Slam Ducklings

ene – The A

urs over the assembled student body. The air hummed with the dissonant chords of the school orchestra tuning up and the far more compelling symphony of whispered gossip. Uniforms-navy blazers, cri

r voice a dry, precise instrument that required no m

e the theme 'Identity Across Continents.' This is a collaborative effort. You will work in pairs to research, design,

lips. This was her territory. A research project? A structured presentation? It was an academic sanctuary, an easy win where logic and pr

"The pairings have been assigned to

r notebook, ready to jot down

e cut clearly through the air, "you

n the sudden, rapt silence that followed. Every head in the Lys section swivelled towards her, then towards the A

no effort to conceal, was a sharp, hus

words carrying on a wave of collective

s held a glacial fury that could, she was certain, melt the snow piled high on the wi

roke the silence. The Diaz-Adeyemi saga h

o – The G

l projects and, legend had it, secret diplomatic meetings a century ago. Its walls were panelled in dark mahogany, interrupted by massive, gilded mirrors in rococo frames that reflected the light from a colossal

n, dropping her armful of books and leather-bound note

sed. "Let's establish ground rules. Minimal talking, f

use that's going to be a particularly challenging rule to follow." He ran a hand appreciatively over

hair, placing the table like a moat between them. He, in contrast, sprawled on the sofa opposite, his

focus on," she stated, opening

e said witho

Mexican Scholar'? The gossip blogs would have a f

You pic

xic

ading. "Too spicy. All that heat migh

e impo

er out." He gestured between them with a lazy ha

ico cultural fusion. We can explore the parallels in colonial history, the resilienc

like it. Sounds like a restaurant I'd take y

a pen from her bag and threw it at him. It was an impulsive, juvenile act, one she immediat

he said, twirling the

," she shot back, h

ree – The

rchives of traditional attire-a vibrant display of Nigerian aso-oke and colourful Mexican huipils side-by-side on the screen. Th

A tiny, almost imperceptible shock of static electricity jumped fr

ered, her voice tight

looking up from the screen. His voice

That's ri

gne. It's drawing you in. A

ing back further into her own space. "Two thin

he whi

tood up abruptly. The wooden legs of her chair scraped against the pa

er than she expected, close enough for her to see the faint shadow of his lashes on his cheeks, the

r voice dropping to a whisper, the question she'

rugged, a small, fluid movement. "Because it fits. You're all polished manners

gs. For a long, suspended moment, she forgot how to breathe, how

e door

eked into the room. Their eyes darted from Dami's imposing stance to Sofia

-?" one start

ck to its usual casual confidence, though h

e vanishing back into the hallway, the door clicking

nds against her eyes. "Congratulations. We're trending again. By dinner, th

a smirk playing on his lips. "Let them think wha

a and hurled it at his head. He ducked, laughing, the sound rich and unforced, echoing

– Vulnerab

hat set the gold leaf on the mirrors and frames ablaze. The room was bathed in a warm, nostalgic glow. They had been working for hours, and the

e Dami was sketching a concept for their presentation backdrop. She glanced up and caught him not looking at his paper, but staring

d, the question softe

w. "Every day," he said quietly, the performance and the pretense stripped away. His voice was different like this-softer, younger. "But

s was a side of him he kept locked away, the boy

spread it around. I've got a reputation t

ve of her lips. "A bad boy with

ess," he said, but th

m of it," she

They worked in tandem, the scratch of his pencil and the tap of her keys a companionable duet. The snow fell

in, her voice barely a whisper. "You

his eyes catching the amber l

id, holding his gaze. "Less...

e wh

hed her lips. "Earn it," she sa

e – Rumour

log, Le Canard Lysé (The Lys Duckling), lived up to its name. Th

ht 'Study Session.' WHAT Were They Really

r window: one of them standing close, another of Sofia laughing despite herself after the cushi

during breakfast, a half-amused,

he common room, her tablet gripped in her white-knuck

ping in front of him. "Y

of the photos. "They got my good side. T

trangle you. Wit

e," he said, pushing himself up from t

the polished stone. They weaved through groups of startled students, him glancing back with a triumphant grin, her giving chase with a scowl that was rapi

Scene – F

os House, Dami lay awake in the dark, the blue light of his phone illuminating his face. He was scrolling through the project

been complaining about the dust from an old book, and she had snapped the picture as a joke. In the background of the reflection in the window

ring over the screen. A slow, private smile spread

of his room, the word laden with a ne

r-bound diary. The page was filled with her neat, sloping script, detailing project timelines a

for some stupid, inexplicable, utterl

anes. Somewhere, a storm was beginning to brew-a tempest of rumours, of shared glances in a golden