VOICEOVER
Group study sessions at MU were a lie. No one studied. You brought your books, opened them to the right page, and then spent three hours gossiping, eating, and pretending you weren't there to see who showed up with whom. It was performance. It was theater. It was the closest thing to church most of these people ever got.
THE LIBRARY – GROUP STUDY ROOM, AFTERNOON
The room was small; a table, six chairs, a whiteboard covered in last week's calculus. The windows were fogged with heat.
Aaron sat at the head of the table, his anatomy textbook open, a highlighter in his hand. He hadn't highlighted anything in twenty minutes.
Vicky sat beside him, her thigh pressed against his. She was watching the door.
Mandy sat across from them, her notebook open, her pen moving. She wasn't writing anything; just doodling. Small circles. Interlocking.
Jon sat beside Mandy, his arm draped over the back of her chair. He was watching Aaron.
Charlie was there, supposedly for moral support. He had his phone under the table, texting Cynthia. His face was doing something strange; half smile, half terror.
Zizi sat at the far end, her chin in her hand, her eyes moving between Mandy and Aaron like a tennis umpire.
Ese was not there. She was never there for group things.
"So," Vicky said, breaking the silence. "Mandy. How are things with Jon?"
Mandy looked up. "Good. Great. He's wonderful."
"He is," Vicky agreed. "Very attentive. Always knows where you are."
The air thickened.
Jon's jaw tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just an observation." Vicky smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "You're lucky to have someone so... present."
Mandy's smile was equally cold. "I am. Very lucky."
The silence stretched.
Charlie cleared his throat. "So... the brachial plexus. Anyone want to explain it to me? No? Cool. Cool cool cool."
Aaron looked down at his textbook. The words blurred.
He could feel Mandy's eyes on him.
He could feel Vicky's nails on his arm.
He could feel Jon's stare like a weight.
This is fine, he thought. Everything is fine.
CHARLIE AND CYNTHIA – THE CAFETERIA, LATER
Charlie had planned this for days.
He'd showered. He'd worn his good shirt (the one without the stain). He'd even borrowed Wesley's cologne, which smelled like pine trees and regret.
Cynthia sat across from him, picking at a plate of jollof rice. She was wearing a yellow sundress. She looked like sunshine. He looked like a guy who had accidentally set his own hair on fire.
"So," Charlie said. "How was your day?"
"Fine."
"Fine good or fine bad?"
"Just fine."
"Cool. Cool cool cool."
He was doing the thing again. The thing where he said "cool" too many times. He couldn't stop.
Cynthia smiled. It was a polite smile. The kind you give to a child who shows you a drawing that's not very good.
"Charlie," she said.
"Yes?"
"Relax."
"I am relaxed. This is me relaxed. I'm a relaxed person. People call me Relaxed Charlie."
"No one calls you that."
"They will. Eventually."
She laughed. A real laugh. His chest loosened.
"Okay," she said. "Tell me something true."
He thought about it. "I've never had a girlfriend."
"Really?"
"Really. I've always been too... much. Or not enough. I don't know." He looked down at his hands. "I'm loud because I'm scared no one will hear me. I show off because I'm scared no one will see me. I compete because I'm scared I'm losing."
Cynthia reached across the table. Took his hand.
"I see you," she said.
Charlie's eyes got wet. "That's... that's really nice. I'm not going to cry."
"You're crying."
"These are tears of joy. There's a difference."
She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
For a moment, he wasn't the joke. He wasn't the punchline. He was just a boy holding hands with a girl who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he was enough.
Then he sneezed into his rice.
"Oh my God," Cynthia said.
"I'm so sorry."
"Did you just—"
"My nose tickled. It's not my fault."
She was laughing. Not the polite laugh. The real one. The one that made her eyes crinkle.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"Your idiot?"
She thought about it. "Maybe. Ask me again later."
Charlie grinned.
He could live with maybe.
THE GIRLS' DORM – NIGHT
Zizi found Ese on the balcony, staring at the stars.
It was cold. The harmattan wind had picked up. Ese was wearing a thin jacket, her arms wrapped around herself.
"You're always alone," Zizi said, stepping outside.
"I like the quiet."
"No one likes the quiet that much."
Ese didn't answer.
Zizi stood beside her, close enough to share warmth. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"That night. At the party. When Oliver was in the pool..." Zizi paused. "Where were you?"
Ese's face didn't change. "I was inside."
"Inside where?"
"In the kitchen. Getting water."
"Did anyone see you?"
Ese turned to look at her. Her eyes were dark, unreadable. "Why are you asking?"
Zizi held her gaze. "Because I saw you. On the balcony. Watching the pool. You were there the whole time."
The wind howled.
Ese smiled. It was a small smile; cold, private. "Then why are you asking?"
"Because I want to hear you say it."
"Say what?"
"That you watched him sink. That you didn't move. That you wanted to see what would happen."
Ese stepped closer. Close enough to whisper. "And what if I did? What if I wanted to know if anyone would save him? What would you do with that information, Zizi?"
Zizi's heart pounded. "I don't know."
"Then maybe you should forget you saw anything."
Ese walked back inside.
The door closed.
Zizi stood alone on the balcony, shivering.
She didn't know if she was cold from the wind or from something else entirely.
---
THE BOYS' DORM – SAME NIGHT
Charlie burst through the door, still buzzing.
"She held my hand," he announced.
No one responded.
"Did you hear me? Cynthia. The girl. The one I've been obsessing over. She HELD MY HAND."
Wesley looked up from his guitar. "Congratulations. You've achieved the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old."
"Fuck you, this is huge."
Oliver was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He hadn't spoken much since the hospital. His eyes were hollow.
Charlie's energy dimmed. "Oliver. You okay?"
"Fine."
"You've been saying that a lot."
"Because it keeps being true."
It wasn't true. They all knew it. But no one pushed.
Aaron sat at his desk, his phone face down. He was thinking about Mandy. About the library. About the way she said "I want to be what he needs."
What do I need?
He didn't know.
He was afraid to find out.
VOICEOVER
Charlie had a good day. A real one. He held a girl's hand and didn't mess it up. That was enough. For now. Zizi had a bad night. She saw something she wished she hadn't. Ese had a secret. She always had a secret. And Aaron had a question he couldn't answer. What do I need? The answer was coming. It always does. Whether you're ready or not.