The first weeks of school passed quickly. Classes became demanding, teachers strict, and friendship circles sharper. Chumuka kept to her books and found comfort in routine. Luyando, on the other hand, attracted attention wherever she went. Boys from nearby schools found reasons to pass by the fence. Senior boys smiled too long when she crossed the courtyard. Some girls admired her. Others envied her.
At first, it all looked harmless.
Then the whispers started.
Chumuka noticed that Luyando had begun sneaking out after evening prep. At night she would return late, smelling of body spray and secrets. When Chumuka asked where she had been, Luyando would laugh and say, "You worry too much. I was only talking."
But her eyes no longer held the same easy light.
One afternoon, while they washed clothes behind the dormitory, two girls nearby began giggling.
"She thinks they love her," one of them said.
"They all say the same thing," the other replied. "A promise today, silence tomorrow."
Luyando's hands froze in the wash water. She pretended not to hear, but her face changed.
Later that night, Chumuka asked softly, "What are they talking about?"
Luyando did not answer at first. Then she lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
"Have you ever wanted to feel chosen?" she asked.
Chumuka frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean wanted," Luyando said. "Wanted like you matter."
Chumuka did not know how to respond.
Luyando laughed bitterly. "Forget it."
But from that night, Chumuka watched more closely. Boys were leaving notes for Luyando. One teacher had already warned her twice about breaking curfew. Another girl claimed she had seen her behind the science block with a college boy from town.
When Chumuka tried to caution her, Luyando shrugged.
"Not every hand means harm," she said.
Chumuka remembered the dream again.
Then she heard one of the matrons say a saying from home: "Bubombe bwalya mwine." Carelessness eats its owner.
For the first time, fear entered her heart, not for herself, but for her friend.