The night after Presso's removal was the quietest Kalu Egbe had ever known. No shouts. No banging of lockers. No late-night calls to fetch water. Just the soft breathing of sleeping boys and the distant chirp of insects outside the dormitory.
Kalu lay awake for a while, listening. His body expected chaos, but none came. His mind remained on alert, as if waiting for Presso's voice to burst through the darkness. But it never did.
"Nna m ichi oke..." he whispered to himself. "Peace fit be real?"
From the bunk above, Nedu whispered back, "Sleep dey fear me now."
Fireboy snorted from across the room. "Enjoy am while e last. I no trust tomorrow yet."
They laughed quietly—a rare sound in the dormitory. For once, laughter did not feel dangerous.
The next morning, a new notice appeared on the hostel wall: "Disciplinary Tribunal to Begin." Presso's name was there, along with Big Mouth, Dankaka, and five other seniors.
Juniors gathered in clusters, reading, whispering.
"You see Big Mouth name?"
"E go cry today."
"Dem say Dankaka no talk since last night."
Even some seniors muttered to each other, their swagger reduced to uncertainty. The atmosphere was different now. The dormitories, once ruled by fear, now felt cautious—unsettled.
In class, Mr. Ogbemi walked the aisles as teachers taught. His presence was like a shadow that brought silence. Even the seniors who remained kept their heads down. Kalu noticed that teachers seemed more alert too, no longer avoiding eye contact with students.
At noon, a loudspeaker crackled. "All tribunal students, report to Admin Block."
From windows and corridors, students watched as Ogbemi's staff led the accused seniors in a line. No belts, no swagger—just silence.
One junior muttered, "Na like prison line."
Fireboy grinned. "Dem dey taste their medicine."
The tribunal itself was closed-door, but word spread fast. Seniors were questioned, witnesses called. A teacher who had once been silent now spoke against Big Mouth.
"E force boys to bring him food every day," the teacher confessed.
Kalu watched them go and felt something shift inside. Fear was still there, but beneath it, something new—hope.
That night, lights went out, but no one called for water. No senior shouted names. Kalu drifted into sleep, his first peaceful night at Old FGC.
But deep down, he knew: the fight wasn't over. Others would rise. But now, they had a chance.
To be continued...