The sun was barely up when the compound on the girls’ side stirred to life. Seline, notebook and camera slung over her shoulder, was already jotting down first impressions for her journalism class: the nervous laughter, the shouts from dorm windows, the echo of suitcases rolling across and chatter of girls spilling at the bus park, jerseys peeking out beneath their sweaters, each carrying their own mix of nerves and excitement. For once, even Naomi’s usual sternness was softened by the prospect of competition.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa2fq7aIsiL
The city was still half-asleep when Seline slipped out of her dorm, camera bag bumping against her hip. She paused at the gate, breathing in the cool Kisumu air, she needed to capture the day from the very start for her journalism class, but she also wanted to avoid the awkwardness of picking a seat when the others arrived. She snapped photos of the empty bus and the misty school streets, jotting down notes about the anticipation in the air. The school bus waited, empty and idling, headlights slicing through the mist. Seline liked being early; it meant she could choose her vantage point—front row, window seat, notebook open, ready to catch the day’s first stories. 23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4NoNMh1bXe
She watched as the first clusters of girls trickled out—some dragging their feet, others bursting with energy. Naomi, clipboard in hand, already directing traffic like a general; Mercy, a solitary figure in the distance, shoulders set against the world; Kim, pausing at the edge of the crowd, scanning for familiar faces but not quite joining them.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqRXHu748sT
Seline felt the familiar thrill of being both inside and outside the story. She was one of them, yes, but her camera and notebook gave her a kind of armor, a reason to observe rather than participate. She caught snippets of conversation—hopes for victory, worries about rival teams, whispers about who would sit with whom. She noted the tension in Mary’s voice as she greeted June, the way Shiko hovered at the edge of every group, the tightness in Kim’s smile.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOvzo7eNLGU
The bus filled slowly, the morning light growing brighter as the city woke up around them. Seline kept her camera ready, catching candid shots—the flash of nerves in a teammate’s eyes, the way Naomi’s hand trembled just once as she checked her list, the way Mercy’s cronies now growing everyday in number shielded her from the world. She wondered, as she often did, what stories would unfold today—on the field and off it, in the spaces between cheers and silences, in the glances traded across the aisle.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYbnX7dOTMi
As the driver called for everyone to board, Seline took one last photo of the compound—empty now, save for a few latecomers rushing with untied shoelaces and half-zipped bags. She slid into her chosen seat, notebook open, heart beating a little faster. Today, she would be both witness and participant, chronicler and competitor. And she had a feeling that whatever happened at St. Mary’s Yala, the real story would be found not just in the matches, but in the secrets and shifting alliances that traveled with them, mile by mile, across the waking countryside.
23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXFPUkM3Q18
Kim found Shiko waiting under the jacaranda tree, the petals dusting her shoulders like confetti. The city air was cool, the school grounds still quiet except for distant laughter and the rumble of the bus engine. Shiko grinned when she saw Kim, relief flickering in her eyes.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDfuz3MHE01
“Thought you’d chicken out,” Shiko teased, nudging Kim with her elbow.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHMbjIV5lFP
Kim rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest eased. “You wish.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyFRyQQfkWc
They walked side by side to the bus park, weaving through clusters of girls—some still half-asleep, others already buzzing with nervous energy. Shiko carried both their kits, Kim her water bottle and a battered notebook. For a moment, it felt like old times: just the two of them against the world.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0IH6n9bITy
As they reached the bus, Seline was already snapping photos, and Naomi was ticking off names on her clipboard. Kim and Shiko exchanged a glance—one that said, Let’s stick together—and climbed aboard, sliding into a double seat near the middle. Shiko took the window, Kim the aisle, their bags piled between them like a small fortress.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQvpuTCCgNV
Around them, the bus slowly filled: Mary and June sat a few rows back, whispering; Mercy claimed her solitary spot at the rear; Naomi remained at the front, her posture rigid. The hum of voices grew, but Kim and Shiko found their own quiet bubble, sharing gossip and trading predictions about the day’s matches not just in the field.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0ipQNSkY6m
Shiko leaned her head against the glass, watching the mist blur the city as the bus pulled away. “Whatever happens today,” she murmured, “we’re in this together, right?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZbU5ZXJoU7
Kim nodded, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Always.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhZkUHUQkgC
As Kisumu faded behind them and the green fields of Siaya County rolled into view, Kim felt the old comfort settle in. Whatever secrets or rivalries waited at St. Mary’s, she and Shiko would face them side by side.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4LWU9MjOLn
Mercy moved through the morning shadows with her usual steady stride, the dew on the grass soaking the edges of her shoes. She didn’t hurry—she never did—but she was keenly aware of the cluster of girls trailing a few paces behind her. They weren’t friends, not really. Most had never spoken to her before her return, but now they hovered in her orbit: some out of awe, others out of curiosity, and a few, Mercy suspected, simply to be seen near the girl whose name was still whispered in both admiration and warning.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmmyK5BNGyt
She didn’t encourage them, but she hadn’t told them to stop either. Maybe she was curious what they wanted. Maybe she just didn’t have the energy to push them away.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeZd2i2h8cJ
At the bus park, the others were already forming their alliances—Kim and Shiko together, Seline with her camera, Mary and June deep in conversation, Naomi at the front. Mercy felt the familiar ache of being apart from all of it, but she kept her face unreadable. The small group behind her hesitated, then clustered near the steps, watching to see where she would sit.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo1wddtiRbZ
Mercy climbed onto the bus without a word, taking her usual seat at the very back. She could feel the eyes of her shadow group on her, the way they filled the seats nearby but left a respectful gap, as if unsure whether they were welcome or simply tolerated. The seat beside her stayed empty, but the row in front filled with nervous, eager faces.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBqsDydgomy
She watched the others through the window, the bus filling with laughter and tension, alliances and old wounds. The city outside was waking up, but inside, Mercy felt the press of expectation—her own and everyone else’s. She catalogued every detail: Naomi’s tight grip on her clipboard, Kim’s forced smile, the way Mary and June kept glancing back, and the way her own group of followers whispered among themselves.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGCC5tlk1T9
As she sat, the girls jostled for seats nearby, their excitement bubbling over. One, a Form One with braids and a quick smile, grinned at her. “Mercy, is it true you scored the winning goal against St. Anne’s last year with your eyes closed?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPGEMdhJemG
Mercy snorted. “Eyes closed? Please. I was practically asleep. You should have seen the keeper’s face—she thought I was aiming for the corner flag.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvpIyWsEwl
The girls burst into laughter, and another piped up, “What about the time you convinced the ref to give us a penalty just by raising your eyebrow?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi0cajyEitp
Mercy raised both eyebrows now, mock-serious. “That’s classified Order business. If I told you, I’d have to recruit you—and trust me, the initiation involves eating Naomi’s mystery stew for a week.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEzQf2cQZsv
Even the girls who’d been nervous before were giggling now. Mercy let herself relax, making up wild stories about past matches, exaggerating her own legend with every retelling. She mimed a dramatic dive, had them in stitches over her impersonation of the strictest prefect, and even teased one of her “fans” for bringing a lucky sock that looked suspiciously like a hand-me-down from her brother.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZBhiHXtcaO
For a few minutes, Mercy felt almost happy—her laughter real, her confidence infectious. She knew some of these girls admired her for reasons she couldn’t control, and others were just drawn to the myth. But here, in the noisy warmth of the bus, she let herself enjoy it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOYJvaUw3yV
As the bus rumbled out of Kisumu, Mercy caught her own reflection in the window: smiling, animated, surrounded by laughter. The tension of her return, the weight of suspicion, faded for a moment. She winked at the girls. “Stick with me today. If we lose, at least we’ll have the best stories to tell.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZjvTHfzEKu
Mercy leaned her forehead against the cool glass, letting the vibration of the bus drown out the chatter behind her. She was used to being alone, but she couldn’t quite ignore the presence of the girls who now shadowed her every move. She didn’t trust their motives, but she was curious how long they’d last—and what they’d do if she ever let them get close.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGvopZTdJJm
As the bus rolled out through the school gates, Mercy allowed herself a small, private smile. Let them whisper, let them wonder. She was back—and whether she liked it or not, she was never truly alone anymore.
**********23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiBESmTNb9b
The boys’ compound was a hive of activity before dawn, the air thick with anticipation and the sharp scent of grass. Jabari was up early, but not out of nerves about the girls’ team—everyone knew the real threat today was Maseno, Kisumu Day, and Sawagongo. Those schools played hard, and their reputations were legendary. Jabari and Juma swapped predictions as they hurried through breakfast, debating which rival would be the toughest to break down.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpFKXyP5Mwb
Juma, always the schemer, was less worried about the pitch and more about the adventure. “You know Sinyolo and Ng’iya girls will be there too, right?” he said, nudging Jabari as they loaded their kits onto the bus. “Rangala, even. Forget Kisumu Girls for a minute—there’ll be letters flying everywhere.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNUnsK7lA8z
Their friends laughed, pockets already stuffed with folded notes and half-written phone numbers. Some boys had even ironed their shirts extra crisp, just in case. The prefects called for order, but the excitement was impossible to contain.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkb3BZhsz6U
By 6:30, the bus was filling fast, boys jostling for the best seats—window spots for those who wanted to scan the road, back rows for the jokers and the note-passing strategists. Jabari and Juma settled in the middle, close to the action but with a clear view of the aisle.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8bPTLD5Dkb
As the bus rumbled out of Kisumu, the city slowly giving way to green fields and the open road to Siaya, the boys’ chatter turned to bets. “First one to spot the girls’ bus gets a soda at Yala,” someone called. “If we catch up, let’s get our driver to race them!”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNhBRBhTyp3
Juma grinned, already plotting. “If we see them, I’m waving my tie out the window. See who waves back.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1iJKAHSup4
The highway was busy with school buses—some painted with the names of their institutions, others just marked by the clusters of uniforms inside. Every time they passed a bus, the boys craned their necks, looking for familiar faces, searching for a glimpse of the girls’ team or a rival squad.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2yM3pyVcX7
When, just outside Chulaimbo, the unmistakable blue-and-white bus from the girls’ school appeared ahead, a cheer went up. “There they are!” Jabari shouted, and half the bus pressed to the windows. Juma and a few others started chanting, egging the driver on. The prefects pretended to scold, but even they were smiling as the boys’ bus edged closer, horns blaring in friendly challenge.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWIxRS0X1uI
For a few minutes, the whole bus was united—rivalries forgotten, worries about Maseno and Kisumu Day set aside. It was just them, the open road, and the thrill of the chase, with the promise of new stories and maybe, just maybe, a secret letter slipped across the aisle at St. Mary’s.
**********23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNI7yfkvfP0
The annual St. Mary’s Inter-School Games were the crown jewel of the region’s secondary school calendar—a rare convergence where boundaries faded, if only for a weekend. St. Mary’s Yala, perched in the rolling green heart of Siaya County, played host to a parade of buses from every direction: Kisumu City, Maseno, Kisumu Day, Sawagongo, Sinyolo Girls, Ng’iya Girls, Rangala, and more. Each bus carried its own legends, ambitions, and whispered stories.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3xP2zwLwEB
Gone were the usual barriers—no wall, no forbidden zones—just the open, manicured fields of St. Mary’s, watched over by the sharp eyes of teachers and prefects. Here, rivals and allies mingled in the same dorm blocks, ate from the same canteen, and sized each other up in the corridors. For a few days, the rules of home didn’t apply; new alliances could be forged, old grudges reignited, and reputations made or broken in a single match.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQgJuc7eE4r
For the students, these games were more than just a contest of skill. They were a stage for pride, for school spirit, for the chance to impress and be noticed—whether by scouts, by peers, or by the girls and boys from other schools who watched from the sidelines. The air was thick with anticipation: who would win the trophies, who would leave with new friends or secret crushes, and who might get caught up in the drama that always seemed to find a way into the shadows of the Games.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0DBfwRQb1
As the sun rose over St. Mary’s, the fields sparkled with dew and possibility. The prefects ran through their checklists, the teams huddled for last-minute strategy, and the corridors buzzed with talk of rivals and rumors.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvzWuOuleoh
The football fields at were alive with noise—referees’ whistles, rival chants, and the thud of balls echoing across the compound. Jabari’s mind was on the real threats: Maseno’s midfield, strikers and their relentless defense. He barely noticed the girls’ matches on the adjacent pitch, except for the occasional cheer that rose above the din. The match was already fierce, the noise from the stands a blur of rival chants and whistles23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8KMRIpu0Gq
But during a lull between games, as teams swapped fields and the crowd shifted, Jabari found himself at the water station—face to face with Kim. He recognized her instantly. She was the one who’d quietly outmaneuvered Mercy last term, the strategist whose name had come up in Order meetings. He’d even tried, once, to get her recruited—her cleverness, her nerve—but the timing had been wrong, and the Order was still reeling from the fallout.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE4sAOvlPFy
Kim, meanwhile, only saw a tall boy with an easy smile, sweat-dark hair, and a confidence that suggested he was more than just another player. She didn’t know his name or his role in the boys’ secret world. To her, he was just another face in the crowd.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWHJWw73KVL
Their eyes met over the rim of a shared water jug. Jabari felt a jolt of recognition—admiration, curiosity, something more. He offered a quick, genuine smile. “Tough match?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJZmWifgnx1
Kim nodded, catching her breath. “You have no idea.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKxsK8IhbFC
For a moment, the chaos of the games faded. Jabari wanted to say more—to ask about her game, to hint that he knew who she was and what she’d done. But he held back, letting the moment linger, letting Kim see only the surface.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS1dEQvdFa1
She smiled back, a little shy, a little intrigued. “Good luck in your next one.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4spBC1B1si
“You too,” Jabari replied, watching her go. He wondered, as he watched her disappear into the crowd, what might have happened if she’d joined the Order—if they’d been on the same side from the start.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBcwsehxOg4
Kim didn’t look back, but Jabari knew he’d remember this meeting long after the final whistle blew.
23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBbcBSPfPd0
**********23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡugk8UkwnaT
That’s when he saw her.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXjqYXQcLLG
Kim.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEpE8phK4he
Juma lingered a few steps back as Jabari and Kim exchanged their first words by the water station. He’d seen Jabari focused before—on tactics, on rivals, on the hidden currents of the Order—but this was something else. There was a softness in Jabari’s voice, a lightness in his posture that Juma hadn’t seen in a long time.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSBPi4TfXEU
She looked the same and yet not. Braids pulled back, a bit of dust on her track pants, a flicker of fire behind the calm in her eyes. She wasn’t laughing like the other girls. She was scanning. Reading the terrain. Still playing chess while everyone else played football.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCssY3zJpPV
Juma’s heart stuttered. Not just because of how she looked, but because of what he remembered—the folded letter she’d sent, the trembling answer he’d written back. The questions she asked. The honesty he couldn’t give. Her name written in ink, KN-9, etched into a file he’d never meant her to see.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrEe4t4Vbib
He hadn’t responded since.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdJfP3R0AgF
He told himself it was safer that way.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbgMt42HP0B
But now here she was. And then—he was there too.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv9rvBeVqAg
Jabari.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUKuTOT1PtM
Tall. Steady. Smiling like he owned the field and maybe the sun, too.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIdm3qF8kDL
Juma watched, a stone forming behind his ribs.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvszfjj1Ac
Jabari had always been good with people. The kind of charisma that needed no badge to command attention. If he smiled at you, you felt seen. If he listened, you felt important. He used it sparingly—but when he did, it landed.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaaQLdz2jDt
And now, he was using it on Kim.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡewHJOkli0X
Juma watched their exchange by the water station. The brief smile. The eye contact. Jabari’s easy charm and Kim’s small, curious reply.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgTRyECSemt
It wasn’t a long moment.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ23WSFN9Vo
But it was long enough.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKR4nXTUbxy
Long enough for Juma to feel the sharp twist of something ugly rise in his throat. Regret, maybe. Jealousy, definitely. The sudden realization that all his careful silence had left a vacuum—and Jabari, unknowing or not, was stepping into it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeiPr9QhVCL
He clenched his jaw. Turned away.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDFwUNcaR87
He told himself it was nothing. Just a conversation. Just a passing moment in the middle of a crowded event. It didn’t mean anything.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7w7ooI78Im
But he knew better.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxYpxSGXWES
He’d read her letters. The way she asked questions no one else dared ask. The way her words reached out—not to accuse, but to understand. She had wanted to know him, even when it might cost her.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMlvro7zs6Q
And he—he had chosen to stay hidden.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnOgtk6MIs1
Now she was standing in the sun, talking to someone who didn’t hide.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJN9Os4TNP1
Juma stepped further into the shade, watching the crowd shift like tide around her, like she was the center without knowing it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm85HqvWiyo
He told himself the game mattered more.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFv3W1KXJO1
But as she walked away, not once looking in his direction, Juma couldn’t shake the truth that had been growing inside him ever since he read her first note:23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡabHtMylV3V
She saw him once.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR5oRkhLCWm
And if he waited too long, she might stop looking altogether.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgf8pXt5kHJ
Seline had spent the day shadowing Juma, waiting for the right moment to talk. She told herself it was for the story, for the truth behind the tangled alliances and shifting loyalties that seemed to swirl around the games. But really, it was Juma himself she was drawn to—the way he moved through the crowd, always half in shadow, always watching, always just out of reach.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJaM4zdngPH
She finally caught up to him as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the field. Juma was standing alone, his eyes fixed not on the pitch, but on Kim and Jabari by the water station. There was something in his posture—a tension, a longing—that made Seline’s chest tighten. She’d seen that look before, but never directed at her.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡufR9IBGoaL
She stepped closer, her voice quiet but edged with hurt. “You’re still chasing her, aren’t you?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTwdWmrlZHF
Juma startled, turning to face her. “Seline—”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeOeyVze4iY
She shook her head, frustration bubbling up. “After everything, after all the times you nearly got caught helping her out last term… You still can’t let her go?”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFyJ0PezcJU
Juma looked away, silent. Seline felt the sting of it—of being invisible, of watching him pour all his secrets and risks into someone who never seemed to notice. She knew Jabari, at least by reputation—the KB president, the one who’d charmed the entire journalism club last year when they’d helped edit the boys’ annual magazine. She remembered how he’d lingered by the editing tables, always with a joke, always with a smile that made the room feel lighter. She’d thought, maybe, she understood him. She’d thought, maybe, he’d noticed her too. She hated the way Juma would linger a stare long enough, always watching Kim, always waiting for something Seline could never quite give him.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK5KVCInv9H
What hurt most was the suspicion that Kim had lied to her, too. She’d trusted Kim, believed her stories, even defended her when others doubted. But now, seeing the way Kim looked at Jabari, Seline was convinced—Kim had been hiding something all along. And Juma, for all his loyalty, was still caught in her orbit.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡosYyaYdWrq
Seline’s voice softened, almost pleading. “You deserve better, Juma. She’s not the only one who cares about you.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO7eFz6CN6K
He didn’t answer, and Seline felt her hope flicker. She couldn’t let Kim take everything—not Juma, not the truth, not the chance for something real.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdLClyYMxb4
She turned away, notebook pressed to her chest, determined to find her own answers. If Kim thought she could have it all—Juma’s loyalty, Jabari’s attention, the secrets and the spotlight—Seline was ready to fight for what mattered to her, no matter the cost.
**********23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzhWUnQDjY4
Mercy watched from the edge of the crowd, fists clenched, jaw tight. She told herself she didn’t care what Kim did anymore—that after last term, after all the favors twisted into traps and every secret friendship used as a stepping stone, she was done with Kim’s games. But the truth was, the hurt still burned. Kim had wormed her way in, borrowed Mercy’s trust, and then used it to bring her down. Mercy still remembered the sting of humiliation, the way everyone had looked at her when the rumors broke—like she was the fool, like she’d handed Kim the knife and begged her to use it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡarpVrEJObk
But this—this was worse.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNzSf9SAOzL
Kim, laughing by the water station, sunlight catching on her braids. Jabari beside her, smiling that easy, open smile Mercy had once thought was meant for her alone. How dare she? How dare Kim even think about it, after everything she’d done? Mercy felt something sour rise in her throat, a mix of rage and something dangerously close to heartbreak.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkSAAGIXH75
Jabari was supposed to be hers. He’d listened when no one else did, seen her for more than just her reputation. He’d been there in the aftermath, when everyone else turned away. And now Kim—Kim, who had already taken so much—was standing there, talking to him like she had every right.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbl2yRXn1pa
Mercy’s vision blurred with fury. She wanted to march over, to tear Kim away and demand an explanation, to shout the truth so loud the whole field would stop and listen. But she didn’t move. She just watched, nails digging crescents into her palms, promising herself that Kim wouldn’t get away with it this time. She wouldn’t let her.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaAa0FEKc7w
Not with Jabari. Not again.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfd2VrEu8tk
Mercy watched from the edge of the crowd, fists clenched, jaw tight. She told herself she didn’t care what Kim did anymore—that after last term, after all the favors twisted into traps and every secret friendship used as a stepping stone, she was done with Kim’s games. But the truth was, the hurt still burned. Kim had wormed her way in, borrowed Mercy’s trust, and then used it to bring her down. Mercy still remembered the sting of humiliation, the way everyone had looked at her when the rumors broke—like she was the fool, like she’d handed Kim the knife and begged her to use it.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrxrFQJieyw
But this—this was worse.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQnEJeFuuSa
Kim, laughing by the water station, sunlight catching on her braids. Jabari beside her, smiling that easy, open smile Mercy had once thought was meant for her alone. How dare she? How dare Kim even think about it, after everything she’d done? Mercy felt something sour rise in her throat, a mix of rage and something dangerously close to heartbreak.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV0FFkNv4lf
Jabari was supposed to be hers. He’d listened when no one else did, seen her for more than just her reputation. He’d been there in the aftermath, when everyone else turned away. And now Kim—Kim, who had already taken so much—was standing there, talking to him like she had every right.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAU7EnCAwMg
Mercy’s vision blurred with fury. She wanted to march over, to tear Kim away and demand an explanation, to shout the truth so loud the whole field would stop and listen. But she didn’t move. She just watched, nails digging crescents into her palms, promising herself that Kim wouldn’t get away with it this time. She wouldn’t let her.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIvwnX4AusL
Not with Jabari. Not again.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy7SgUyj0Wb
Everyone knew Jabari was Mercy’s boyfriend. It was one of those facts that didn’t need to be spoken, like the color of the school gates or the time the bell rang for lunch. Since time immemorial, no one got close to Jabari—not in that way. Not unless they wanted to feel Mercy’s wrath, or worse, the silent freeze that followed. Mercy’s claim was legendary, and the girls respected it. Even the boys did.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeMBK1RIxnc
So Naomi couldn’t believe what she was seeing now, just a week after Mercy’s dramatic return. Kim—quiet, calculating Kim—standing by the water station, talking to Jabari. Not just talking, but laughing, her eyes bright, her body language open. And Jabari, usually reserved, was smiling back, like he didn’t know the rules. Like he didn’t care.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb1QSyLdJkW
Naomi’s mind raced. Was Kim really that stupid? Was she openly challenging Mercy, right in front of everyone, or was she just oblivious to the unwritten laws that governed their world? Or—worse—was she rubbing it in? Was this her way of showing Mercy that she’d not only taken her power away last term, but now she could take her boyfriend too?23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLis6lEb1x4
The idea was almost unthinkable. Yet here they were, in the open, as if daring someone to say something.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡumzzHylewP
Naomi watched Kim closely, trying to read her. There was something magnetic about her—something that made Naomi’s skin prickle with a mix of dread and fascination. Was Kim just lucky, drifting through drama without consequence? Was she reckless, or was she playing a much higher game than any of them realized?23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡarCKzb8YeS
For the first time, Naomi felt a flicker of respect—and a surge of wariness. Kim was either about to make the biggest mistake of her life, or she was rewriting the rules in real time. And Naomi, who prided herself on understanding every angle, suddenly realized she had no idea which it was.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZuOzWga2WK
She made a mental note to watch Kim even more closely. Because if Kim was bold enough to go after Jabari, she might be bold enough to do anything.
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The whistle’s shriek split the heavy afternoon air above St. Mary’s pitch, but the sound was lost beneath the roar of the crowd. The final between Kisumu Boys and Kisumu Day had been tense from the first kick, every pass and tackle crackling with the weight of old rivalries and the invisible pressure of reputation. But now, with the score level and minutes ticking away, the game teetered on a knife’s edge.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRBqDwCmHul
It happened so fast it seemed almost inevitable—a Kisumu Day midfielder, shoulders hunched and eyes burning, lunged for the ball. His studs caught the ankle of Kisumu Boys’ captain with a force too deliberate to be dismissed as clumsy. The captain crumpled, clutching his leg, and the pitch seemed to hold its breath for a heartbeat.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBET15fn6Nu
Then chaos erupted.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ97MPQBiYRn
Players swarmed, shoving and shouting, arms thrown wide in accusation. “That was no accident!” someone yelled, the words swallowed by a wave of jeers and boos. Kisumu Day’s defenders rushed to their teammate’s side, faces set in defiance, while Kisumu Boys’ forwards surged forward, fists clenched and voices rising. The referee, whistle still pressed to his lips, was lost in the crush, his authority dissolving in the sea of bodies.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUZbB3xqQ9K
In the stands, the tension snapped. Students from both schools surged to the railings, some climbing onto benches for a better view, others pressing forward as if the boundary between spectator and participant had vanished. Teachers and prefects scrambled to form a barrier, arms outstretched, but the line was thin and wavering.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6SUp8NyDFl
For a moment, it seemed the wall that had always divided Kisumu’s schools—visible or invisible—had shifted here, to the edge of the pitch. Old wounds, whispered rumors, and the pressure to defend honor all collided in the space between the players. The air was thick with dust and adrenaline, the threat of something irreparable hanging just out of reach.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbx4ETp8mNX
And then, as suddenly as it began, the surge faltered. Security moved in, separating the players, shepherding the crowd back. The referee, pale but resolute, brandished a red card. The Kisumu Day midfielder was sent off, his head bowed, the crowd’s fury trailing him like a shadow.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYp48qmdYCv
But the damage was done. As the game resumed, the memory of the near-brawl lingered—a crack in the foundation, a reminder that beneath every rule and boundary, old resentments and secret alliances still simmered, waiting for their moment to break free.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLKzyffR9i5
The rivalry between Kisumu Boys and Kisumu Day was never just about football or bragging rights. It was a rivalry forged in the shadow of the Berlin Wall—the stone and silence that separated Kisumu Boys from Kisumu Girls, and by extension, from the rest of the city’s schools.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVIigLJzxBh
Kisumu Boys, perched right next to Kisumu girls’ school, always seemed to have an unspoken advantage. Their proximity bred a familiarity—shared glances at the wall, secret notes slipped through cracks, the thrill of forbidden communication. For Kisumu Day, further removed and always on the outside looking in, this closeness was a constant source of resentment. It was as if Kisumu Boys stood guard at the gates of opportunity, while Kisumu Day was left to circle the perimeter, never quite part of the inner circle.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYJyynhfTRB
But the rivalry ran deeper still. Kisumu Boys’ academic performance was consistently better, their alumni more prominent, their name more respected in staff rooms and government offices. Kisumu Day students felt the sting of being “second best”—not just in the classroom, but in the city’s social hierarchy. Every exam result, every debate victory, every whispered rumor about a Kisumu Boys student and a Kisumu Girls prefect added fuel to the fire.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaO2eobalSz
The final match at St. Mary’s was more than a game. It was the inevitable collision of years of simmering tension. The pitch became a stage for old wounds and new ambitions, with the crowd sensing that this was more than just sport—it was a battle for respect, for recognition, for a chance to finally tip the balance. The energy was electric, the outcome a foregone conclusion: sooner or later, something had to give.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRrgAaICusZ
And so, when the match finally erupted in Siaya, it was not a surprise. The aggression on the field, the shouts from the stands, the surge of the crowd—all were the result of a rivalry that had been set in motion long before the first whistle. The wall between Kisumu Boys and Kisumu Girls had cast a long shadow, but it was the invisible wall between Kisumu Boys and Kisumu Day that now threatened to break.
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The bus rumbled away from St. Mary’s humming with the low, restless energy of girls coming down from the adrenaline of chaos. The bus rolled through the golden haze of late afternoon, carrying the Kisumu Girls back to the city, the match’s chaos still humming in their veins. But inside the bus, the real drama was quieter, woven into glances, laughter, and the silent calculations of hearts tangled in triangles.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlze11lMZib
Kim sat by the window, her cheek pressed to the glass, letting the coolness steady her racing thoughts. She watched the acacia trees flick pasts but her mind was with Juma—his lopsided grin, the way he’d found her in the crowd after the match, the gentle squeeze of his hand. She tried to replay his words, searching for certainty, her mind was a tangled mess of conflicting signals. Juma's touch on her hand after the near-brawl, the way his eyes held hers a moment too long – it had been a spark, a promise of something more. 23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDIcGEAZsjR
Seline sat rigid, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape, but her thoughts were a whirlpool of betrayal. She’d seen the way Juma looked at Kim—a possessive, hungry look that used to be reserved for her alone. And Kim? She hadn’t pushed him away, had even seemed to bask in the attention. Seline’s hurt hardened into a cold, sharp anger. She’d been a fool, clinging to the illusion of a shared understanding, a bond that apparently meant nothing to Kim. She glanced at Naomi, her sharp, assessing gaze and for a moment wondered about the prefect's involvement. Did Naomi know something about Juma and Kim, about the game she had been losing? She smiled to herself, the thought a new and welcome one, could it be that Naomi knew exactly how to play and win?23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9GIfKOSZGC
Further back, Mercy nursed a simmering resentment. Jabari had been all charm and congratulations after the match, but his eyes had lingered on Kim too long. Mercy knew Jabari was drawn to Kim’s quiet strength, her ability to navigate the school’s treacherous currents. But Mercy refused to be sidelined, to be reduced to a footnote in Jabari’s affections. She saw Kim as a rival in a game she didn’t even know she was playing. Mercy was determined to reclaim her territory, to remind Jabari that she was more than just a memory across the wall.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0aHSMW1xjA
Kim, oblivious to the simmering tensions around her, leaned closer to Shiko and whispered about the match, careful to avoid any mention of Jabari or Juma. Kim may not have sought to cause this strife but unknowingly had just sought out pandora’s box and if only she knew, sometimes it’s better to ignore the whispers inside the box.
Naomi, as always, watched everything, her expression unreadable. She saw the tension, the barely concealed anger in Mercy's eyes. Kim, as always, was the nexus, the center of a storm she seemed blissfully unaware of. Naomi wasn't interested in the petty dramas of crushes and jealousy. She saw something bigger, something more valuable.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxAimA0awQJ
And so the bus carried them onward, the engine’s hum masking the unspoken tensions that threatened to erupt at any moment. Each girl wrestled with her own desires, her own fears, her own secret alliances. The Berlin Wall awaited, but within the moving space of the bus was another wall, a barrier of longing, jealousy, and unspoken truths as solid and unyielding as the one that divided their world.
