Jennifer placed her fork down gently, the clink barely heard beneath the soft hum of the dining room.
"I'm full," she murmured, her voice distant, almost apologetic. "I think I'll head up. I'm...sleepy."
She didn't wait for a reply. Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she stood. Clara glanced at her, concerned, but said nothing. Miss Emily didn't even look up. Her eyes were still on her food-carefully slicing through the steamed vegetables like nothing else existed.
Jennifer hesitated. Then turned away and left.
...
The room was quiet when she entered. A single lamp glowed at the corner, casting soft gold against the hotel walls.
Jennifer didn't go far. She sat at the edge of the bed, her back slightly hunched, arms wrapped around her knees.
The pillow still smelled faint of pine soap and ironed sheets. And the thoughts... wouldn't stop.
"You're still innocent."
Clara's words echoed.
Innocent.
But she wasn't. She knew that. She knew what had already happened.
Clara didn't know. Clara didn't see.
She didn't see how Miss Emily never looked up. How she just kept eating-unbothered, composed-as Jennifer left with her throat burning.
And if Clara knew the truth?
That her trust was misplaced. That Miss Emily wasn't just worried about Jennifer- she had taken something from her. Quietly. Carefully. Without saying a word.
She could still feel it sometimes-the warmth of that room. The weight of her own silence. The way her body had given in before her mind understood what was being taken.
No...not now.
She pressed her palms together, forcing the thoughts away.
The door clicked open.
Soft footsteps.
Clara stood at the entrance, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light behind her. She spotted Jennifer sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched quietly in the dark, her long dark hair falling around her face.
"Ah, Jen," Clara said gently, closing the door behind her. "You've not slept yet?"
She kicked off her switch shoes with a soft groan. "Ah-these shoes," she muttered, more to herself, rubbing one foot against the other.
Then she walked over and patted the bed.
"Come on," she said, her voice teasing but warm. "Today let me be the one to cuddle you."
Jennifer hesitated only for a breath. Then she moved-slowly, wordlessly-into her sister's arms.
Clara wrapped both arms around her, pulling her in close.
And in that quiet moment, Jennifer let herself breathe.
Here, wrapped in the warmth of someone who used to braid her hair before school...someone who once brought her juice when she had a fever...someone who left became something far away-here, Jennifer finally felt something like safe.
Two years since Clara left for the military.
Two years since she last held her like this.
But tonight , in that small hotel room far from school and trouble and shadows, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
Almost.
Clara let out a soft sigh, her hand absentmindedly brushing through Jennifer's hair.
"Eh...this uniform life," she murmured.
Sometimes I miss home so much. I even miss grandma Rael."
Jennifer smiled faintly, still curled in her arms. "I was just thinking about her," she whispered.
Clara chuckled. "Especially her stories. You remember the one she used to tell us about the chicken that stole her slippers?"
Jennifer gave a tired laugh. "And how she chased it all the way to the neighbor's shamba...in her leso."
They both giggled softly in the dark.
"And her konsa mato," Jennifer said suddenly, her voice laced with fondness. "No one can make it like her."
"No one," Clara agreed. "That recipe must have come straight from the ancestors."
Jennifer tilted her head, resting it against Clara's shoulders. "I remember once, I said I wasn't full...and she gave me her whole plate without even thinking twice."
Clara smiled, eyes soft. "That's her. Even if she hasn't eaten, she'll pretend she's full, just to feed someone else."
Jennifer was quiet for a moment. "Do you think...do you think that goat is still alive? What was her name again?"
"Kalekye," Clara said with a grin. "You really think that noisy goat made it this far? That one was a survivor. Unless she chewed someone's Bible."
Jennifer laughed. "Kalekye the sinner goat."
They lay there in silence for a while, holding each other, breathing in the comfort of something familiar.
Clara said, "I miss home too, Jen. But don't worry-after your end of first term exams, we'll go home together."
Jennifer nodded slowly, holding that promise quietly inside her chest.
...
The morning light crept in softly through the thin hotel curtains. The sheets beside Jennifer were cold. She stirred, blinked, and reached out-but Clara was gone.
Her eyes caught the folded letter on the pillow.
It was sealed with a careful press, and beside it lay a delicate silver pendant-a soft glint catching the sun. Jennifer recognized it. Her mother's. The one Clara always wore. It still held the engraved initials M.N-her mother's name, Margret Nduku.
Jennifer sat up slowly, her fingers brushing the curve of the pendant. She opened the letter:
"Little one,"
I had to leave earlier than I wanted. Duty calls again.
I didn't want to wake you-you looked peaceful.
That pendant...Mum gave it to me the last time we saw her. Just before she and Dad left. She said,
"Take care of your sister. Make her feel safe in our absence, until we come back."
I've tried. Now it's your turn to wear it.
Please don't carry every weight by yourself. If it ever gets too heavy, call me-even if I'm busy. I will pick up. Always.
You are never alone.
Your loud sister,
Clara.
Jennifer held the pendant tighter. The metal was cold, but somehow it warmed her palms.
She didn't cry. Not yet. But something softened inside her chest.
Jennifer changed into a fresh uniform she had packed in her bag-one she folded herself back at school, neatly tucked beside her prayer book and socks. She didn't remember when exactly moment sleep took her, Only that Clara had held her close after they talked about home, about Grandma Rael's food, and the goat with the ridiculous nickname. The quiet had crept in softly, and somewhere between Clara's laugh and her warmth, Jennifer had drifted off. Now, the light through the curtains felt softer than usual, but something in her chest still sat unsettled.
After tying her hair back and pinning on the pendant, she slipped on her shoes and stepped out.
Downstairs, the soft clatter of utensils and chairs echoed from the dining area. A light morning breeze drifted through the open windows as Jennifer joined the line. The hotel staff were serving a simple breakfast-warm mandazis, scrambled eggs with a touch of coriander, slices of fresh pawpaw, and mugs of steaming tea with milk.
Scanning the room, Jennifer noticed Angela seated with Christine, chatting quietly, while Cynthia sat alone at the far end of the table, stirring her tea without interest.
Without a second thought, Jennifer moved toward her.
"Mind if I join you," she asked, her voice still low from the morning hush.
Cynthia looked up, nodded faintly, then gave a small shrug. "Sure."
Jennifer sat down. As she began to peel her mandazi, she glanced sideways-Cynthia's mood was dim, her fingers picking absently at her plate.
Something was off.
Jennifer stirred her cup lightly, her spoon clinking gently against the ceramic. Across from her, Cynthia poked at her mandazi without much interest. "Looks like Angela isn't having breakfast without us today," Jennifer said, trying not to sound curious.
Cynthia gave a small shrug and glanced toward the corner where Christine sat. "She got someone else now... a friend she's been hanging out with a lot lately," she replied, her tone calm but pointed. Jennifer sensed there was more she wasn't saying.
They finished their breakfast in an easy silence, the kind that didn't press but lingered in thoughts. Just as they were picking up their trays, a teacher-one of the accompanying staff from another school -clapped her hands gently at the front.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! We'll be hiking today, so please prepare yourselves. Comfortable shoes, water bottles-be ready in twenty minutes."
...
The sun had risen higher by the time everyone gathered outside. This time, no buses were separated by school names or dorm houses. The students loaded in freely-a mixture of chatter, giggles, and zipping bags filled the air. Some sat beside strangers, Others found comfort in familiar faces. Jennifer entered quietly with Cynthia behind her, stepping into the flow like it was just another morning.
The vehicle was nearly full now. Only two empty seats remained-one beside Brian, and the other seats next to Kevin. It almost felt like fate...or maybe just bad timing.
Jennifer didn't hesitate long. She walked past Brian's row without a glance and settled down beside Kevin, though every part of her felt unready for it. But sitting with Brian? That was out of the question.
Cynthia slipped into seat behind her without saying anything.
Jennifer faced forward, clutching her backpack tighter on her lap. The road ahead was already rumbling.
The bus rumbled along as the driver's voice came up over a small speaker:
"Alright everyone, please secure your bags and water bottles properly. We'll stop first at Ngong Hills for our hike-should take about 45 minutes to get her."
Jennifer tightened the straps on her backpack, scanning the other students. Around her, there was a mix of excited chatter and quiet anticipation.
She leaned forward slightly, eyes drifting to the driver's rearview mirror where the instructor stood, ready to guide them on foot once they arrived.
The bus sways slightly as they approach the hills.
The engine growled under them as the bus climbed a gentle slope. Around Jennifer, students were reaching for their backpacks, tightening straps, securing buckles.
She was the last.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she searched the side pocket for her belt. The air inside the bus felt heavier now-more compressed. Just as she found it, a shadow leaned closer.
Kevin.
He reached out-not too fast, just enough to be near. One of his fingers lightly touched the loose strap of her bag, helping her pull it forward. But his eyes... they stayed locked on hers.
Jennifer froze.
The air seemed to crackle between them. Her heartbeat fluttered, caught in the silence. His breath, steady but close. Hers, uneven.
And then he whispered, low against her ear:
"Today, I have to keep the promise you asked for."
His breath brushed against her ear.
At least...I get punished for something I actually did."
NB: " Konsa mato" is a traditional kamba dish made by simmering well-cooked beans in their broth, then gently adding maize flour while stirring with a muiko (wooden cooking stick). The result is a soft, slightly thick mixture-warm, filling, and full of home comfort.