||JOE||

The class smells of Kiwi and cheap perfume. Major indicators that there are students going out of school today. Precisely, for the awaited Computer Studies symposium. Finally, it is here. We have been waiting for it since the first week after returning to school. We have missed going out on a function. Though what we miss most is the part where we get to see girls from Triple F and get naughty with them.

Pairing up with them might as well have been the best decision we ever made. Most of them are as nasty as they come and we love it that way. Dry-spell usually isn't so bad as they make things easier. I walk over to my sit at the back of the class and grab my black backpack. I shove in our presentation notes and printouts.

I will not be doing the presentation though because of a damn cold that is affecting me real time. It has taken away my normal voice such that sometimes when I'm talking, I feel like I'm croaking. More so in the morning. Stupid cold. Nevertheless, Kelvin, my best friend and desk-mate along with Johnson our friend and classmate will be doing the presentation.

"Listen up, I want everyone who is going to the symposium at the parking lot," Fahad, our computer lab captain says.

He's a tall, dark chocolate Somali with conspicuously big pitch-black eyes hidden behind his expensive glasses. Literally, he is a man of few words. He only talks when necessary like that previous moment.

Otherwise, he'd rather bury his face in books, top the whole form four block and of course, become the valedictorian if that exists in high school. I'm not sure because we only have a list of the best students each year in the national examination--KCSE.

The guys excitedly walk out of class you would think we are kids going to a candy festival. Kelvin walks into class looking like some made man in his black blazer, stark white shirt and ironed trousers. Damn, I didn't know he was so hell bent on impressing someone today.

Well, since I'm not interested in seeing any of the girls unless anyone is interested in seeing me, I decided to just go for a presentable shirt, no tie, ironed trousers and of course, cologne that will drive them crazy. Girls love a man who smells great.

"You look sharp. Going to see that Sharon girl?" he asks with a smug face that makes me roll my eyes.

I didn't realize my look went beyond the 'presentable' I was going for, but anyway, Sharon is a form 3 Aqua girl in SPG who is obsessed with me. She keeps sending me letters that I never reply to and she never gives up. She also keeps on tagging me on her class autobiographies that go around the class because some dudes are also dealing with girls from SPG's 3 Aqua. The faster she learns that I am not interested the better. It will save her from the inevitable heartbreak.

"No. I'm good with window shopping," I state in a serious tone that apparently turns out to be funny because he laughs, staring at me as if I've lost it.

I don't know what is funny about window shopping. It should be fun instead. Checking out potential girls that I would like to date or fuck but never approach them. It's just for my eyes to admire.

"Tired of her already?" he asks, taking a seat on his chair and propping his elbow on his locker.

Oh, it is about Sharon.

"I've always been tired of her. Did you get a better prescription?" I ask, digressing from the topic at hand.

"Yes. I just left it in the dormitory," he responds in relief.

I don't know what is usually wrong with the school nurse. She is always giving us paracetamol, aspirin or amoxil assuming every disease or condition is treatable with either. Kel has been running a bad stomach.

He says that it is probably ulcers. Sometimes they take a toll on him but the nurse actively thinks he is trying to lie his ass out of school. I swear it is no wonder students get into worse conditions or even die under their watch due to ignorance and sometimes neglect.

"Great. Did you brief Ben and Johnson about formation?" I ask him.

I've not studied for the paper we are first going to sit for and I feel kind of blank. Though I know once I get into that exam room I'll have content. I don't understand where it comes from. Probably from my prettily smart brain.

"Yeap. They are aware much aware of it," he says, grabbing his backpack from the back of his chair.

"Let's go then before the bus decides that it is not a must we attend the symposium," I say.

We walk out of the class and walk to the parking lot. The bus has already been ignited and the deputy principal, an intellectual dwarf--literally--is calling out names as the guys board the bus.

"Don't think that I haven't noticed. Are you going to see some girl? Is it Brianna?" I ask, referring to a girl in Triple F who has been crushing on him since form two.

Perhaps this dude finally developed some feelings towards her. She would be very lucky but I doubt he has.

"Nope. I tried and failed on that one. She's a homie the one I'm hoping to see. Though I'm not sure if she will come," he tells me with a serene smile.

She must mean something beautiful to him if he's smiling at the mere thought and mention of her.

"Dealing with homies now?" I ask with a pleased grin on my face.

"Easy access matters," he shrugs with a smile making me laugh.

"Clever," I say, commending him for his move.

We get to the bus and shut our mouths. The intellectual dwarf hates noise. He says that nothing perfect thrives in the presence of noise.

"Joe Danson Karanja," he calls out.

I make a beeline for the bus. Good thing it's just form threes and fours who are going for the symposium. So the fifty-seven seater bus has plenty of space since we are only twenty students. Each form takes ten students.

"Kelvin Ngala," he calls out Kel's name and the guy follows suit.

We take seats at the midsection area of the bus. The back seats are overrated. Everybody always wants to sit on them. There is also a stereotype that states only bad boys and girls are supposed to sit at the back. Good boys and girls sit at the front. Those who don't know where they belong or rather possess both qualities take the midsection seats.

"Shit. Did I put the letters in my backpack?" I ask, quickly checking inside it.

Of course, as is custom, every guy with or eyeing a girl in the various girls' schools gave me a letter to deliver. Nothing much is ever written on them. Just some stupid high-school nonsense that we tolerate anyway.

"You gave them to me, bro," Kel says.

"Ugh, I forgot," I groan, just as our computer teacher, Mr Karimi enters the bus.

"Good morning, everyone," he greets us with a slightly there smile.

We all groan our responses before he takes a seat at the front. Yeap, good guys also get to sit with the teachers. Some think it's a privilege. Others like me think it is a scam. Teachers are snakes. At least the majority of them.

They may like you but at the end of the day will punish you just because they are teachers and they want to act professionally. Also because they can and there is nothing you can do about it. Instilling discipline my foot.

"Everyone, good luck with the paper and the presentations. Represent the school well. I don't want any cases of indiscipline--" he continues to blubber the same thing he always does before we leave for a function.

Discipline. Good conduct for the reputation of the school and oneself. Good grades et cetera. My eyes scan the dewy grass a few yards away. For some reason I can't seem to put my fingers on, I feel happy. Perhaps it is this thing about getting out of this mini prison that is getting me a little hyper. Anyway, I ignore the feeling and choose to talk to Kel about this girl he dressed up for. I'm curious.

🧯EAST SQUARED🧯

Buses are flocking Makiri Girls school field, parking under the shades of eucalyptus lining up the field perimeter. The field looks colourful with all the different colours of school uniforms roaming around it. Skirts, per the usual, are what I and my fellow boys are busy eye-chasing as we drive across the field. Precisely, St. Peter's Girls High skirts.

"We are finally here!" Johnson howls from the back seat making us laugh.

He's probably hyperventilating from the fact that he will be seeing Daisy in a few. She is his girl from Triple F. For all I know, they are officially dating. The driver parks the bus at the eastern corner of the field. Just a perfect spot to revive Sodom and Gomorrah.

"Listen here, boys. I repeat. I do not want to hear of any misconduct reports. I know you are excited and probably high on libido but don't let that earn you a date with the disciplinary committee, tomorrow. It would be such an unfortunate thing. Am I clear?" Mr Karimi says, his eyes darting from one corner of the bus to the other.

"Yes, sir," we respond in unison.

Of course, people will misbehave. Some will try sinking their dicks into willing holes. Others will be good with just foreplay. Others might even smoke weed. There is always someone who has it ready for needy students. But, bottom line, we will definitely misbehave as long as we don't get caught.

"Off to the hall for the presentations," he says as he alights the bus.

"Sir, are we not starting with the examination paper?" Fahad loudly asks as people start alighting the bus.

"God, I hope we are not doing it. I have zero content in my head," I say while making a silent prayer for us not to do the paper.

"You're a genius. You don't need content. You just need general knowledge," Kel says, slapping my back to drive the point home.

"Sometimes even geniuses need content," I argue, starting my way out of the bus.

He follows closely behind me, knocking on the bus roof aimlessly. Probably just enjoying the fact that he is six foot three. An inch taller than me. We alight and join the others a few metres away from the bus.

"...because of time," Mr Karimi finishes up, leaving us hanging.

"What is time be-causing?" I ask Jarrod, a famous for nothing form three student.

"We are not doing the paper because of time limitations. We are just going to do the presentations," he says happily.

That's more like it!

"Thank goodness! Off to the presentations we go then," I cheer, rubbing my palms together in anticipation.

The presentation topic is CCTV technology. We are supposed to present the pros and cons of having CCTV in our schools. It seems like an unlikely or useless topic but we could care less as it is what brought us here.

As the St Peter's, both boys and girls, we are presenting on the cons of having CCTV installed in classrooms and dormitories. I can't wait to hear what our sister school has to say about that. I'm hoping they came up with reasonable and strong points. We are relying on them to support us in preaching against it.

There is no way I want another eye in class. I've already got fifty-six pairs including mine. Those are more than enough. But most importantly, we would hate to encourage creepy behaviours in teachers. Nobody wants to have a teacher creepily watching their every move from the comfort of their office.

"You are number six in line. That is after your sister school," Mr Karimi says. "Go settle in the hall and get yourselves prepared."

We disperse, everybody joining their buddy before making a beeline for the DH--dining hall. As we approach the hall, I take note of our sister school's bus driving through the field to park at the eastern corner. Perfect. It will be beside ours. Very strategic.

"We are in luck," I hear Jarrod saying.

I turn to find him looking at the girls' bus while the driver parks it beside ours. If only those girls knew how happy we are to know they are here, they would brag about it all day. I think it is best if they don't know just to keep their pride in check.

"I hope those presentations will not go beyond twelve," Johnson says, already sounding tired of them.

We haven't even gotten to the hall and he's already tired. Better yet, he hasn't even presented.

"Twelve? Eleven is even too much," Kelvin says in a serious tone making us laugh.

"Unless a miracle happens, we can't finish them by eleven. There are some people there who have presentation diarrhoea. Once they start presenting, they don't stop," I point out.

In the hall, we grab seats in the middle row. If this was entertainment, we would have opted for the front-row seats but it isn't. As more schools come in, Kelvin keeps staring at the door, hoping that his girl will show up.

"Still not going to tell me her name?" I ask, nudging him.

"Sheraw," he says, turning his attention to me.

My jaws are on the floor. Not because I know Sheraw, but because, surely.

"Bro, of all girls, you chose Sheraw?" I ask, studying his face carefully.

It's not that she is not cool or anything. It's just that I never pegged her for his type. He loves the quiet ones. That is introverts who never talk unless necessary. The innocent ones. They include those with cute innocent smiles, bright shining eyes and huge pure hearts.

"Preferences change, Joe," he says with an unapologetic shrug.

"Clearly. But, what did she do to you? I feel like there is something that happened over the holiday that got you smitten," I pointedly say with a squinting expression, trying to decipher if my speculation could be true.

"Nothing. It just happened. I like her and can't explain it," he says in a serious tone. "You won't understand. If you took Sharon or June seriously, then perhaps you would."

"I do like them. Just not in the way they want. Especially Sharon. I would rather deal with June than her. That girl has some serious obsessive disorder."

"Simply, you are open to trying it out with other girls, right?" he lazily asks.

"I'm not interested but I don't mind fooling around if anyone shows interest," I respond.

"You are never interested. Yet you do play along and fool around. I don't get you," Kel shakes his head in lack of understanding.

"Just because I'm not interested doesn't mean that I can't fool around. Besides, I still haven't found someone who interests me enough to make her my girl."

"You mean a smartass like you?" he asks with a knowing smile.

Yeah. Exactly that. I love beauties with brains. I have always had a burning desire for smart girls and we can simply say that I am somewhat sapiosexual. However, I don't like my girl being a nerd. I like her being a smart extrovert. For sanity's sake, I want someone with whom I can radio with through the day.

"Exactly. Until then, I think I'll have to enjoy fooling around," I defend.

"It's your call, bro," he says.

"Good morning and welcome to Makiri Girls High Computer Studies Symposium. Without wasting too much time, I'll get directly to the point. I'll start with the few rules that have..."

She proceeds to tell us that the dormitories are out of bounds. They have to be. Otherwise, horny teenagers might end up turning them into brothels for the day. So is the sanatorium area. In short, we are only allowed in the school area. A few more useless rules about dumping litter everywhere among other things are read out.

Once she is done, she hands it over to the symposium coordinators who then kick off the presentations by calling the first school to make their presentation. It's one of the boy's schools in the county. Our academic rivals, I would call them.

Minutes morph into two hours later when SPG is called to make their presentation. Kel, who was sliding down his chair with sleep wakes up and searches the cheering squad. A minute later, his face falls and immediately, I know Sheraw didn't come.

"She didn't come," he observes, his face morphing into a disappointed mess.

"Sorry about that, bro," I pat his back, my lips twitching and my heart wishing that she came.

Not for the symposium, but for him.