The cab dropped them at Admiralty Way twelve minutes before noon, which in Lagos time meant they were practically early for next week. Frosh paid the driver while Faye checked her reflection in the side mirror for the third time since leaving the apartment. Kazeem was vibrating, literally, his knee bouncing as he stood on the curb, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack like it might float away if he let go.
"You calm down," Amara said to him, though her own voice was pitched higher than usual.
"I am calm," Kazeem said, which was a lie. He hadn't been calm since Shina's phone call.
Tunde walked ahead of them, the oldest, the slowest, and somehow the only one who looked like he belonged anywhere. He wore the same brown linen shirt he'd worn yesterday, and the same patience.
