Monday morning arrived with a soft drizzle. The clouds hung low, and the school grounds felt more like a quiet university campus than the usual bustling secondary school. Angel stepped out of the car as her driver held the umbrella. She nodded silently, tucking her hand into her blazer pocket as she made her way through the gate.
She wasn't invisible anymore.
Since the Talent Showcase, Angel had become someone people noticed. She wasn't used to that. People who used to walk past her without a glance now gave short greetings. Her name had begun to echo in more places than just the class roll call — in the corridors, on teachers' lips, and even whispered among students from other arms.
In class, Mrs. Omolade's English lesson was already underway when she stepped in.
"Good," the teacher said, nodding at her. "Angel, group leader of the Showcase winners. You people caused noise in staffroom today."
Some of the students laughed. Angel took her seat and opened her notebook.
"Next week," Mrs. Omolade continued, "we start revision quizzes. You people that are busy doing competition, I hope you've not thrown your textbooks away."
Angel didn't answer, but she was listening. She always did.
After English, there was Literature — and that was when it happened.
Mrs. Raymond, their Literature teacher, stood at the front of the class with a familiar clipboard. "We have a new student," she announced. "Transferred from Rivers State. Strong academic record. She'll be joining this class and Group C for now."
Whispers fluttered.
Then the girl walked in.
Her name was Juliet Nwafor. Her posture was straight, her eyes alert, her school uniform ironed to perfection. But there was no attempt to "stand out." She simply walked in like she'd always belonged.
"She'll be taking over as the new rep for Literature in Group C," Mrs. Dean added, "as her WAEC prep grades in English are already ahead."
Juliet glanced briefly at Angel as she moved to take the empty seat beside the window.
Angel didn't look back. But she felt the stare.
In the back corner, Kelly V whispered to Mimi, "She looks serious."
Mimi replied, "She looks like competition."
By lunchtime, the weather had cleared and the campus was bright again. Angel walked to the table near the mango tree — the one her group unofficially claimed after the competition.
Mimi and Kelly V were already there. Kelly V was in the middle of a story about a math question she answered with a wrong formula but still got the right answer.
"I think I'm cursed with backward brilliance," she said.
They laughed. Even Angel smiled, though briefly.
Karen, the quiet junior who had no friends in her own class, joined the table again. She'd become a silent part of their group — always there, never talking much.
Angel didn't mind.
She liked people who didn't pressure her to be someone she wasn't.
That afternoon, they had their first Academic Checkpoint meeting — a weekly review system introduced by the school to help competition participants stay on top of studies. All showcase winners were invited to the resource room after school.
Angel sat with her group — Jordan was already there, reading a debate prompt.
Juliet was also there, seated with Group C and reading quietly.
Each group was given a research topic tied to their school subjects. Group A's topic: "The Role of the Arts in African Education."
It wasn't a performance. It was a paper. A real, graded, academic paper.
Angel leaned over to Jordan. "You write better than you talk."
He gave her a sideways look. "That's why I don't waste words."
She chuckled — not out loud, but somewhere inside.
At home, the sky was quiet again.
Captain Dewson wasn't around — he had called earlier to say he would be staying overnight at the barracks due to a last-minute logistics operation. Angel had just nodded when the nanny, Mama Ije, handed her the phone.
She went upstairs and dropped her bag.
Then she sat at her desk and opened the assignment brief again. A full paper. Three weeks. 15 marks added to the term grade.
She glanced out her window.
She didn't want to fail. She didn't want her name to be mentioned only because she danced on stage. She wanted it to matter in her academic record too.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
"Looks like we'll be meeting in more than just Literature. Let's see who thinks better — not just louder. — Juliet."
Angel looked at it.
No smile. No frown.
Just one reply.
"We'll see."