Chapter 5 : Grades

The announcement came on a Monday morning.

Printed sheets stapled roughly to the rusted notice board outside the administrative office. The resit results were out.

Word spread through campus like wildfire. Students clustered around the board, murmuring, pointing, gasping. Some laughed in relief. Others walked away with slumped shoulders.

Amara stood several feet away, frozen in place.

Her palms were sweaty. Her stomach churned. She felt like she was back in the exam hall again—only worse.

"I can't," she whispered to herself. "I can't

But she had to.

She slowly approached the crowd. Each step felt like dragging bricks. She pushed through a few students, eyes searching. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Column after column of numbers. Matric numbers. Grades.

Find it.

Her eyes darted to the Medical-Surgical Nursing section. Her number… it had to be there somewhere.

Then she saw it.

SN/2358/2023 – PASS

A breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her lungs. Her knees went weak.

She passed.

A wave of dizzying relief washed over her. She didn't fail. She made it.

She was still standing.

Then, like a bad twist in a movie, she appeared.

"Wow," a voice drawled behind her. "You actually passed?"

Amara turned, already knowing who it was.

Jasmine.

A senior student. Known for her mean tongue and designer handbags, Jasmine was always ready to cut someone down to size—and her favorite target was anyone struggling to stay afloat.

"I'm honestly shocked," Jasmine continued, folding her arms. "I mean, with the way you dress, I assumed you couldn't even afford textbooks, let alone pass Med-Surg."

A few girls nearby laughed. Amara's hands clenched into fists.

Jasmine leaned in, voice low and venomous. "Tell me, did your poor mama sell another basket of tomatoes to pay your fees this time?"

That stung.

Amara felt the shame rise in her chest like heat. Her eyes burned—not from the insult, but from how easy it was for people like Jasmine to cut deep with a smile.

"Back off, Jasmine."

Kelsey's voice cut through the air like a blade.

She had arrived just in time, her expression fierce.

Jasmine scoffed, turning to her. "Oh, look. It's her little sidekick."

"I'd rather be a sidekick than a spoiled brat with zero empathy," Kelsey snapped.

A beat of silence.

Then Jasmine rolled her eyes, flipped her braids, and strutted off. "Whatever. You two can keep being poor together."

Amara felt the lump in her throat start to break.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.

Kelsey looked at her. "Yes, I did."

They stood side by side for a moment, then Amara asked, "Did you check yours?"

Kelsey pulled a crumpled paper from her pocket.

"Passed. Both."

Amara smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "We did it."

"We did."

They turned back to the board, watching as more students swarmed in, still hunting for their own fate in those tiny black letters.

But for now—for just a moment—they let themselves breathe.

They had survived the storm.

And they were still standing.