TAMARA'S POV
"What's up? You've been staring too much since I came in," Savina stops writing and eyes me.
"Ah—I was just wondering where you're coming from."
That's a lie. Maybe I really want to know.
"Oh, I'm from Kisumu. You?" she smiles softly.
"What? Me too!" I say, surprised.
She leaves her mouth wide open, like I just told her a secret.
"Which part of Kisumu?" I ask.
"Migosi Estate," she says. "You?"
"Lolwe Estate," I blurt out, and immediately regret it.
Why did I lie? To sound rich? Do I want her to think I'm from a big estate?
"Oh, that's not far. Like a few minutes away if you take an Uber," she says.
"Yeah… our church is in Migosi," I add. At least that part's true.
"That's nice." She smiles again.
I smile back, but not for long. My eyes dart away.
"Anyway, you said you went to Arya School, right?" she asks.
"Yes…" I answer curiously. Why does she remember that? Maybe she's interested, hahaha.
"Tell me about your friends from there," she says, resting her head on the locker like she's ready for a good story.
I lean back, thinking. I had many friends at Arya… but suddenly I realize, none were really real.
Each had a purpose—one for stories, one for lunch, one for drama, one for crimes.
So which one should I tell her about?
I start laughing.
"Sorry," I say between giggles. "I just remembered something funny about my friend. Well, ex-friend, I think."
"What's funny? Why aren't you friends anymore?" Savina raises her brows.
"Okay… I had this friend named Ann. She was my deskmate."
I yawn, and she yawns too, laughing.
"Your yawn affected me," she says.
I chuckle back. "Anyway, it was our last month in school…"
---
[Flashback Begins]
The classroom buzzes with noise—bags closing, chairs screeching.
It's Friday evening. The bell for home just rang.
Ann sits on my left, Binot on my right.
Binot leans forward. "Ann, can I borrow one of your revision books for the weekend?"
Ann doesn't even look up. "No. I'll use them."
She's got like ten books piled high on her desk.
I sigh. "Ann, just give him one. He only needs to copy assignments. You've got plenty."
She glances at me sharply. "Why can't you give him yours?"
I sit upright. "Because I only have one, and I need it too! I already told him to copy from mine during the day."
Ann rolls her eyes. "I'll study how I want. Don't tell me what to do."
That stings. "You're so selfish," I snap. "You're an Adventist—you'll be in church the whole Saturday. You won't even open half those books!"
Her chair scrapes loudly. "Don't tell me how to live my life!"
I grab my bag. "Selfish girl," I mutter and start walking out.
She shouts behind me, "So what? It's my book! Don't control me!"
And that's when something inside me snaps.
I spin around. "Ann, stop talking to me or else—"
She cuts me. "Or else what?"
The next thing I know—I'm on top of her, fists flying, slapping her face while she screams my name.
"Tamara! Tamara stop!"
Desks rattle, chairs fall, until people pull us apart.
She cries, "I'll come with my dad on Monday!"
I freeze.
Her dad? Oh no.
That whole weekend I couldn't even eat. I kept waiting for the phone call that never came.
[Flashback Ends]
Savina is laughing hard, clapping her hands.
"Did she fight back?" she manages to say between giggles.
"No!" I laugh too. "She just covered her face and screamed my name."
"Did her dad come? Were you punished?"
"Nope. No dad, no punishment. We fought when most people had already gone home. Nobody told the deputy. But that weekend…" I shake my head. "It was the most stressful of my life."
We both laugh.
"I wish I was there to witness it," Savina says, wiping tears from her eyes.
"You'd have probably joined in," I tease.
She laughs again, that bright, reckless laugh of hers. "Maybe. I'm not scared of small fights."
"Yeah, I can see that," I say, rolling my eyes. "You've got that brave face."
We both giggle quietly, careful not to disturb the others — some pretending to read, some lost in their thoughts. The classroom feels softer now, almost alive. The evening light leans through the open windows, brushing across the desks. Outside, crickets sing their night songs, and the faint hum of laughter floats from the dorms.
Savina turns to me, her smile gentle. "You know, you don't look like someone who can fight."
"I know," I reply, grinning faintly. "I even shocked myself that day. Maybe I was just… tired of being nice."
She chuckles, low and warm. "Sometimes nice people have a limit."
Silence follows — not awkward, just quietly full. The soft rustle of papers fills the air. I steal a glance at her notebook. It's beautiful — neat handwriting, purple ink, and tiny hearts over her i's. Of course, she's that kind of girl — the one who makes ordinary things look poetic.
I tilt my head slightly. "You love writing?"
"Yeah," she says, eyes still fixed on the page. "This is my diary."
I smirk. "Can I see it?" I tease.
She looks up. Our eyes meet — just for a second, but the air shifts. Something flickers between us — curiosity? electricity? I don't know. But I feel it.
"Yeah, sure," she says suddenly, breaking the moment as she pushes the diary toward me.
I blink, caught off guard. "No, I was kidding," I say quickly, waving my hands. "I can't read your diary — that's private."
"You can read it," she insists, smiling. "It's not that kind of diary. It's more like... a notebook of everything. Thoughts, notes, random things."
She flips a few pages open, her fingers tracing the paper. "Look — here."
She points to a page filled with colorful drawings and soft cursive writing. The top is decorated with petals and hearts. It reads, 'Dear Bestie ❤️' — perfectly calligraphed, like art.
"I really miss her a lot," Savina says softly. "My best friend wrote that for me in primary school. Her name's Valentine. We were deskmates all through elementary, and we've stayed close ever since. She's like a sister to me."
Something in my chest tightens. I can't name it. It's not pain — not exactly. Not jealousy either. Just this strange ache that comes when someone's bond sounds so perfect it leaves you wishing you had it too.
"Aww, you're lucky to have her," I say, forcing a smile.
"Thanks," she murmurs.
The bell rings — Ding! Ding! — sharp and echoing through the walls. The room stirs to life, chairs scraping, books shutting, laughter bubbling again.
Savina closes her diary gently, her fingers brushing the cover like it's something sacred. "Guess prep's over," she says, standing.
"Yeah." I stretch my arms, my body heavy with that lazy kind of calm that only evening brings.
"But this was fun," she adds, glancing at me. "I haven't laughed like this in a while."
"Same," I reply, smiling faintly. "You're… easy to talk to."
She looks at me, surprised — and for a second, her smile softens. "You too, Tamara."
We both rise at the same time, our hands brushing lightly on the desk. The touch is brief but enough to send a quiet spark through me.
She laughs awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," I nod. "Tomorrow."
She turns to leave, her steps unhurried, her hair swaying with the rhythm of her walk. And I just stand there — still — watching.