Ashley's pov
The next morning was a bit windy—just enough to ruffle the leaves and tug lightly at my jacket. The kind of wind that carried sunlight on its edges, soft and gold, the sun sitting just above the rooftops as if it were waiting for permission to rise fully. Slowly threatening to break free. Like me.
I tugged at the collar of my leather jacket, the same one I'd worn the night before, and adjusted the dark cap sitting low over my braided head. The sunglasses hid the spark of nerves that hadn't left my eyes since sunrise.
My parents were out, as usual, To work which made my mission more possible.
I didn't have any actual boy clothes, so I'd improvised—oversized T-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of slightly baggy cargo pants and some slick shoes. The uniform was going to be given to us at the school anyway, so I didn't need much. Just my black and purple backpack with a few snacks, my phone, and, most importantly, the registration form.
Before leaving, I slipped quietly into my dad's office again. The room felt colder in the morning light, the smell of old paper stronger now. I knelt by the drawer I knew too well and pulled it open. His credit card—actually my credit card glinted faintly beneath a stack of files. It was technically under my name, loaded with money they swore was "for safety measures."So yeah, it was mine.
I slid it out carefully. I didn't know how much was on it. I didn't care.
Standing at the doorway, my bag hanging loosely over one shoulder, I looked back one last time. The house stood silent, neat, and still—its white walls glowing faintly in the morning sun. Sixteen years of rules, imprisonment, and polite confinement.
If I were the old me, I wouldn't have made it this far. I would've backed down before even trying. But now, after knowing what freedom felt like, I couldn't go back. I wasn't going to go back. I just couldn't.
I opened the front door and stepped outside. The air was cool against my face. My phone screen lit up in my hand—the bus stop was only twenty minutes away, so I began walking.
The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that hums softly rather than screams. People walked by, glancing at me weirdly, Maybe it was the jacket, maybe the cap—or maybe it was my eyes. My green eyes. They were too obvious, too distracting, too unusual.
I should've worn brown contacts, I thought, tightening my grip on the bag strap.
The trees swayed gently along the sidewalks, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Some were bright green, others painted with pink and purple flowers that fluttered like confetti. It was the season of harvest after all. January had that effect here. The neighborhood felt so calm, so peaceful—it almost made me hesitate a bit. I couldn't believe this is what I was missing my whole life.
I reached the bus stop and sat down on the wooden bench, tapping my fingers against my knee. The closer I was to leaving, the more my stomach twisted. I was so close… yet doubt began creeping in, whispering all the ways this could go wrong.
I pulled out my phone and texted.
Me: Luhle, I don't think I can go through with this (⊙_◎)
The reply came fast.
Luhle: Girl! I knew you wouldn't be that brave 😭 But you can't turn back now, can you?
Me: Yeah… the bus is almost here.
Luhle: Do you really want to do this??
I froze, staring at her message. My reflection in the phone's screen looked uncertain, small. If I went back home now, I'd probably grow old in that house—safe, obedient, unseen. I'd never know what freedom actually felt like.
I typed back, fingers trembling slightly.
Me: Yeah. I really want to do this.
Luhle: Then go get it, girl. I know I'm a bad friend—I should be talking you out of this, but I'm not…
Me: You did try, so you're good 😚
Luhle: I guess I am. Please don't get hurt or lost or kidnapped, okay?! I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you.
Me: I promise ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧
Luhle: Love you loads, babe ♥
I smiled, a small, shaky one, then sighed. "It'll be okay," I whispered to myself. "It has to be."
The rumble of an engine snapped me out of it. A large bus pulled up, its metal sides glinting under the sun. Henvely Boys High was painted neatly across it in dark blue letters.
This was it.
The bus stopped right in front of me. The doors opened with a hiss, and I felt my pulse quicken. I took a deep breath, slung my bag over my shoulder, and climbed the steps.
"Take a seat, kid," the driver said—a gruff old man with a thick mustache, an umkhaba (big belly) and tired eyes. He looked like he'd seen too many mornings like this.
I nodded, mumbling a "thanks," and moved down the narrow aisle. The bus was already half full—rows of boys scattered in seats, headphones on, faces lit by their phones.
They weren't what I expected. Not loud or messy or immature. They looked… composed. Cool in their cargo pants and jackets, calm in their silence.
Not nerds. Not maniacs. Just ordinary boys—each one wrapped in their own world.
I walked slowly down the narrow aisle, aware of a few pairs of eyes following me. Probably because of my eyes — the green ones that always stood out too much. My stomach twisted; I needed to find a seat before I threw up in front of everyone.
Then, from a few rows ahead, a boy waved enthusiastically at me.
He had the geekiest glasses I'd ever seen and an afro bigger than mine — which was saying something. His outfit was… something else. A bright jacket splashed with random colors, cargo pants with a dangling chain, and a backpack completely plastered with stickers. Huge headphones rested on top of his hair like a crown.
Every other seat seemed taken, so I made my way toward him and sat down.
"Uh… hi," I said carefully, trying not to sound awkward.
"Hey! The name's Chris Chang," he said, striking a pose like he was in the middle of a photo shoot.
"Chris Chang?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yup. That's my celebrity name. You know — for when I become famous and stuff." He grinned proudly.
"Ah-huh." I nodded slowly, unconvinced.
"I'm serious! One day, you'll see me on TV, rapping right next to Eminem."
"Eminem? Sure," I said dryly. "Can't wait to see that."
"You'll see," he said, leaning closer. "Wanna hear how good I am?"
"Uh, I don't think that's nec—"
Too late.
"♪ Come ma baby, come, come ma baby. Let's dance to the dawn, suga ma baby! ♪"
He started rapping — loudly. Painfully loudly. Every boy in the bus turned to look… and then quickly looked away. My soul tried to crawl out of my body.
"♪ Me and Eminem, we ridin' P&M's, with a label 'B' baby, na suga, suga baby, uh yeah! ♪"
Chris ended with a confident grin, clearly proud of himself.
I blinked. Once. Twice. I was speechless — not because I liked it, but because I was still recovering.
"You're so quiet," he said smugly. "left you speechless huh? It's okay, my mama says I'll be famous one day. I'll even give you my autograph for free. How was it though?"
I forced a smile. "It was…"Horrible! Never rap ever again!," ...original."
"Thanks," he said brightly, completely missing the sarcasm. Then he squinted at me. "Uh… why do you sound like a girl?"
I froze for a second, my heart skipping a beat. Then I coughed — hard.
"I have a… flu," I said quickly. "It messes with my voice. Makes it sound squeaky."
"Ahh, alright," he said, already shrugging it off. "So what's your name, flu guy?"
"Ashl—uu," I caught myself mid-word, nearly slipping.
"Ashl-uu?" he repeated, frowning.
I cleared my throat again. "No, I meant Ash. Ash Zion."
"Cool name," Chris said with a nod. "You doing your final year At Henvely?"
I froze again. Final year? I hadn't even checked what grade I was supposed to be in. Back home, Ash was meant to be in his final year… but I had no clue what that meant here.
"My… final year?" I echoed, trying to make it sound natural.
"Nice! Me too," he said, grinning. "Can't wait to finish school and focus on music full time."
"Ah-huh. You'd make a… very unique musician. Maybe try backstage?" I said, unable to resist.
"No way," he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "This face deserves the spotlight."
I shook my head lightly, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. Wow… This boy, he is something else. So proud. So sure of his dreams.
Dreams.
The word lingered in my mind.
What was mine? My goal? My purpose?
For a moment, I couldn't find an answer. Just silence — and the hum of the bus beneath us.