The chairs in the training room had not been arranged yet. A few boys leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, whispering as others entered. Something about the air felt different. Tense. Like everyone had come with something unsaid.
Uzo walked in with Adaeze and Ikenna close behind him. He paused and looked around. Some faces he knew. Others were new. The front row was empty, as if no one wanted to be seen taking sides.
"We should begin," Adaeze whispered.
Uzo nodded. He stepped forward and lifted his voice. "Thank you all for coming today. Before we begin, I want to say this "
"Why should we even be here?" a voice shouted from the back.
It was one of the new boys. A tall one with a scar above his eye. He stepped forward.
"You people think you own this thing. That it belongs to you."
Murmurs followed. Some nodded. Others stayed silent.
Uzo stood still. "No one owns this. This space was created for growth. For all of us."
"Then why is everything decided by three people?" the boy asked, pointing at Uzo, then Adaeze, then Ikenna. "What about the rest of us?"
Uzo opened his mouth to reply, but the door behind them slammed open.
Another group entered. They were loud. Confident. One of them shoved a chair aside and sat down in the center.
Ikenna stepped forward. "What is going on?"
Someone else stood up. "You say we are here to grow, but some of us have not been allowed to speak since we arrived. Every time we suggest something, we are ignored."
Adaeze raised her hand gently. "Please, we can talk about this calmly."
But calm had already left the room.
The tall boy with the scar moved toward the center. "You want peace, but we are tired of being quiet."
Suddenly, two boys from opposing groups began to shout at each other. A chair was kicked. Someone threw a water bottle. The room erupted.
Uzo stepped back as hands pushed and voices rose. The conflict that had been simmering for weeks had finally boiled over.
"No fights," he shouted. "Everyone stop!"
But no one listened.
It took fifteen minutes before the building calmed. By then, two boys had stormed out. One table was flipped. A girl cried in the corner.
Someone looked at Uzo and said loud enough for others to hear, "You've lost control."
He said nothing.
That night, the message reached outside the center. People began to talk. Parents heard. Community leaders heard. The small project that had once been praised was now whispered about in caution.
The next day, a letter came.
It was unsigned.
But the message was clear: step back. The project needed a pause. A formal review. And maybe, a new direction.
Uzo held the paper in his hands, reading it over and over.
Adaeze stood beside him in silence.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
He did not answer.
She took the letter and folded it. "This is what they wanted. A crack to say the whole wall is falling."
Uzo sat down.
Ikenna entered with a bag of rice and dropped it on the table. "So it's true?"
"Yes," Adaeze said.
"Good," he said. "Let them think they've won."
Uzo looked up. "We are not fighting them."
"Then what are we doing?" Ikenna snapped. "Letting them walk all over us? They want you gone. And now the whole community is turning against us. This isn't silence. It's collapse."
Uzo leaned forward. "No. This is the testing of our foundation. If what we built was just noise, then it will fall. But if it was real, then this pressure will purify it."
Adaeze looked at both of them. "We need to decide. Do we wait? Do we rest? Or do we rebuild?"
"No public move," Uzo said. "Not yet. We stay low. We watch. And we begin again. Not where the noise is. But where the roots can grow."
There was silence in the room. The kind that does not ask for answers, only commitment.
Then Adaeze said, "Where do we start?"
"With the ones who still believe," Uzo replied.
Later that evening, he sat on the steps outside the building. A boy walked by slowly. One of the new ones. He looked at Uzo but did not greet.
Another sign.
Still, Uzo did not look away. He stayed seated until the sky turned orange.
He remembered the words he once said to the team.
"Do not assume loyalty from anyone. We love them. We teach them. But not everyone has chosen courage yet."
That night, he walked to a nearby mechanic shop. The chair in the youth center had broken. The man behind the counter paused when he saw him.
"You still dey that youth work?" the man asked.
Uzo nodded.
"You get mind o."
He smiled politely.
The man lowered his voice. "No be say make you fear. But I hear say dem wan invite you soon. High table matter. Be careful."
Uzo nodded. "Thank you."
As he walked back, he noticed someone watching from across the road.
It was a face he recognized. From the early days. Someone who had never clapped. Never smiled.
Just stared.
Now the stare was stronger.
But Uzo walked on, not faster, not slower.
The road ahead was darker than before.
But still, he walked.