The Tuesday morning air at Edgewood felt a bit cooler than usual. A light drizzle had fallen the night before, soaking the football field and leaving a faint earthy scent hanging in the air. Students moved at a slower pace, sweaters pulled down to their knuckles, yawns muffled behind their exercise books.
Rudd got to class earlier than most. The table was slightly damp, so he wiped it off with the hem of his sleeve before setting his books down. He hadn't slept well—he hardly ever did—but last night had been particularly tough. The quote from Scarlet's status was still echoing in his head.
People get tired of waiting...
It was almost as if she knew he had seen it. Maybe she wrote it for him. Or maybe not. That uncertainty nagged at him. He was definitely overthinking it. As usual.
Scarlet showed up a little later than normal. Her backpack hung off one shoulder, and she didn't smile at all, not even at Amara's loud jokes. She waved briefly at Kiki before settling down in her seat, a quietness about her that suggested she had a lot on her mind.
Rudd noticed every little thing—the way her pen flicked, how often she stared out the window, how she adjusted her scrunchie without even realizing it. He noticed everything. Except how to talk to her.
"Have you finished that math assignment?" a voice called from behind him.
It was Dayo. Loud, reckless, and Rudd's seatmate—his own personal comic relief. He tossed his bag onto the table like it owed him money.
"Yeah," Rudd said, sliding a sheet of paper across to him.
Dayo flashed a half-grin. "You always come to my rescue. If you marry Scarlet, I'll be the best man."
Rudd froze. "What?"
Dayo burst into laughter. "Come on, man, I'm just kidding! But still... it's pretty obvious."
Rudd didn't reply.
Scarlet glanced over, briefly catching Rudd's eye. Just for a moment. Then she was back to her book.
Third period rolled around—Civic Education.
Mr. Adigun, the teacher, seemed to be in a good mood today. He cracked a few jokes before diving into a talk about leadership and responsibility. But half the class drifted off almost right away.
Gabriel strolled in halfway through the period, late and unapologetic. He had a note from the Vice Principal and a smirk that said he couldn't care less if the teacher minded.
Scarlet stiffened in her seat.
Gab totally ignored everyone and plopped down two seats behind her. Throughout the lesson, he tapped his pen against the desk in an annoying rhythm—definitely a calculated distraction. At one point, he ripped a sheet from his notebook and tossed it onto her desk.
She didn't open it. Just crumpled it and tossed it under her desk.
The tension in the room wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough for Rudd to feel. Gab's ego had taken a hit yesterday, and it hadn't healed. Rudd clenched his jaw.
After class, Rudd hung back by the doorway as students streamed out. Scarlet bent down to grab her bag when Gab brushed past her, way too close again.
"Careful," she said, her voice low but firm.
Gab turned around, his eyes dark and slow. "Don't flatter yourself."
Scarlet shot him a cold smile. "Then don't follow me."
He scoffed and walked away.
"Scarlet," Rudd said, surprising even himself.
She turned to face him.
He almost froze. But something—maybe the quiet anger, or the sleepless night—pushed him to speak.
"I saw what happened," he said. "If he keeps... you know, just let me know."
She tilted her head, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decipher something behind his silence. "You care?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You always act like you're watching life from a distance, Rudd. But whenever something really matters, you disappear."
That stung. Because it was true.
She wasn't accusing him—just pointing it out. Calmly, quietly. She smiled a small smile—not warm, more like understanding—and walked off before he could respond.
At lunch, rumors swirled about a surprise test in biology and a stolen calculator in SS1. Edgewood had its own ecosystem of gossip and noise.
Dapo arrived during lunch. He wasn't in Rudd's class, but his reputation was already spreading—sharp dresser, transfer from another private school, known for being "too fresh." He was charming with dimples that quickly made him blend in with the louder boys.
"Who's that?" Dayo asked, craning his neck toward the crowd near the tap.
"New kid," Aisha said from a few steps away. "I heard he's rich."
Scarlet didn't seem to notice him yet.
After school, the sky had turned a pale gray. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
Rudd was heading toward the library when he spotted Scarlet again—this time alone under a tree by the assembly ground. She was sketching something in a little notebook, earphones in, her legs tucked under her.
He wanted to keep walking.
But he didn't.
He walked over, slowly and uncertainly.
"You draw?" he asked.
She looked up, startled, pulling one earbud out. "Yeah. Sometimes."
"What's that?"
She angled the notebook slightly. It was a rough sketch of their classroom—the seats, the window, and even him—faint outlines, but he was there, leaning near the window. Silent. Observing.
He couldn't take his eyes off it.
"You drew me?"
Scarlet gave a tired smile. "I draw what I see."
Silence hung in the air—not awkward, just heavy.
"You're hard to figure out," she said. "Feels like you're always almost there."
Rudd's throat tightened. "I just... think too much."
She nodded. "I can believe that."
A breeze picked up, rustling the pages of her book. She closed it.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she went on, her voice dropping. "But sometimes I wish you'd just say what's on your mind."
Rudd opened his mouth.
Then—
"Scarlet!" Amara's voice called from a distance. "We're waiting for you!"
She stood, hesitating. "Bye, Rudd."
He nodded. "Yeah. Bye."
And just like that, the moment slipped away.