My phone vibrated again.
Once.
Twice.
I still didn't open the message.
The door stood half-open, night air drifting in, carrying the distant noise of generators and passing cars. Keisha stood just outside, her bag slung over her shoulder, her face tight with worry. Behind me, my aunt's presence filled the living room like a storm cloud—silent, heavy, waiting.
"Octavia," my aunt said slowly, "close that door."
I didn't move.
"Please," Keisha whispered. "It's okay."
I turned to her. The porch light cast shadows on her face, making her look tired in a way that hurt to see. She was trying to be brave for me. Trying to make herself smaller so I wouldn't have to choose.
That hurt more than anything else.
"I'll call you," I said quietly.
She nodded. "I know."
For a moment, I thought she might hug me. Or kiss my cheek. Or say something that would make this easier.
She didn't.
She just turned and walked down the steps, disappearing into the dark.
I closed the door.
The click echoed like a gunshot.
My aunt exhaled sharply. "Sit down."
I obeyed this time, my legs suddenly weak. My heart was still racing, my head buzzing—not just from the weed, but from everything crashing down at once.
"This nonsense," she began, pacing the living room, "did not start today."
I said nothing.
"You have been acting strange for weeks," she continued. "Your grandmother mentioned it. Coming home late. Not answering calls. And now this."
She stopped walking and turned to face me fully. "Where is Amanda?"
The name hit me like a slap.
Amanda.
My chest tightened.
"What?" I asked.
"Amanda," she repeated sharply. "Your grandmother's helper. The girl who is usually here. Where was she when all this rubbish was happening?"
I swallowed.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
My aunt frowned. "You don't know?"
"She wasn't with me," I added quickly.
That only seemed to irritate her more.
"So she left you alone to turn this house into a nightclub?" she snapped.
Before I could answer, she turned and headed toward the staircase.
My stomach dropped.
"Auntie—" I started.
"Stay where you are," she ordered.
I sat frozen as her footsteps climbed the stairs, each step heavy, deliberate. My thoughts raced. Amanda hadn't been downstairs. I hadn't even seen her since earlier. And Kemi—
Kemi.
The house felt strangely quiet after the storm downstairs. Music was off, the guests long gone, and the tension from what had just happened with Keisha still sat heavy in my chest. My phone vibrated again. Another message from Grandma. I hadn't opened it. Not yet. I wasn't ready.
Then I heard it—the stomping of heavy footsteps upstairs. My stomach sank. The aunt, still seething from what she'd found with Keisha and me, was back, her presence like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate.
The bedroom door opened with a hard thud before I reached the top of the stairs.
Inside, Amanda was sitting upright on the bed, hair messy, eyes wide, fully dressed, frozen with fear. Kemi sat beside her, leaning against the headboard, also fully dressed, blinking sleepily. Neither had been doing anything—just… sleeping.
Recognition flashed across my aunt's face immediately. "Amanda?"
Amanda's body stiffened. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "Y-yes… ma…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling.
"You're your grandmother's helper," my aunt said sharply. "I know who you are. But tell me—how did this chaos happen under your watch?"
Amanda's throat moved as she swallowed. "I—I… I didn't know it would get… I—I tried to—" Her voice cracked. "I didn't mean for anyone to… I wasn't—"
"Exactly what?" my aunt demanded, stepping closer. "You were supposed to help supervise this house. To make sure nothing got out of hand. And yet…" Her gaze swept the room, taking in the overturned chairs, the lingering smoke, the faint smell of alcohol. "…here we are."
Amanda flinched. Her words faltered, broken, stuttering, as if the weight of the situation had pinned her to the bed.
Kemi shifted slightly, sitting up straighter, eyes sharp and confident. "It was my idea," she said, calm and deliberate. "I planned the party."
Amanda blinked, relief flickering across her face.
"I invited the guests, organized the drinks, suggested the music," Kemi continued. "Amanda didn't plan any of this. She didn't even know most of the people coming."
The aunt's sharp gaze turned fully to Kemi. "And you?"
"I'm Octavia's classmate," Kemi said smoothly. "The party was my plan. I take full responsibility for what happened."
Amanda let out a shaky breath, relief visible in her posture. She sank slightly into the mattress, clearly grateful someone else was taking charge.
The aunt's jaw tightened. "You planned this?"
"Yes," Kemi said simply. "I miscalculated. I didn't think it would get this out of hand."
Her gaze flicked between Amanda, Kemi, and me. "And you—" she said, nodding at Amanda. "You knew about the house, your responsibilities. Why didn't you intervene?"
"I… I didn't know how," Amanda stammered. "I thought… I thought someone else would stop it… I didn't…"
"You were supposed to prevent this!" the aunt snapped.
Amanda lowered her head, clutching the blanket around her legs.
Kemi leaned slightly forward. "She's telling the truth," she said firmly. "Amanda didn't organize anything. She didn't invite anyone. She's not to blame."
Amanda exhaled shakily, still trembling.
The aunt's eyes softened slightly—not entirely, but enough to show she was processing. "Fine," she said. "You're both lucky this isn't worse. But know this: there will be consequences. And you will clean this mess. Every trace."
"Yes, ma," Kemi said, unshaken.
Amanda whispered, "I… I can do that."
I glanced at my phone again. Another message from Grandma. I didn't open it. My thumb hovered over the screen, but I couldn't face it yet.
The aunt finally turned to me, her gaze sharp. "Octavia. And you—what role did you play in all this?"
"I didn't plan it," I said softly. "I didn't invite anyone. I just… let it happen."
She studied me, lips pressed into a thin line. "Let it happen. That's all?"
"Yes," I murmured.
The aunt shook her head slowly. "Your grandmother will hear about this. And when she does… you will answer for it."
My phone buzzed again—another message from Grandma. My chest tightened. I still didn't open it.
Amanda's wide eyes met mine across the room. Fear, and something else familiar, flickered there—a reminder of everything we had shared before things got complicated. My heart clenched.
Kemi, noticing my tension, whispered softly: "Octavia… breathe. It's okay."
I nodded, but the buzzing in my pocket made it impossible to relax.
The aunt gave one final look at all of us—Amanda, Kemi, and me—before heading back downstairs. "Everything will be discussed when your grandmother returns. I suggest you prepare yourselves."
The room fell silent. Amanda sank further against the bed, still trembling. Kemi remained composed, but her eyes flicked to me briefly, silently acknowledging the storm we were in.
I glanced at my phone once more. Another message from Grandma. Still unopened.
The night pressed close around us, heavy and suffocating.
And for the first time that night, I realized: we weren't just dealing with a party anymore. The consequences had only just begun.