Broken Boundaries

Chapter 11: No More Extra Lessons

Dominic

Morning sunlight filters through the narrow windows as I trail behind Mr. Kunle toward the principal’s office. My footsteps echo in the quiet hallway, each step sinking a little deeper into my stomach. I can’t shake the feeling that something is off, but I hope it’s just another routine meeting.

As soon as I step inside, I spot Mr. Sebastian, the biology teacher, standing stiffly beside Mrs. Dolton's cluttered desk. His stern gaze meets mine briefly before shifting away. The principal, Mrs. Dolton, leans back in her chair with a practiced air of indifference.

“Mr. Dominic,” she begins, her voice crisp and formal, “Mr. Kunle has brought something to our attention that needs to be addressed immediately.” She glances at Mr. Kunle, who avoids my eyes as though the tiles on the floor suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the room. “I’m afraid you need to end the extra lessons with Celeste. Effective today.”

My brows pull together. “Why?” I shoot a quick look at Mr. Kunle, hoping for an explanation, but his face remains almost blank. If he’s got any thoughts on this, he’s keeping them locked up tight.

“As her guardian, Mr. Kunle has the right to make such a request,” Mrs. Dolton answers. “You see, Celeste is the only child of her parents, and her mother works tirelessly as a domestic worker in Florida. She relies on Mr. Kunle to look out for Celeste here.”

“So… this is about her family situation?” I ask, trying to piece together what I’m hearing.

“Since you began tutoring Celeste, I've noticed some... changes in her behavior,” Mr. Kunle finally speaks, though his voice is quieter than usual. “Yesterday, she locked herself up in her room carrying out a biology practical. I found out it wasn’t even one of the ten projects assigned. She does this kind of thing when she’s upset.”

“She’s been quiet lately. Quieter than usual,” he continues, concern shading his tone. “Celeste can be reserved, but she’s never been this distant. Her words are few—she barely said anything in the past few weeks, and she’s easily irritated. If you know what I mean.”

The way he speaks about her, it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize his own niece anymore. “If you’re really that concerned about Celeste, shouldn’t you be the one finding out what’s bothering her?” I ask, my voice rising without meaning to. “You’re her family. Shouldn’t you know?”

Mrs. Dolton’s eyes narrow at me, and for a moment, I think she’s going to snap. But then Mr. Sebastian chimes in. “We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong, Mr. Dominic. We just want to ensure what’s best for her.” His tone is almost apologetic, but his gaze is firm.

“Well, then you should know her English grades have improved,” Mrs. Dolton retort. “She scored sixty-five percent in her last test. That’s progress.”

She raises an eyebrow, her fake smile stretching wide enough to make me uncomfortable.

“Yes, and she still has plenty to learn,” I reply. Hoping she'd reconsider.

“With her current grades and the recommendation letter she’s earned, she could get into any university of her choice.” Her smile fades into a more serious expression. “From now on, no more extra lessons. Understood?”

The room feels too small, the air too thick. I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. This conversation isn’t ending well, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? If they’re taking her out of extra lessons, there’s nothing left for me to say.

Or is there?

As I turn to leave, something nags at the back of my mind. It’s like a whisper I can’t quite catch. Why did Celeste lock herself in her room? Was it because I rejected her gift?

And most importantly—why do I get the feeling that whatever’s bothering her is just beginning to unravel? Maybe ending the extra lesson would be best for now.