☆a 3rd posthumous birthday to the one who brought my writing to life.♡  i do hope these past 3 years have been simply a timeless moment of the bliss and peace you've always deserved.☆

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Ergo dum me diligis-
So long as you love me.
┗━━━━•❅•°•❈ - •°•❅•━━━━┛

008: Through The Lenses

"Okay, class. It's good to see everyone again. As you all know, every term there is a project which makes up for eighty percent of your assessment. You don't have to do, as Photography is just an elective, but gathering up more points will help to boost your GPA. Okay, I'm talking too much. I'll get to business."

He pointed towards the projector which was displaying a heading and a group of words arranged in blocks under every month from January to April that said, Let's Do 10.

"Let's Do 10; in this project, you have to take a photograph according to every theme in each week for every month. Since we are two weeks behind, it means you will have 3 different photographs to take this week alone. The due date for this project is March 29. In this project, the key points I will be assessing are the quality, aesthetics, and growth in each photograph you take."

Great, Marcel thought to himself. He'd have to take pictures all semester.

"It's a solo project, which means no partner. You do it all by yourself. I hope this makes you happier as some of you were not happy with last term's project. That will be all for today."

-

Switching on his laptop, Marcel waited patiently for the system to load and then once the process had been completed, hesitatingly typed in a message on his web browser.

Then he got up from his bed, eyes landing on a little box he'd kept in front of the drawer. Do not touch was written on paper tape, plastered on the split middle of the small carton.

Aggressively, he tore off the plaster and rolled it between his fingers into a little ball, tossing it out of the window while no one was looking.

"Just be grateful that thing did not land on one hostel master's head." Turned out, Moyo had seen him. "What's in the not so little box?"

Marcel didn't look up from unravelling his little secrets. "Nothing you need to know," he replied in an icy, quipped tone.

He pulled out the camera, and then carefully set it on the bed. He wiped it with the hem of his hoodie and then raised it to his eye.

"I didn't know you were into photography," Moyo commented.

At the moment, Moyo's ordinary comment had flew in and out of Marcel's ears. All he could hear was the sound of a slap as he stared into the lenses of his camera.

And another slap.

It came like a whiplash; a memory he'd tried so hard to forget. One which everyone had convinced him to move on, because they had all forgotten about. It was a past to them. But a torturing memory to him.

He could remember it as clear as day.

It was rare to be in this amazing mood. Usually, he was never in a good or bad mood. He smiled when needed and kept a straight face when a smile wasn't exactly necessary. Maybe it was the news that his grandparents would be coming to visit. He was especially pampered by them.

Feeling more energetic and alive than ever, he rushed out of his room, ready to bombard his sister with the new pictures he had taken on his camera.

He brought his camera to his eyes and didn't bother bringing it down, preferring to see the whole world through the lenses of his camera. He clicked a photo every now and then, much unbothered about storage.

Marcel cherished moments like these. Getting to capture a fleeting moment in a stillness forever. Having to look back on something that could have been simply transient, going just as it had come.

He'd gotten to the last floor after having an intense hike down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, all because of the pictures he wanted to have to himself.

He decided to make it one last picture, but something grotesque had come into sight. Grotesque enough to haunt his memory forever.

Right through his lenses, his sister's face came into view, being whipped to the side brutally every now and then. A loud, sharp sound of a large, rough palm, one too familiar, connecting with her face. Not once, not twice, but thrice.

Still through his lenses he watched, helpless and lost as his sister's frail figure staggered back from the impact of being hit. Standing in front of them was their own father.

About to yell at his sister, his father stopped, the new presence in the room settling on him like a dark cloud. He looked to his left slowly, surprised to see Marcel. "Marcellus–"

"Marcel!" his sister yelled and immediately began to run towards him. Marcel was in a loss for words. He hadn't envisioned this in his list of unpredictable events. His sister getting physically abused?

His sister appeared at his front, scaring him and jolting him back to reality. And as he slowly lowered his lenses, he seemed to have been thrown into a daze, seeing red bruises on his sister's panic stricken face, and the blood which had risen into the corner of her right eye.

She had been slapped that hard and bad.

Marcel dropped the camera unto the bed like it was suddenly a hot, burning object which had scalded his palms. He ruffled his hands through his messy curls at a loss for what step to take next.

Do I take Photography or not?

"Man, I forgot all about this thing." Marcel looked up as George spoke. He remembered how much he used to love photography. Over time, his love for it had faded away and every good memory attached to his camera had become vague to him. "Do you still use it well?"

He shook his head. "No. I was wondering if I should take up Photography as a subject."

"You should. I don't take Photography. It's the only free period I have in my curriculum. But it will help your transcript. Besides, you were already skilled at this photography thing."

He realized, George was in the dark about his problem with lenses now. He didn't remember that at some point, Marcel had refused to use his camera, even when everyone asked him why, he gave no answer.

George didn't remember.

"Okay."

-

A free period meant more reading for a student like Bukunmi. And that was exactly what she did; read. One-quarter of the period had gone by and she was about to spend the remaining three-quarters reading up on Radioactivity.

Never had she hated the mention of half-lives so badly.

She noticed the talkative boy next to her had been unusually quiet. Not that she really cared, she could at least read properly. Except, even the simple definition of Radioactivity was refusing to stick in.

Marcel typed quietly on his laptop. She'd taken a quick sneak earlier to see what he was doing, and when she saw that he was coding, all of her interest had disappeared. Whatever he was coding seemed very difficult.

Bukunmi let out a sigh in frustration. "I hate this so much," she muttered to herself, dropping her head on the table.

"What's wrong with you?" Marcel finally spoke up. Bukunmi fought the urge to smile, a tad bit pleased by the fact he was at least concerned.

"Radioactivity. It's not sticking, and the calculations are confusing too."

"Which one is it exactly? Notes or calculations?" Marcel closed his laptop and fully placed his attention on Bukunmi. The latter turned to look at him and for a moment, all the words she had for a response got hitched in her throat at the serious look on Marcel's face. He looked pissed, very pissed and also... downcast?

It was like he was trying not to show how angry he was but he couldn't, and it weighed him down.

"Notes first," Bukunmi answered meekly.

Marcel nodded, a simple act which almost made Bukunmi gape in awe. It seemed like every little thing he did affected her. He was had a serious effect on her and she didn't know why.

"If you're trying to memorize even the simple definition of Radioactivity, skimming it doesn't work. Or cramming, which isn't a good method, except in situations where you need to take in a lot at a time. Wait," he paused. Bukunmi stayed silent and waited just as he said, watching as he pulled out a bunch of small several colored papers. The top of each stuck unto the previous one like they had been bonded by glue.

Marcel tore a paper and put it on Bukunmi's desk, applying just little pressure on the top to ensure it stuck to the desk. "Here you can write down key points and always look at them. For instance, in the definition of Radioactivity, there will always be key words that will earn you marks, like spontaneous and emission. And luckily, these are the two words that begin the definition. From here, you can continue your explanation."

She was listening.

Really listening.

"You don't need to go with the definition in our notes. Use simpler definitions, ones you can remember. I will search up simpler ones for you and you can always choose which one is easiest to remember. And then," he tore another paper and glued it to the desk too. "Types of Radioactivity; there are two types. You can write them. Natural and artificial."

Physics had never been this simple for her.

He tore yet another. "For the three types of radiations; Alpha particles, Beta particles and Gamma rays."

Bukunmi was pulled back into reality when Marcel laughed suddenly. "You seem lost, ma'am. Am I too fast or...?"

"No!" Bukunmi yelled, loud enough to draw unwanted attention. Including George's and Jina's attention. The duo threw her a questioning look.

"Okay." Marcel chuckled to himself. The girl next to him looked flustered and it was very amusing to him that he had that effect on her.

"Sorry," Bukunmi apologized.

The class president walked in, before Marcel could give an answer, instantly commanding everyone's attention without needing to say even a word. He was a tall, bulky teenage boy and had been the representative for their class for years. In terms of academic intelligence, he did just as well as George and the other Intellectuals, but everyone knew he had only been chosen because of how feared he was.

He was definitely the most intimidating student in the school, and Andro came in next. Teachers had decided to put this fear the school had towards him to good use. And he excelled perfectly at his job.

"Good day, everyone. For the new students, I am Leon and I am the class president for the whole of SS3."

"Whole of SS3?" Marcel asked to himself.

Bukunmi responded, "Yes, he's in charge of the class as one. But in every departments, there are deputy class presidents, or assistant class presidents."

"I am here to inform everyone of the urgent casting of votes needed. The school has decided to increase prep time for UTME on Wednesdays. It is usually from eighth period to ninth period but now it is from lunch time to ninth period, or closing time."

Before comments and whispers sprung up from every corners of the room, Leon hit his book on the teacher's podium thrice. "My coming here isn't to cause unnecessary noise, SS3 Science. I have been to SS3 Arts and I reasoned with them just fine. I do understand what the protests are for, but if you have a problem with it, then I'd like for us to put across our complaints in an orderly manner. If you have anything to say, please raise your hand before we begin casting votes."

A girl from the corner of the class raised her hand and was given the go-ahead by Leon. "I don't agree with UTME prep from lunch time till closing."

With a curt nod, Leon replied, "Why do you say so?"

The girl shrugged, looking perplexed for a brief moment like she didn't expect to be asked a question like that. "UTME isn't the only exam we are going to write. We have WAEC and IGCSE too. And also our mock exams."

"You still haven't made your point crystal clear," Leon stated.

"What she is trying to say is, using three periods alone for CBT prep for a single exam isn't quite reasonable, Leon. It sounds like a waste of time. Besides, the first period after lunch time has always been used to teach a particular subject, why change it now?"

"Because they want all us to be well prepared for JAMB," Leon answered. "Building Stone High has had a reputation kept without blemish or stain for years, and they don't want our set to be the one to bring a negative change."

"So the school is projecting their doubts and insecurities on the students?"

The whole class turned to take a look at the new voice. Marcel had spoken and was unaware of the amount of heads he had turned.

"Projecting?" Leon raised a brow in question.

"I agree with the few people who have spoken against this addition of time to prep. If the time has been preserved for a particular subject, why don't we keep it that way? Besides, it happens in equal proportion; you take away the period for the particular subject being taught and it slows down the amount of knowledgeable information we are supposed to acquire regarding that subject, while we are less prepared for other exams."

That was it. Her mouth was wide open in awe as she shamelessly stared. How could so much sensible talk come from someone's mouth? So he didn't say just rubbish all the time, he could be very outspoken too?

The duality, she thought.

Leon nodded once again, deciding not to say anything that would be rendered as counterintuitive now that the whole class seemed to agree with Marcel. "Okay. Let's cast our votes then. If you agree with the new comer–"

"Marcel–"

Leon smiled. "If you agree with Marcel here, please raise your hands."

The whole class did.

"Thank you all." Leon took it as his cue to step out and go to the other departments.

"Making your way up to the top, I see?"

Marcel turned, confused as to what exactly Bukunmi meant by this. "I give it just today, you'd get the girls flocking to this table soon. Just the way they do for George."

"I still don't get what you mean."

Bukunmi gave a half-shrug. "You'll see for yourself–"

"George!"

The tall teenager who had been minding his own business, quietly leaving the class stopped walking and turned back to see whom had called for him. Seeing Marcel staring at him, he realized it was him and then walked over to Marcel's seat.

Surprised to see a blank-faced George at their front, the petite girl choked straight up on her saliva and fought back a deadly cough. "Are you okay?" Marcel questioned, a look of worry marring his features.

Bukunmi took a sip of the coffee in her water bottle, nodding hastily. "Yes, don't mind me. It's the dryness of this weather. I think I have a sore throat coming up."

Marcel blinked, then throwing a quick glance from Bukunmi to George and back, he realized why she'd truly coughed. "But..." he started, more amused than usual, "I think it's about to rain."

Bukunmi still fighting for her life, whipped her head to shoot Marcel a harsh glare. "So?"

Both communicated with their eyes while George stood, watching helplessly like an intruder. "I'm off to the hostel," he said to Marcel, ready to bolt out the door at any minute.

Marcel struggled to tear his gaze away from a flustered Bukunmi, switching from a knowing look as he answered George. "Wait up, bro. Let's go together. My seat partner is feeling a bit under the weather," Marcel was saying as he stood up.

"Your brain is under the weather," Bukunmi muttered with a hiss, loud and clear enough for Marcel to hear as she'd intended. This caught George's attention as he laughed to himself, eyes trained on Bukunmi with a newfound interest.

"What did you say?"

"I said we're supposed to be reading," Bukunmi answered with a daring confidence.

"Read without me. I haven't started the project for Photography."

Bukunmi scoffed. "Good luck with your silly project."

"Good luck with your silly reading," Marcel mocked, gesturing for George to leave with him. After they'd left the classroom, Bukunmi slouched in her seat and flipped open to a page of her textbook.

"I love reading so much."

-

Both George and Marcel walked through their journey back to the hostel room in silence. Until George broke it.

"Your partner. She's very... outspoken?"

"Outspoken?"

George nodded. "She can be sassy, and brave. Like the way she spoke up to the Principal. No one ever does that. And the way she gives you snarky remarks, it's amusing. She has a whole lot to her."

"Ew, you sound like you're falling in love," Marcel gagged jokingly.

George laughed, shrugging to Marcel's statement. "Not love but I do think I like her. Not in that romantic way. She piques my interest. And she's been everywhere these days. I don't know why I never really noticed her."

Because nothing is ever really important to you except your studies.

"Well, liking her in that way would complicate a lot of things. So maybe you should take your focus from her and put it on your seat partner."

"Jina?" George questioned. "I can never like Jina that way. She's just one of the few people I let in my circle. She's a good friend too. That's where it stops."

"She has everything," Marcel argued. "Brains, beauty, manners. I believe she has it all?"

"And Bukunmi doesn't have it all?" George retorted. Seeing that he had made a tricky statement, he looked away from Marcel.

Marcel scoffed. "Did you say that intentionally?"

George was quick to shake his head in self defense. "No. I genuinely did not mean anything. All I'm trying to say is, none of those things matter to me. I don't like Jina like that, never will."

"What about Bukunmi?"

Marcel was starting to get angry. Liking her now would cause a huge problem. He liked Bukunmi, and he would obviously be glad if she liked him back. But George coming into the picture wasn't something he had really thought of.

"I don't know for now. I'll see."

Not expecting a response, George continued his walk to the hostel room, unaware of the conflicted thoughts that had begun brewing in Marcel's head.

"What if he ends up liking her?"