Ben awoke the next morning to find his dormitory buzzing with an unusual energy. Something in the social weather had shifted overnight, but he couldn't say what, until David pulled him aside after morning assembly.
"Don't react," David said softly, steering him away from the others. "But people are talking about you and Sheila."
Ben's heart sank. "What are they saying?"
"That the two of you were together. Last night. Near the science building," David's face was somber. "Mark's telling it around. Not loud, not openly. Just... hints. Questions. 'Did you hear Science Boy and Sheila sneaking around after dark?' That kind of thing."
"We weren't sneaking-"
"Doesn't matter. In Mark's version, you're corrupting her. Taking advantage of her friendship. Using the cover of 'study sessions' for something improper."
The injustice of it bubbled in Ben's chest. They'd kissed. That was all. One lovely, innocent kiss in a dirty storage closet. And now Mark was twisting it into something filthy.
"What do I do?"
David shook his head. "I don't know, man. Denying it will make you look guilty. Confirming it will make it worse. You're trapped either way."
Chemistry class was torture. Ben sat in his usual spot two rows behind Sheila, highly conscious of the surrounding whispers. Mr. Opio's explanation of oxidation reactions became background noise for his roiling anxiety.
Class ended with Ben trying to catch Sheila's eye, but she was immediately surrounded by her friends. Peace's face was particularly stormy as she herded Sheila through the door.
"Sheila-" Ben started.
"Not now," Peace cut in, her voice cold. "She'll get to you later."
The rebuff stung, but Ben understood. Sheila was being protected, or perhaps interrogated. Either way, their secret was unraveling faster than he could keep up with.
Lunch brought renewed whispers. Ben caught students looking between him and Sheila's table, noticed how conversation halted when he walked by. Mark sat with his groupies, appearing supremely pleased, making the occasional remark that brought gales of laughter.
Ben forced himself to eat, but the food had no flavor, like trying to eat ash. This was worse than the note. That had been public and humiliating but soon over. This was slow poison, infecting every corner of school life.
"Ben Katongole?"
He looked up to find Susan Namubiru, head girl, standing at his table. Her face was professionally expressionless.
"Yes?"
"The headmaster would like to see you in his office. After lunch."
The dining hall went silent. It was never a good sign to be summoned to the headmaster's office. Ben felt at least a couple of dozen pairs of eyes on him as he nodded.
"What did you do?" Peter whispered across the table, his eyes wide.
"Nothing," Ben said, but his tone wasn't convincing.
The walk to the administration building was a march to the gallows. Ben's mind raced through scenarios. Had he been naked for being in the storage room after hours? Had Mark made a formal complaint? Was his scholarship in jeopardy?
Mrs. Akello was understanding when he entered the outer office. "Go right in, dear. He's waiting."
Headmaster Wasswa sat behind a huge desk that was covered in papers. He was a thin man who wore spectacles that made his eyes look bigger, but his fairness was legendary at St. Jude's.
"Sit down, Ben."
Ben sat, his hands gripping his knees to stop them from shaking.
"I've had some... concerns," the headmaster began, removing his glasses to clean them. "About your conduct with a female student. Miss Nalwanga."
"Sir, I haven't-"
"Let me finish." His voice was gentle but authoritative. "I'm not here to accuse you of anything. But I need to know what's happening. Have you been meeting Miss Nalwanga privately? Outside of normal school activities?"
The question was a trap. Lying would be worse if the truth were to come out afterward. But to confess was like admitting to a crime he had not committed.
"We talked once," Ben said warily. "After choir practice," In a storage room near the science building. We just talked."
"Just talked?"
Ben's face flushed with heat. "And... we kissed. Once. But sir, it wasn't-we didn't-"
"I do believe you." The headmaster replaced his glasses. "But Ben, you must look at how this looks. A male student and a female student, together in a storage closet after hours. Never mind whether your intentions were innocent or not, the appearance is bad."
"Sir, I like Sheila. I would never-"
"I understand." The headmaster's expression eased. "I've taught here for twenty-three years, Ben. I've seen love and I've seen manipulation. You appear to be a decent young man. But good intentions don't protect reputations."
"What now?"
"Now, you're going to be very careful. No more one-on-one visits to storage closets. No more scenarios that can be misinterpreted. If you want to hang out with Miss Nalwanga, do it publicly. In the library. At sports events. Places where your actions can't be questioned."
"And if I don't?"
The headmaster's voice hardened. "Then I'll have no choice but to phone your parents and hers. Is that what you want?"
Ben's chest tightened. Scandal was no stranger to his parents. His scholarship was contingent on good conduct. One complaint, one stain on his record, and all his family had sacrificed for could be lost.
"No, sir."
"Good." The headmaster stood, terminating the interview. "You may go. And Ben? Take heed of whom you select as friends. Not every smiling face has your best interests at heart."
Ben left the office feeling hollow. The implication was clear: he was being watched. One mistake, one perceived wrongdoing, and his entire future would collapse.
He found Sheila waiting under the mango tree, its large trunk partially hiding her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked as devastated as he felt.
"They called you too?" Ben asked.
She nodded. "Mrs. Akello. She was more polite about it, but the same message. We're being 'monitored for inappropriate behavior.'"
"This is Mark's fault."
"I know." Sheila's voice was tight with anger. "Peace told me he'd been asking questions. Spreading rumors. Making it sound like we're doing something to be ashamed of."
"We're not-"
"I know we're not!" She held his hand, then released it again, glancing around nervously. "But that won't make a difference to people who are waiting to think the worst."
They stood beneath the mango tree, bodies almost touching but not quite, and Ben felt the weight of impossible choices bearing down upon him.
"Maybe we should stop," he heard himself say. "Stop seeing each other. At least until this dies down."
Sheila's eyes burned with a combination of anger and hurt. "Is that what you want?"
"No. But I don't want to tarnish your reputation. I don't want my parents getting calls from the headmaster. I don't want-"
"You don't want to fight for us." Her voice was flat.
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Sheila stepped back, creating physical distance that felt emotional as well. "The moment things get difficult, you want to run. Again."
"I'm trying to protect you-"
"I don't need protection. I need someone who won't abandon me the instant it gets tough." Tears poured down her face. "I thought you were braver than that yesterday. In the storeroom. But maybe I was wrong."
"Sheila, please-"
"Go to class, Ben. I need to think."
She walked away, leaving Ben under the mango tree with the sinking feeling he'd flunked another crucial test. He'd wanted to be brave, to fight for what they had. But when confronted with real stakes-risk to his scholarship, his family's sacrifice, his future-he'd chosen security over love.
The afternoon periods passed in a daze. Ben sat through Literature and Math without listening to a word. His mind couldn't help but replay Sheila's face-the disappointment, the hurt, the anger.
*You don't want to fight for us.*
She was right. When the chips were down, he'd chosen self-preservation over courage. As always.
That evening, Ben skipped dinner and went straight to the library. But even his sanctuary gave him no comfort. The books felt like accusations, their silent wisdom a reminder of all he'd read of courage but never quite been able to put into practice.
He was getting out his chemistry textbook when a note, folded into a tiny square, fell from between the pages.
*Storage room. Midnight. If you're brave enough. - S*
Ben stared at the note, his heart racing. Midnight was well past curfew. When they were caught-and they would be caught-the punishment would be severe-suspension, possibly expulsion. Everything he had dreaded that afternoon would come to pass.
But Sheila was offering him a second chance. One last opportunity to prove to her that he was worth the risk she was undertaking.
The question was: would he accept it?