no Ebuka.

My chest felt heavy. Sad. Worried.

I told myself he'd probably come later. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he had something to do.

Then, during our second period, the classroom door opened and Ebuka walked in.

I nearly sighed in relief. But instead of coming to sit beside me like usual, he went to another seat.

I frowned. Huh? I glanced beside me my seat was empty. No one had taken his place. So why wouldn't he sit here?

Before I could think too much, the door swung open again, and someone hurried inside, walking straight to the teacher. They whispered something quickly before handing her a key.

The teacher nodded and turned to Ebuka. "Your mother dropped this off for you."

Ebuka stiffened.

He quickly grabbed the key, shoved it into his bag, and looked around his face was tight. Pale. Scared.

I frowned. What was wrong?

After class, he rushed out immediately, not even waiting for me.

I picked up my books and followed, but by the time I reached the music class, Ebuka had already taken a seat far from me.

Like he was avoiding me.

At break time, I made up my mind.

I needed to talk to Ebuka.

He had been acting strange all day avoiding me, sitting far away, and looking like he had seen a ghost when he got that key. Something was wrong.

I kept an eye on him, waiting for the right moment. Finally, I saw him heading to the bathroom alone.

I took a deep breath and followed.

Instead of going inside, I stood in a corner, waiting for him to come out. My heart pounded. I wasn't sure why I felt nervous—maybe it was because I had never seen Ebuka like this before.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open.

Ebuka stepped out, his head lowered, his steps hurried like he wanted to disappear.

Before he could get too far, I reached out and tapped his shoulder.

What happened next shocked me.

He screamed.

Loud. Sharp. Terrified.

Like he thought I was someone else. Someone worse. Someone... dangerous.

I froze. "Ebuka—"

He stumbled back, eyes wide with panic. "No! Stay away from me!"

I raised my hands. "Hey, it's just me. Why are you acting like this?"

But he kept backing away. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he was struggling to breathe.

"I won't come close," I said softly. "Just tell me what's wrong—"

"Get away!" His voice cracked. His hands were shaking.

My stomach twisted. "Ebuka, who is going to hurt you? What are you talking about?"

He shook his head violently. "I don't want to die."

I took a step forward. "Wait—what?"

His whole body flinched like I had struck him.

"Get away! Stay away from me!" His eyes were wet now, filled with pure terror.

My throat tightened. "Ebuka, please. I just want to help—"

"You're a witch!" he blurted out.

The words hit me like a slap.

My breath caught. "What?"

His whole body trembled. "They told me to stay away from you. Go back!"

I felt like the ground had vanished beneath me.

"Who told you that?" My voice barely came out.

Ebuka looked around frantically, as if someone was watching us. Then, with one last fearful look at me, he turned and ran.

It did not make sense.

Why would Ebuka call me a witch? Why did he look at me like I was some kind of monster?

His words kept replaying in my head his fear, his panic. What did he mean?

I barely paid attention in class. Even when Ifeoma and Stella whispered and passed notes, I couldn't focus. I was hurt.

I thought we were friends.

After school, I walked to the car, angry and confused. The ride home was a blur. The moment we arrived, I went straight to my room and slammed the door shut.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

What did I do wrong?

I wasn't some evil thing. I wasn't dangerous. I was just... me. So why would Ebuka say that

It did not make sense.

Why would Ebuka call me a witch? Why did he look at me like I was some kind of monster?

His words kept replaying in my head his fear, his panic. What did he mean?

I thought we were friends

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

What did I do wrong?

I wasn't some evil thing. I wasn't dangerous. I was just... me. So why would Ebuka say that?

A deep ache settled in my chest. I tried to push it away, but it stayed.

Evening came, and I barely spoke. I sat at the dining table, pushing my food around my plate. My dad must have noticed because he gave me a long look before speaking.

"Hey," he said, nudging my shoulder. "Why are you sad?"

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing, sir."

"Chuka, come here," he called.

Chuka came in, looking confused. "What happened?"

"What did you do to my princess?" my dad asked.

Chuka raised his hands. "Papa, nothing oo! I didn't touch her. She's been like this since she got home."

My dad studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Come," he said, holding out his hand. "Walk with Daddy."

I hesitated before taking his hand.

"Where are we going?"

"To get ice cream."

From the living room, Chuka yelled.

"WHAT? She gets angry and gets ice cream? The last time I got angry, all of you ignored me!"

My dad burst out laughing. "Hahaha! You see your life? Maybe if you had a cute face like my princess, I would pity you."

Chuka folded his arms. "Unfair!"

I laughed. A real, deep laugh that shook my shoulders. It felt good.

My dad grinned. "Come, joor. Let's go before your big-headed brother starts crying."

He ended up buying a big bowl of ice cream, and as we headed home, he added, "Let's get some for the big head at home before jealousy wounds him."

I laughed again.

By the time we got back, I felt better. Not completely, but enough to push away the sadness. At least for now.