The Cost of Charm
The morning sun spilled over Kingsbridge Secondary School in thick amber ribbons, gilding the white pillars of the assembly hall and turning the courtyard below into something almost cinematic. From her vantage point at the top of the concrete steps, Oba watched the sea of blue-and-white uniforms shuffle into rows, prefects barking half-hearted commands that nobody quite obeyed until the third or fourth repetition.
She liked mornings like this. Liked the way the light made even the most ordinary things—chipped paint, scuffed shoes, the crooked school crest above the entrance—look touched by something generous. It was the kind of light that made a girl believe order was possible, that a day could be planned and executed cleanly, the way she planned everything else in her life.
Oba smoothed the collar of her blouse, checked that her badge sat straight against her chest. *Best Graduating Student, SS2*. She'd earned that badge through years of refusing to let herself be anything less than exact—early to class, meticulous with her notes, generous with her time only after she'd accounted for every hour she owed herself. Her mother always said Oba organized her life like a woman…
