Schoolgirl’s Secret
Chapter Five – The Slip
It was the last weekend of the term, and Victoria Hill’s campus buzzed with end-of-term excitement. Students hurried to clear their lockers. Whispered rumors of who had passed and who had flunked hung in the air like electricity.
Brenda, though, was distracted.
She had aced her Literature paper. Her debate group had earned a national invitation. On the surface, things were golden.
But inside, she was fraying.
Brian had become more than a secret. He had become her relief, her validation, her escape from pressure. With Mercy barely speaking to her and her father trusting her too much to suspect anything, Brenda walked freely in a world no one else could see.
That Saturday, she told her father she was heading to a group study session. He handed her some transport money without question. She dressed simply, packed her debate notes as camouflage, and left.
She wasn’t going to study.
Brian’s cousin had traveled. The flat was quiet, dimly lit, and unusually still. Brenda dropped her bag on the chair as he poured them both juice.
They talked—about the future, about dreams. Brenda confessed she wanted to apply for a scholarship abroad. Brian said he believed in her.
“You’re different, Brenda,” he said softly. “There’s something about you… you don’t even know your power yet.”
She blushed.
He touched her hand again. She didn’t move it.
Then came the silence—the kind that hums louder than any words. His arm slid gently over her shoulder. His voice softened.
“I would never hurt you.”
And Brenda, brilliant and brave and sixteen, made a choice.
A quiet, trembling yes—without a full grasp of its weight.
It was over quickly. Not harsh. Not forceful. But afterwards, as Brenda sat at the edge of the bed clutching her books like armor, the weight hit her all at once.
Brian handed her a tissue.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling his shirt back on.
Brenda nodded too quickly.
“I—I have to go.”
“I can call a boda—”
“No. I’ll Walk.”
He didn’t argue. Just handed her bag and kissed her forehead like a friend.
She walked the long road back in silence.
Her shoes filled with dust. Her mind replayed every moment.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, she thought. Not in silence. Not as a secret.
When she got home, her father was asleep on the couch with the radio still playing.
She tiptoed past, locked herself in her room, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She looked the same. But something had changed. Something had slipped.
And though she tried to sleep, a deep ache in her chest kept her wide awake.