ORIKA'S POV
The first day of school.
It's strange how the words sound exciting and terrifying at the same time.
I hate new schools.
Not because I can't adjust or make friends - okay, maybe that's part of it - but mostly because I have to start all over again.
My hands felt clammy as I sat in the back seat with my siblings, staring out the car window as our dad drove us to school. Ayira sat beside Kenari, humming quietly. They looked calmer than I felt. Or maybe they were just better at hiding how they felt.
Dad kept glancing at us through the rearview mirror. "You all remember what I said?" he asked.
"Yes, Dad," we chorused.
"No wandering around. No getting into trouble. Be kind. Focus. And if anything weird happens…"
"We call you or Mum immediately," I finished for him. He nodded, satisfied.
The hallway smelled like disinfectant and floor polish. My dad had dropped us off, promising to pick mom up later, as always. He ruffled Kenari's hair and kissed Ayira's forehead before giving me a silent, encouraging nod while mom just waved at us screaming how much she loves us. Then he drove off with that proud-parent smile.
Dad would drop mom off at the hospital she works then drives off to work. He also picks mom when he closes from work. It was their little tradition - coming home together, side by side. Somehow, it made me feel safe knowing they always came back as a pair.
We finally arrived. A smiling receptionist greeted us at the front desk and took us to the principal's office - a firm-looking man in a grey suit and a wristwatch that probably cost a small fortune. He handed me a class schedule and instructed the receptionist to escort us to our respective classrooms.
I held on tightly to my bag as we walked through the busy hallways. The receptionist asked a prefect to take Ayira and Kenari to their classes. I watched my little cousin brother wave at me before disappearing around a corner. Then the receptionist walked me to the senior secondary block.
SS1. New class. New faces.
My stomach twisted.
The receptionist knocked once before pushing the door open. A soft hush fell over the classroom.
"New student," she said briefly before stepping aside.
Eyes. Dozens of them.
The classroom was much bigger than I expected - and more crowded. There had to be over forty students. That was almost double the size of my last school's class. I stood awkwardly at the front, clutching my bag straps and scanning the sea of unknown faces.
"Class," the teacher said, pulling me out of my daze. She was smiling warmly. "This is Orika Obanise. She just joined us. Please make her feel welcome. Orika, you can take the empty seat beside Alma."
Alma.
The name rang softly in my ears as I walked to the back row. My new seatmate looked up and gave me a small, polite smile. She had clear skin, a halo of soft brown curls, and eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners. She was a head taller than me, even while sitting.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied, sliding into the seat.
We didn't say anything else for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alma had a calm, collected aura that made it easy to just sit quietly.
Classes started. The teacher began calling names, and each student stood to introduce themselves. When it was Alma's turn, she stood confidently.
"I'm Alma ahmid-park. My dad is Hausa, and my mum is Korean. I've lived here all my life. I like painting and biology."
Some students clapped. A few giggled. Alma sat down, unbothered.
Then it was my turn. I stood. "I'm Orika Obanise. I just moved here. I like reading and journaling."
A polite round of applause. I sat down quickly. Then teacher went ahead to introduce herself "My name is Miss Odu."
After morning announcements, we started with Mathematics. Alma was sharp - sharp enough that I noticed how quickly she solved her classwork without scribbling nonsense in the margins like most students. When we passed our books forward, she leaned toward me slightly.
"You just moved here?" she asked.
"Yeah. Yesterday."
"That's a lot of students to walk into," she smiled.
I smiled too. She wasn't as shy as I expected. Maybe she was warming up to me.
Recess finally came. Alma turned to me. "Want to go to the cafeteria?"
I smiled, shaking my head. "My mum packed lunch."
"So did mine," she said. And we headed to the cafeteria to eat
I reached into my bag and pulled out the container Mum had lovingly packed that morning—catfish pepper soup filled with veggies, a side of fluffy rice, and even a pack of snacks. Our parents had given us allowance, but they insisted on homemade meals. Something about love tasting better in food while alma reached into her bag for a bento box
We walked towards a cafeteria bench and I noticed that alma seems to always eat alone . Then it happened.
My ears twitched.
I could hear her - Ayira.
I turned my head just slightly, catching the distant but familiar sound of her voice. She sounded… upset? Worried? It was hard to explain. My eyes blurred slightly. I blinked, and for a split second, I felt a warmth spread over my skin.
"Hey," Alma said, peering closer. "Your eyes just… glowed."
I froze.
"What?" I whispered.
Before I could gather a response, I heard it clearly—"Orikaaaa!"
Ayira's voice.
I snapped my head up. She was running toward me across the cafeteria, arms wide open, face sour and exhausted but lit up immediately our eyes met
My body moved on instinct. I stood, arms open too, as we collided in a soft hug. Alma looked surprised but smiled at the sight.
"Ayira, what happened?" I asked.
"My classmates seem to be looking at me weirdly and I don't like it and oh! I also miss you" she beamed.
"Your class?"
"They said we could roam for a few minutes in the senior cafeteria," she giggled. "I missed you."
I didn't know what to say. My heart felt full.
When I turned back, Alma was staring, more intrigued than ever.
"You two are close," she said simply.
"You have no idea," I muttered.
The rest of the school day passed in a blur of introductions, lectures, and whispers I chose to ignore. By the time the closing bell rang, my mind was already drifting homeward. The final bell rang through the corridors like a sigh of relief. The hum of students rising from their seats filled the air as we packed our bags. My fingers moved slowly, still caught in the aftertaste of the day - new faces, strange emotions, Alma's curious glances, and the odd, flickering pulse I felt near Ayira earlier. I didn't know what that was. But I felt... different.
"Orika!" Alma's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She flashed a small smile as she zipped up her pastel pink backpack. "Don't forget your bottle."
"Thanks," I mumbled, sliding it into the side pocket of my bag.
We walked together toward the main exit, her steps light, mine more deliberate. I spotted Ayira and Kenari waiting at the pickup area, flanked by a female staff member who must have been assigned to escort them earlier. Kenari was sitting on his lunch bag, trying to peel an orange with his teeth. Ayira looked up first and grinned when she saw me.
Her joy was infectious. Her eyes sparkled, and without thinking, I dropped my bag and opened my arms. She screamed my name—loud, proud, and full of the kind of energy only siblings who've made it through the first day could possess. She ran into me, and we hugged like we'd been apart for weeks instead of hours. Kenari was next, crashing into my side, nearly knocking all three of us over.
I laughed.
Something shimmered in my chest again—that pull. Like light beneath my skin. My eyes tingled for a moment, and I blinked fast, praying Alma hadn't seen. But she was staring.
"Your eyes just…" she began softly, brows pinched, but her sentence faded into the sound of Kenari yelling about how his class had a fish tank.
I didn't answer her. I couldn't. Not when Ayira was jumping up and down beside me, telling me about a girl in her class who braided her doll's hair with beads that clinked like shells.
The teacher pointed to the line of buses parked outside. "Bus riders to the right, please!"
A gust of warm air greeted us outside. The late afternoon sun was leaning low against the sky, painting everything gold. The school bus looked older than the ones from my previous school, but the yellow paint still held some shine. A driver called our names off a list, and the three of us clambered aboard.
I let Ayira and Kenari take the window seats. As I slid into the aisle seat beside them, Kenari pressed his lunch bag into my arms.
"I saved you a bit of the catfish," he whispered proudly.
I smiled and pulled them close—my annoying, amazing siblings. Our parents had packed us lunch from home—spicy catfish pepper soup, rich with scent and flavor, the rice soaked just enough to hold its heat till midday. I hadn't eaten much. None of us had touched our allowance. I didn't feel like explaining why cafeteria food felt... unnatural. Not when something inside me was stirring, watching, waiting.
The bus rocked gently as we passed rows of rusted gates, fruit sellers, and familiar landmarks. The neighborhood was alive with honking okadas and trailing dust. We finally arrived at our compound, and I helped Ayira carry her bag down the steps while Kenari struggled with his oversized water bottle.
We got home just before 4:00pm
Inside the house, we dropped our bags like a ritual - one after the other - and spread out to our respective corners. I stood in the corridor for a moment, watching the light pour in from the kitchen window, feeling the quiet settle like a warm blanket. We didn't wait for instructions.
Each of us knew what to do.
I entered my room, stripped off my uniform, and stepped into the shower. The water was cool and sharp against my skin. I let it run for a while, hoping it would rinse away whatever strange energy had been clinging to me all day. Then I changed into a fresh T-shirt and a beige short , my hair wrapped in a towel looking like a mountain. From the hall, I could hear the water running in the other bathrooms - Kenari humming, Ayira splashing. The sound of home.
We all gathered in the sitting room afterward, spreading our notebooks on the rug. I helped them with their homework first - Kenari's messy sums and Ayira's half-spelled words - before opening mine. I couldn't concentrate for long. My mind kept drifting to the odd sensation in my chest, that faint glimmer behind my ribs.
When we finished, I carried the laundry basket from each room, sorting the clothes into piles in the corridor, close to the washing machine. We'd wait for Mom to come home before running it she didn't trust the machine alone with us. But I folded what I could, stacked it neatly, and moved to the kitchen to clean up.
The sink was full of breakfast plates and lunch flasks. I washed them one by one, the clink of ceramic against steel oddly soothing. The smell of dish soap and onions lingered in the air. I moved on autopilot, but deep down, I knew I was trying to distract myself - from the questions I didn't have answers to.
Then the front door opened.
It was 6:00 p.m. sharp - right on schedule. The familiar sound of my parents' laughter filtered in before their voices did. Mum looked radiant in her work clothes, and Dad's smile was the tired kind - the kind that said he'd missed home all day.
"We got a cake!" Mum announced, holding up a box with gold lettering.
Dad raised his brow in mock surprise. "To celebrate the brave warriors who survived their first day at school and work."
Ayira clapped excitedly, Kenari grinned, and for a moment, everything was light. We cut the cake together in the kitchen, shared jokes, and told stories in between mouthfuls of spongy sweetness. I couldn't help but feel full - not just in my stomach, but in my chest too.
Then Ayira, as if she couldn't hold it in anymore, looked straight at me and said, "Don't forget your birthday is in two weeks, Orika."
Her voice was cheerful, almost playful.
But my smile faltered.
Everyone else nodded or cheered, but deep inside, something quiet recoiled. I didn't know why, but the thought of turning sixteen made my stomach twist. Like something was waiting. Like something was coming.
And for the life of me… I didn't know what.