"Form Four North and South-move now!
Time is not on your side!"
Miss Teresa Mwenda's voice cut through the upper hall like the school bell itself-sharp, steady, final.
Girls scrambled from the corridor, pulling their blazers straight and adjusting the straps of their weekend bags.
Outside, two long white buses had pulled into the gravel path in front of the main block.
Lettering gleamed on the sides in gold:
St. Andrew's Catholic Boys' School-Diocese of St. Raphael
St. Peter's Seminary- Parish of St. Michael
From the upper balcony, clusters of younger students-mostly Form Ones and Twos-pressed against the rails, faces lit with quiet excitement.
Giggling erupted when the first boy stepped off the bus, yawning wildly and rubbing his eyes like he'd just woken from a hundred-year sleep.
"That one came straight from his dreams!" someone whispered.
A few Form Threes laughed, ducking back from the railing.
But then the the air shifted.
Miss Emily stepped calmly onto the upper veranda, standing just beside the staff entrance. She said nothing-only looked. Her scarf moved slightly in the wind.
The laughter died down almost immediately. The younger girls disappeared back into the building like shadows.
At the foot of the stairs, Miss Teresa's voice rang again.
"Form Four-your bags downstairs, please! You are not tourists. The program begins in twenty minutes."
A few girls groaned under their breath, dragging suitcases down the narrow stairwell. The air was fresh, but the mood was sharp.
Today was not an ordinary day.
The hallway had thinned out. Footsteps and voices faded outside as most girls made their way toward the buses.
But in the dome, Jennifer was still there-kneeling beside her bunk, rushing.
She fumbled with the zip of her bag, tucking in a rolled-up towel and an extra pair of socks. The corner of her lotion bottle poked out awkwardly. She pushed it down.
The zipper fought back. She yanked it.
The room felt too quiet now. Everyone had moved.
She tossed in her journal, slapped the bag shut-and then froze.
Lavender.
That faint trace.
It lingered in the air for a second before the silence behind her was confirmed.
She didn't need to turn.
She knew.
Jennifer straightened slowly and turned over her shoulder.
Miss Emily stood near the doorway, scarf resting against her neck like always, fingers lightly folded in front of her.
She wasn't smiling But she wasn't cold, either. Just...still.
"By now," she said softly. "this should have been done yesterday evening."
Jennifer blinked once.
She opened her mouth. Closed it again.
Her fingers touched the edge of her bag, still trying to force the zip shut.
Miss Emily moved closer.
The lavender stayed.
Jennifer pulled the zip halfway, then it stuck again. Her fingers kept slipping. Her palm was already damp from rushing.
Then-
A hand.
Softly, without warning, Miss Emily reached down and brushed her hand against Jennifer's-not rough, not forceful, just there.
Jennifer stilled.
Their eyes met-only for a second.
No smile. No question. Only breath between them.
"Let me close it," Miss Emily said quietly.
Jennifer moved her hand away, slow, almost unsure.
Miss Emily took the zip, tugged it once, and it slid shut with a quiet sound.
Then nothing.
Only the bag, neatly closed.
And the air, heavy again.
Miss Emily's voice was gentle behind her.
"Hurry now, Jennifer. You'll miss the bus."
Jennifer nodded once but didn't look back. She grabbed her bag by the strap and rushed out of the dome, breath tight in her chest.
...
Down in the courtyard, the scene had shifted.
Two buses-St. Peter's Seminary and St. Andrew's Catholic Boys' School-were already parked beside each other, their doors sealed shut. You could still hear a laugh echoing from inside one of them.
To the right, one of Our Lady of Fatima's own buses had already been closed. Full. No room.
Only one bus remained open.
Jennifer picked up her pace.
At the base of the stairs, Miss Teresa stood waiting, arms folded, eyes already watching her approach.
"There. Get in," she said, nodding toward the last open bus.
"You're the only one left."
Jennifer climbed in quickly. The scent of dust, engine warmth, and voices pressed in all at once. Inside, every seat was filled. Some girls leaned together, some had their heads resting back, mid-conversation or quiet.
Only two seats left-just behind the driver.
Jennifer slid into the one by the window, hugging her bag to her chest, heart still thudding from the rush.
She had barely caught her breath when-
Footsteps on the steps.
Slow. Certain. Familiar.
Lavender.
Miss Emily entered.
She nodded briefly to Miss Teresa, then stepped forward.
Jennifer's fingers tightened on her bag.
Without a word, Miss Emily sat beside her-calm, composed. Their arms didn't touch, but the closeness folded the air between them.
The driver reached for the gear.
The door hissed shut.
The bus pulled forward.
Someone in the middle of the bus leaned forward and called out,
"Sir, can you play that song again-the one from last Sunday?"
The driver tilted his head.
"Which one?"
There was a pause.
Then-music.
"I am not the only traveler...
Who has not repaid his dept..."
Jennifer's breath caught.
She didn't turn to look at Miss Emily. She didn't have to.
The words sank in slowly, quiet and cold like water filling a basin.
"I had all and then most of you...
Some and now none of you..."
Jennifer blinked once, hard.
She didn't even know if she wanted Miss Emily anymore.
But something inside her still reached.
"Take me back to the night we met."
She held her breath. Miss Emily hadn't moved beside her-not a word. But she hadn't shifted away either.
Jennifer closed her eyes.
The road stretched endlessly beneath the tires, a soft hum rising and falling with the dry earth. The girls had grown quieter now, the excitement melting into a sleepy stillness.
Jennifer hadn't spoken since the song ended. She held her water bottle in both hands but hadn't taken a sip in minutes.
Her thoughts kept pulling in strange directions-not loud, but constant . Like soft rain dripping from a roof.
She didn't understand herself anymore. One moment, she hated Miss Emily-the way she stayed silent, the way she looked at Maria like that, the way she didn't explain anything.
And yet...even now...sitting this close, Jennifer's heart still hadn't calmed.
"Why do I still want to be near her?"
It wasn't even about love. Or anger. Or anything with a name.
It was something else.
Something in her skin.
Something in her chest.
Like that night-the one she couldn't remember properly.
The one her mind had blocked out.
But her body hadn't forgotten.
She remembered the stillness. The heat. The way she felt afterward-shaken, breathless, trembling inside.
She didn't know what it meant.
She only knew that right now, beside Miss Emily, it was hard to think of anything else.
Her fingers loosened slightly on the bottle.
Her eyes blinked slower now.
Then, without realizing, her head leaned sideways...
And rested gently on Miss Emily's shoulder.
Miss Emily didn't shift.
She didn't speak.
Just slowly, quietly, she adjusted her scarf-the soft fabric falling slightly to cover Jennifer's cheek, shielding her from the sun's glare through the window.
She didn't pull away.
She just sat still, letting Jennifer stay.
And Jennifer, even in sleep, felt the warmth-and didn't move.
A soft pat on her shoulder.
Jennifer stirred.
Then jolted-her whole body tightening as her eyes snapped open. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. It felt like waking up from a different place, like she'd been pulled out of water.
She turned , dazed, heart thudding-and then saw Miss Emily's face.
Calm. Close. Standing now.
Jennifer blinked again.
Her head had fallen on Miss Emily's shoulder.
And worse-
She glanced down, horrified, and saw a faint wet patch near the edge of Miss Emily's scarf. Saliva.
A flush of shame climbed up her cheeks like fire. She straightened quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Miss Emily didn't say anything.
Only looked at her, then gently said, "We've arrived."
She turned, her scarf already folded back into place, and stepped into the aisle to move out. Her voice was soft as she glanced back, "Jennifer. Let's go."
Jennifer grabbed her bag, still feeling the warmth of where she had leaned. Still feeling the weight of that silence-not cruel, not kind-just something she didn't know how to name.
She followed.
...
Outside, the sky was wider now, open and hot above the stretch of gravel where several buses had parked. The names painted on them stood out in sharp white: St. Peter's, St. Andrew's.
Students were already gathering in small clumps-adjusting caps, slinging bags over their shoulders , snapping photos, stretching stiff legs.
And there, as expected, Clara.
Jennifer spotted her standing off to the left-unmistakable.
She wore rugged khaki pants and a greyish-green outdoor jacket, rolled at the sleeves. The type of clothes that looked straight from a touring catalogue-masculine in cut, but striking on her. Confident. Effortless.
Clara's eyes scanned the crowd.
She hadn't seen Jennifer yet.
But Jennifer had seen her. And just for a second, everything-the bus, the scarf, the awkward awakening-slipped out of focus.
Clara always had that way of showing up like she belonged everywhere.
Even here.
Clara's eyes hadn't found her yet.
But Jennifer had already started moving.
She didn't think. She didn't speak.
Her legs just carried her forward-fast, unfiltered, like a child running to her mother after a long, strange dream.
Her bag bounced against her back.
Her still heavy from the bus.
The taste of awkwardness still in her mouth.
But when she reached Clara-everything slowed.
Clara turned just in time to open her arms.
And Jennifer landed there-not with words, not with answers-just presence.
Safe.
Seen.
Steady.