It started with a compliment in class.
Mr. Adesina was assigning roles for the school's upcoming debate showcase — something students took more seriously than exams — and when he read my name, something shifted in the room.
"First speaker… not Christabel," he said, scanning the sheet.
Then louder, "It's you."
Twenty pairs of eyes turned.
I blinked. "Me?"
Mr. Adesina smiled. "You've found your voice. I'd like everyone else to hear it too."
A few students nodded. Some looked surprised.
Christabel just smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
That afternoon, she waited for me by my locker. The hallway had thinned out, the buzz of school replaced with silence, just like the tension in her eyes.
"You're doing the debate?" she asked, soft but sharp.
I nodded. "Yeah. Mr. Adesina picked me."
Her lips pressed into a line. "He usually picks me."
There it was.
Not jealousy exactly. But confusion. Like her world had tilted slightly, and she was trying to steady it.
"I guess people are finally noticing," I said. It came out harsher than I meant.
She flinched, just a bit. "You've changed."
I wanted to say Yes. I have.
I wanted to say I'm tired of being your shadow.
Instead, I just said, "Maybe I'm just… starting."
She didn't reply. She just stared like she didn't recognize me anymore — or maybe like she finally did.
---
Later that evening, my phone buzzed.
Dami.
The guy from the party. The one who'd said he liked my laugh. We'd been texting here and there, nothing serious. But now, the messages were longer. Warmer.
> Dami: So… rumor has it you're debating this week?
Me: Word spreads fast.
Dami: I listen when it matters. You're kind of… hard to ignore lately.
I read that line three times. Hard to ignore. It was the first time someone had said that about me.
---
Two days later, it happened.
The shortlist for the school magazine team was pinned to the board. I had submitted a poem — anonymously — never expecting much.
But there it was.
First Place: "A Girl Without a Name" – by [My Name]
Gasps. Whispers. And then — my name spoken, not as Christabel's friend, but as a voice that stood on its own.
I didn't even notice Christabel beside me until she murmured, "You wrote that?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Her brows lifted — not in surprise, but in realization.
"You're not just stepping out of the shadow," she said. "You're kind of… glowing."
And just like that, the balance shifted.
---