Nia sat on the edge of her bunk, staring blankly at the neatly folded sheets on her bed. The common room meeting had ended, but her mind was still stuck there, replaying every syllable of the house prefect’s announcement. Socials.

Her stomach churned at the mere word. An event where boys from the partner school would come over? Where they would be expected to interact, play games, and, God forbid, hold conversations? How did the others seem so relaxed about it? She felt the world tilt as she struggled to process the new reality of her high school life.

Back in the cubicle, Emily, her godmother, had explained what socials were with an amused grin. Nia had nodded along, pretending to listen, but internally, she was spiraling.

“Truth or dare,” Emily had said, eyes twinkling. “Spin the bottle. Charades. Speed dating-friends edition. Just silly, fun stuff.” Fun. Nia doubted she and fun had ever met. Then Emily went on, laughing about how she’d once been dared to climb a tree and sing a song at the top of her lungs. The thought alone sent a wave of nausea rolling through Nia. What if, no, when she was put on the spot, what would she say?

Her mind whirred with questions she couldn’t answer. How was she supposed to talk to a boy? She had spent her entire primary school life in an all-girls institution, shielded from the mystery of socializing with the opposite sex. Would she have anything remotely intelligent to say? What if they asked something humiliating? A question about dating? A dare to do something utterly absurd?

She wanted to be part of it. She wanted to laugh, to play, to feel the thrill of connection. But the fear was suffocating. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t…the paradox of social anxiety.

The decision cemented itself in her mind like stone: she would not show up. She would not step into that common room. She would not put herself in a situation where her anxiety might crack her open for the world to see.

And just like fate had aligned itself in her favor, that very weekend was a visiting weekend. Her sister, Ann, arrived right on time, like an angel sent to rescue her from impending doom. Not because she understood Nia’s struggle, but because she loved her. Ann had always made time for her little sister, always showed up, always made the long trip just to see her. No one could question why she skipped socials.

The Night She Never Saw the Stars

Towards the end of the term, movie nights were legendary, the kind of event everyone talked about weeks in advance.

Nia heard the whispers in the dorm long before the night arrived.

“What should we wear?” “I hope they play a romance movie!” “Do you think the boys will sit with us?”

She listened in silence, pretending to be engrossed in folding her sweater. Her dormmates swapped outfit ideas and debated which movie would be screened, their excitement filling the air like static electricity.

Then, the moment she dreaded.

“Nia, you’re coming, right?”

The words barely landed before her thoughts took off. In that crowd? The buzz of conversation before the movie started. Laughter erupting at funny scenes. Casual nudges between seatmates, whispers, and bonding over the shared experience of a story playing out on screen.

She considered all the possibilities. If she went, where would she sit? Would she end up in the middle of a row, trapped between strangers? What if someone started a conversation, and she had to endure small talk? What if there was an interactive segment?

It was ridiculous, she told herself. It was just a movie. No one would be paying attention to her. And yet, the thought of stepping into that space, into that flood of voices and movement, felt too big, too impossible.

She needed an excuse.

“I don’t know, I have some revision to do.”

Her dormmate sighed dramatically. “Come on, it’s going to be fun! Everyone’s going.”

Nia just smiled, keeping her gaze low, waiting for the moment to pass. Her dormmate rolled her eyes and left, joining the others as they buzzed around, fixing their hair, slipping into their neat outfits.

As the dorm emptied, the excited chatter of girls trailed into the night as they made their way to the theatre, replaced by the familiar hum of silence.

Nia exhaled, the pressure was gone. She thought, for a moment, of how the open theatre must have looked under the stars, the open sky stretched above them, endless vast. Rows of students, the silver-blue glow of the screen illuminating their faces, the way their laughter carried through the air.

It must have been beautiful.

But she wouldn’t see it.

She never did.

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She had mastered the art of avoiding social interactions, but what would happen in performance situations where people expected something from her? There were no quiet exits and no easy excuses, just a watching, waiting crowd. Would she find ways to stay hidden, or would the fear ultimately push her too far? Discover the answer in Chapter 4.