Chapter 10 – Whispers and Cracks

By Wednesday morning the rumour had grown legs and started running.

It wasn’t just quiet hallway talk anymore. Boys in the SS3 common room during break were repeating bits of it out loud:

“Did you see Miss A’s literature boys yesterday? They stayed back again. Door locked. Blinds down.”

One laughed low. “Extra revision? Yeah right. Chidi looked like he was about to cry when he came out.”

Another voice, quieter: “Khalid was smiling though. Like he owns the place.”

By second period the story had spread further. Someone swore they’d heard a moan through the wall last week. Someone else said they saw Tobi fixing his trousers awkwardly on Tuesday. By lunch the versions were multiplying:

• Miss A was sleeping with one of them.

• She was sleeping with all of them.

• It was just flirting, but the boys were fighting over her like dogs over meat.

No hard proof. No photos. No one who’d actually seen anything. But the air felt electric with it.

In Literature class at 1:15 p.m., you could cut the tension with a knife.

Ms. Adeyemi walked in wearing a deep green buba and wrapper elegant, traditional, the kind of outfit that made her look untouchable. She carried a stack of marked essays and started handing them back without a word.

When she reached Chidi’s desk she placed his paper face down.

A+ circled in red.

A single handwritten note underneath: Controlled passion. Excellent analysis. See me after class.

Chidi stared at the words like they burned his fingers.

Khalid, right in front, got his next. Same grade. Different note: Always first. Always precise. Proud of you.

Khalid didn’t smile. He just folded the paper neatly and slipped it into his bag. But his eyes flicked back to Chidi once, slow, smug.

Chidi’s pen cracked again. This time the ink didn’t spill; he just gripped it until the plastic splintered.

During the lesson she kept the touches light innocent-looking to anyone not paying close attention.

A quick brush of fingers when she handed Yusuf a book.

A second too long when she leaned over Tobi to point at a paragraph.

But when she passed Chidi’s desk to collect homework, she let her hip graze his shoulder barely a touch and whispered so low only he heard:

“Patience. Tonight you get your chance to prove you deserve more than watching.”

Chidi’s breath caught.

Khalid turned just enough to catch the moment. His jaw tightened.

The bell rang.

Most students left.

The four stayed.

She locked the door. Half closed blinds. Same routine.

But this time she didn’t sit on the desk. She stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, blouse still perfectly buttoned.

“Rumours are spreading,” she said quietly. “Nothing solid yet. But people are noticing how often you four stay behind. How you look at me. How you look at each other.”

Silence.

She went on. “If this gets out of hand if someone takes a photo through the window, or follows you to my flat, or starts asking the wrong questions we stop. Completely. No more sessions. No more touches. Just teacher and students again.”

Four heads snapped up.

“No” Chidi started.

She cut him off with a look.

“I’m not threatening. I’m stating fact. So from now on, you control yourselves in public. No staring. No smirking. No snapping pens like kids.”

Her gaze settled on Khalid and Chidi.

“And you two whatever this is between you, it ends here. I don’t belong to either of you. I decide who gets what. When. How much. If I catch either of you trying to sabotage the other, or acting like I’m some prize to win, both of you sit out for a week. No touching. No watching. Nothing.”

Khalid’s eyes darkened. “He’s the one who can’t handle losing.”

Chidi stood up fast chair tipping. “You think you’re special because you slept there one night? Because she let you come inside her again and again while the rest of us beg?”

Khalid rose too slower, colder. “She chose me to stay. She chose me this morning. You’re just the one who breaks rules and gets punished.”

Adeyemi stepped between them before fists could fly.

“Enough.”

Her voice cracked like a whip.

Both boys froze.

She looked at Khalid first. “Sit down.”

He did reluctantly.

Then Chidi. “You too.”

Chidi sat, breathing hard.

She turned to the group.

“New punishment for today’s behaviour. No one comes until Friday. Not even Khalid. Not even if I beg you to. You all edge yourselves tonight get right to the brink and stop. Three times. Send proof to the group chat. Timestamped. If anyone cheats, the whole thing ends permanently.”

Groans rippled through them.

“And tonight,” she continued, “no one comes to my flat. I need space. You need to cool off. Think about whether you can share without destroying everything.”

She paused, letting the quiet stretch.

“But tomorrow after school my flat. 5:30. If the rumours haven’t gotten worse. If you can walk through the school gates without looking like you’re about to kill each other. Then we resume. And I decide who gets relief first.”

She buttoned her top button the one she’d left open all lesson and picked up her bag.

“Now leave. Separately. Five minute gaps. No talking in the corridor.”

They filed out Khalid first, shoulders rigid.

Chidi last, fists clenched, eyes burning holes in Khalid’s back.

Adeyemi waited until the hallway was empty.

Then she leaned against the locked door, heart hammering, thighs slick under the wrapper.

The close call wasn’t the knock this time.

It was the four boys she’d turned into addicts jealous, possessive, barely leashed.

And the rumour that was starting to grow real teeth.

Friday was going to be dangerous.