Almost Forever

The morning sun had no business being that bright. Not when I was already running late. I didn’t even bother tucking in the rest of my shirt as I bolted through the school gate, heart pounding, my old blue notebook clutched to my chest like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe it did, if WAEC past questions counted as cosmic knowledge. The security guard gave me the same look he reserved for serial offenders like me. I didn’t even bother explaining.

What was the point?

WAEC was in full swing, my room was a mess of past questions and forgotten timetable sheets, and my mom’s voice from breakfast still echoed in my head

“Jane, don’t let this lateness of yours be what people remember you for o.”

I wasn’t trying to be remembered. I was just trying to survive the chaos. I wasn't watching where I was going. The corridor was crowded. I swerved to avoid two girls giggling over a phone and smacked straight into a solid chest.

"Whoa, sorry," I stammered, stumbling back. A hand caught my elbow gently.

"Are you okay?" That voice. Low, calm. I looked up, flustered. It was him. Henry.

The boy with the sketchbook always sticking out of his bag. The one who always seemed unbothered by the chaos around us. He had this way of looking like he wasn’t trying at anything, like the world could be burning and he’d still find something beautiful in it. His eyes were dark and still like a lake that didn't ripple even when the wind blew. He let go of my arm as I steadied myself and stepped back.

"You alright?" he asked again.

"Yeah," I said too quickly, avoiding his gaze.

I pulled away quickly and rushed past. I didn’t look back. Not really. That’s why I didn’t notice his gaze had lasted longer than it was supposed to. Lingering like a question.

In class, the fan made that annoying click-click sound, it smelled of chalk and leftover exam panic. I slid into my seat just as the bell rang. My friends were already whispering, their voices low but urgent. They were talking about admission lists, campus parties, freedom, and who they might finally kiss before we all scattered like dandelion seeds. I wasn't listening. Not properly. My eyes drifted. Two rows ahead, Henry was bent over his desk, scribbling absentmindedly in his notebook. He did that a lot—sketched things no one else noticed. Once, I saw him draw a perfect replica of our leaking ceiling. Down to the crack in the middle. I found myself watching him doodle with long, careful strokes. He glanced back. Just for a second. Our eyes met. And it was nothing. Just a look. It was just a second. Maybe less. No music. But my stomach dipped in that weird, unexplainable way and I looked away.

They crammed us into the assembly hall like we weren’t all already boiling from exam tension and heat. Principal Eze stood on stage, giving a speech I knew he’d repeated every year since 1992.

"You are the future," he said. "Step boldly into the world."

I tried to focus. I did.

But my mind kept floating to the space between now and next. Farewell ceremonies always made me feel like I was in someone else’s story. People cried. People hugged. I just stared at the principal’s shoes as he continued on about our future. Everyone around me seemed to have a plan—schools, scholarships, Canada. I just had this weight in my chest. Like something was ending before I had the chance to really experience it.

Between books and chores, where was the time?

Someone sniffled behind me. I turned my head slightly.

Henry stood behind me. Not too close. But close enough that I could feel him. That strange awareness again, buzzing beneath my skin. He stood there. Quiet. Still. Like always. He wasn’t looking at the stage. He was looking at me. Like he saw something he hadn’t seen before. I didn’t smile. I didn’t frown either. I just stood there, aware of him in that strange way you notice things that were always there but suddenly feel... more visible.

Again I looked away.

After school, the clouds finally gave up pretending. The sky cracked open with a roar, and the rain came down in sheets. Most people scattered, hopping into keke napeps or ducking under awnings. I was stuck, backpack slung over my shoulder, shoes already damp. I stood beneath the corridor, trying to time the rain. Maybe it would ease up in five minutes. Maybe ten. Then a shadow stopped beside me.

"Do you want to share?"

Henry. He held up an umbrella. It was small. Barely big enough for one person. But I nodded anyway. We walked in silence. The rain hissed around us, loud and endless. His arm brushed mine once; I pretended not to notice. I mumbled something about how the rain always waited till after school. He laughed softly. It was the first time I noticed his dimples. They weren’t deep. Just these faint creases that appeared like a secret he only shared when he was really amused. I stared too long and looked away too fast.

He said, "You always walk home alone?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

He nodded like he understood something I didn’t say. When we got to the junction, he tilted the umbrella more to my side.

"This is me," I said, pointing at the corner.

He nodded again. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah." We didn’t say goodbye.

That night, I curled up in bed with my journal. The rain still tapped the roof, soft and steady like a lullaby. I chewed the end of my pen, staring at the blank page.

"Shared an umbrella with Henry today. That quiet boy from science class. He’s nicer than I thought. And taller."

I paused. Then wrote: " We walked home together. His eyes make me feel some type of way.. It's different."

I tapped the end of my pen against the page. "How come I never paid attention to him till now?

I hovered over the word crush, too scared to write it down. It wasn't that I didn't know who Henry was. I did. Everybody did. He was the boy who always sat somewhere near the front in Science class, the one who actually seemed to enjoy answering questions. He was always neat, always drawing something.

I had noticed him a few times, but I had never stopped long enough to think about it.

There had always been something else to do.

Read.

Study.

Finish an assignment.

Prepare for the next test.

My books had always been easier to understand than boys.

Besides, Mum had made her position on boys very clear.

"Boys are trouble."

She had said it so many times that it had almost become a sign on my forehead.

"Boys will distract you."

"Boys will tell you anything."

"Don't let any boy come and spoil your future."

Sometimes she said it while plaiting my hair. Sometimes while helping me with my homework. Sometimes when I came home talking about something funny one of the boys in class had done.

And I always listened; after all, Mother knew best.

Didn't she?

It was funny, though, because Mum had a husband. My father. They laughed together, argued over little things, ate from the same pot and somehow still seemed happy after all these years.

So maybe boys weren't completely bad, or maybe husbands were different.

I didn't know. And I wasn't particularly interested in finding out. Not yet, anyway. School came first. That was what I told myself.

Except now, after one walk home in the rain, my carefully organized little world had developed a small crack in it.

I looked down at the page again.

I wrote the word crush.

Then quickly scratched it out.

No.

Absolutely not.

Crushes didn't develop overnight, right?

I stared at the scratched-out word, then laughed quietly to myself.

"Definitely not," I whispered.

I closed the journal and placed it beside my pillow. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling while the rain continued outside.

For the first time, I found myself wondering what Henry was doing.

Whether he was thinking about our walk too. Whether he'd thought about me before today. Whether tomorrow would feel different.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin. I still didn't know what the feeling was. But I knew one thing.

For someone who had spent so much time telling herself that boys were a distraction, I suddenly couldn't stop thinking about one.