The buses rolled into Our Lady of Fatima Girl's just after four in the evening. The sun was already lowering behind the chapel cross, casting long golden shadows over the stone pathway. The once-buzzing students were quieter now, worn out from the long day at Ngong Hills.
As Jennifer stepped down from the bus, bag slung over one shoulder, she spotted Sister Margret near the main building. Her veil was pinned neatly in place, hands folded in front of her as usual, with a gentle but firm presence.
"Welcome back, Form Four South... Form Four North," "I know it's been a long day for all of you-climbing hills, fresh air, and bumpy rides."
A few students gave tired chuckles.
"I've spoken with your class teachers already," Sister Margret continued. "This evening, you are not expected in any formal classes. You may use this time to rest, read, or refresh yourselves in your dormitories or approved areas. Tomorrow, we resume regular schedule."
She gave a small nod, and the crowd slowly began to disperse-some girls heading toward the water station near the dining hall.
Jennifer lingered for a moment longer, her gaze drifting toward the far side, the direction of Miss Emily's office. She stared for just a breath longer, her heart catching in her chest.
She didn't know why.
"Ugh-finally! Back at school!" came Cynthia's voice behind her, full of breathy relief.
Jennifer blinked and turned. Cynthia had her hoodie tied around her waist and a water bottle dangling from her hand. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the trip, but she was already smiling, nudging Jennifer playfully as she passed.
"Come on, don't freeze there. Let's go. I need my bed."
Jennifer nodded faintly and followed.
Together, they made their way toward the dormitory block, the sound of echoing footsteps and tired laughter from other students all around them.
...
In the dorm room, the atmosphere was noisy, warm, and slightly chaotic. Girls were unpacking their bags, pulling off dusty socks, and sharing snacks they had saved from the trip. The room echoed with soft chatter and bursts of laughter.
Jennifer knelt beside her bed, slowly unzipping her bag, her body moving with a kind of practiced stillness. As she pulled out her sweater and tossed it onto her mattress, she felt someone watching her.
She looked up-Maria.
From across the dorm, Maria sat on her bunk, arms folded, her eyes on Jennifer. There was nothing friendly in her expression, but it wasn't hatred either. It was...something quieter. Guarded. Like she was waiting.
Jennifer said nothing. She turned her gaze away and reached for her toothbrush instead.
The noise around her was too much-the closeness of bodies, the shrill of laughter that scraped at her already frayed nerves.
She stood up quietly, slipped on her sweeter, and grabbed her journal from the bag's side pocket. Without a word, she made her way out.
...
The school library was dimly lit but quiet. The air smelled of polished wood and paper. Rows of books stood like silent guardians. Jennifer walked slowly past them, her fingers trailing along the spines until she reached the corner desk near the back.
She sat down, finally exhaling. Her shoulders dropped slightly.
It was the first time all day she fell she could breathe.
Jennifer sat hunched slightly at the corner desk, her pen moving in slow strokes across the page. She was summarizing notes from the day's trip-terrain types, vegetation zones, some scattered details from the guide's talk at Ngong Hills. Writing it helped her feel anchored. Grounded.
Just as she began to underline the words "windward side" ,she heard footsteps-measured and confident.
"Is that geography?" a voice asked, smooth but warm.
Jennifer turned her head.
Christine.
Christine smiled slightly and pulled a chair, dragging it across from Jennifer and sitting down like she belonged there.
"I love that topic," she said, glancing at Jennifer's notebook. "Especially the bit about wind currents and pressure belts. It's like the earth is always breathing, you know?"
Jennifer blinked. "Yeah...I guess so."
Christine eyes scanned the page, then lifted again.
"Mind if I ask something?" she said softly, tilting her head. "What's Angela's favorite thing in the world? And what does she hate the most?"
Jennifer froze a little, thrown off. Her pen hovered mid-air.
"Angela?"
Christine nodded, still casual. "You two are close, right? You seem to sit together all the time."
Jenifer hesitated. Her mind flickered through memories-Angela's giggles, her sudden silences, the way she hugged people tightly but sometimes stared blankly at sunsets.
"I don't know what her favorite is exactly," Jennifer murmured. "Maybe... strawberries. Or poetry. She likes soft things. Doesn't like arguments. Maybe ask Cynthia she knows her best."
Christine didn't say anything at first. Her expression shifted just a little, unreadable.
Then she gave a soft shrug. "Don't mind. I'll find out on my own."
She tapped her fingers once on the table, then slowly stood up.
"See you around," she said.
Jennifer nodded, her eyes following her as she walked away between the shelves.
...
The golden light of evening had begun to slope through the school corridors, casting long shadows across the right prairie path. Jennifer stood still for a moment between the bookshelves, her eyes lingering on the space where Christine had just been. The hush of library settled back around her like a slow breath. Then, quietly, she stepped out, letting her footsteps echo along the tiled hallway. The dorm block wasn't far-but today, the walk felt unusually long. A breeze slipped in through an open window, carrying the scent of pine and a faint warmth that hinted at the sun's descent.
Just as Jennifer reached her dorm room and sank onto edge of her bad, her phone buzzed softly.
Clara.
"Hey baby girl. How was the hike? Hope it was great!"
Jennifer stared at the message for a moment, her fingers hovering.
She wanted to tell Clara the truth-that she'd slipped, that Miss Emily had caught her, that there'd been blood, a crowd, a teacher escorting them to the clinic. That she still felt the imprint of it all on her skin.
But Clara was likely at work. Jennifer imagined her seated behind a screen, earbuds in, hair pulled up, shoulders always stiff.
So she typed:
"It was great. I enjoyed it. 👟😊.
She sent it.
Then she held the phone in her hand a little longer.
Her thumb slowly moved across the screen, opening the message thread she'd never touched.
Miss Emily.
There were no texts in the conversations-just the blank gray space of a connection never used.
She bit her lip.
Should she ask if she was okay?
Would it be crossing a line?
Would Miss Emily even reply?
Her heart thudded, quiet but steady. She stared at the screen, thinking of that moment-of her body crumpled into Miss Emily's arms, of the lavender scent, of the way she'd looked more scared for Jennifer than for herself.
Jennifer typed slowly.
"Are you okay?"
She hovered.
Deleted.
Typed again:
"Hi. I hope you're okay. Thank you...for earlier."
Still too much?
She stared again. Then quietly, with a shallow breath-she hit send.
And the screen went still.
The message showed it had been read.
Around her, the dormitory was still. The girls had eaten supper at six, and now most of them were fast asleep, a few already snoring in the low amber glow of the emergency light. But Jennifer couldn't sleep. For thirty long minutes, she lay twisting from side to side, her thoughts spiraling, her body restless with waiting. Miss Emily had read her message, but there was no reply.
Unable to take it anymore, she sat up, her heartbeat sharp in her throat.
She didn't bother with sandals. Just her socks. Silent and careful, she tiptoed between the beds, holding her breath each time a board creaked underfoot. Her phone, clutched tightly in hand, gave off the softest light-enough to guide her without waking anyone.
Once outside the dormitory, the night air hit her. Cold, still. Shadows stretched across the open spaces, and the silence felt deeper here. She slipped past the main staffrooms-her heart tightening with every step-heading toward Miss Emily's office.
Jennifer paused and finally turned on her flashlight.
The beam cut through the dark, revealing the quiet path ahead. Her socked feet made no sound, but she could feel every pebble, every step. With every quiet footfall, her pulse quickened-unsure whether she hoped to find Miss Emily waiting or feared it.
Jennifer stopped in front of Miss Emily's office door.
It wasn't locked.
It wasn't even closed.
The door stood wide open, darkness spilling out from inside like it had been that way for hours.
She hesitated.
Miss Emily would never leave her office open. Not like this. Not without a reason. Not in silence.
Jennifer tightened her grip on the phone and turned on the flashlight.
She gave herself one deep breath.
Then stepped in.
Each step was quiet, deliberate-socks brushing against the tiled floor. Her light swept against the tilted floor. Her light swept across the familiar walls, catching shelves, books, chair and the edge of a desk but no one.
No voice. No sound.
The office was cold, still, and far too quiet.
Her flashlight shifted toward the inner room-the one that always made her heart race. Misss Emily's resting quarters.
A single bed.
Jennifer's breath hitched.
There-just at the edge of her light-was something. A shadow.
No, not a shadow.
A figure.
She screamed.
The figure screamed back.
Then it jolted-started-and the light snapped on.
Jennifer blinked hard.
For a moment, her vision blurred. But slowly, the scene settled before her:
Maria-it was Maria-holding onto Miss Emily, half-kneeling on the bed, her arms braced tightly around her. Her body shook slightly, like she had been frightened too. Miss Emily was lying back, resting but awake now, her head slightly raised, one hand gently placed on Maria's back as if to calm her.
Both of them turned to look at Jennifer.
Maria's face was pale, her breathe uneven.
Miss Emily... looked calm but confused. Her eyes locked with Jennifer's-unreadable, steady.
Jennifer stood frozen in the doorway. The phone light dimmed in her hand, her thoughts spiraling too fast to form anything clear.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't move.
All she could do was watch.