DIGITS OF THE HEART

📘Chapter 2: Digits and Doubts

The fair had ended, but Harizon Ochieng’s mind was still tangled in the moment. He sat on the edge of his dorm bed, the folded scrap of paper resting in his palm like a fragile promise.

He unfolded it slowly. The digits stared back at him, ten numbers, written in neat, slanted handwriting. He pulled out his phone, fingers trembling slightly, and typed them in.

Call failed. Number does not exist.

He frowned. Tried again. Same result.

Harizon stared at the screen, heart sinking. Was it a mistake? A prank? Or worse, had Clarion given him a fake number on purpose?

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of the day faded into a dull hum. The purifier had earned praise. Teachers had nodded. But none of it mattered now. His thoughts were stuck on one thing: her.

“Maybe I misread it,” he muttered, sitting up and checking the paper again. He tried swapping a 6 for an 8. Still nothing.

He considered texting Diana or Jojo; but he didn’t have their contacts either. And asking around would make him look desperate. Or worse, foolish.

🧠 Meanwhile, at Ogande Girls…

Clarion Harriet sat cross-legged on her dorm bed, her phone charging beside her. Diana was sprawled across the mattress, scrolling through photos from the fair. Jojo was writing in her notebook, humming softly.

“So… did you give him your number?” Diana asked, not looking up.

“I did,” Clarion replied, then paused. “I think.”

Jojo looked up. “You think?”

“I was rushing. I might’ve written the wrong digits.”

Diana snorted. “Classic. You finally meet a guy who’s not a walking ego, and you give him a ghost number.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Clarion said, defensive. “I liked him. He was… different.”

Jojo smiled. “He was nervous. But honest.”

“Exactly,” Clarion said. “He didn’t try to impress. He just showed up.”

Diana rolled onto her side. “Well, if he really wants to find you, he’ll figure it out.”

Clarion frowned. “I hope he does.”

📱 Back at Wang’apala…

Harizon stared at the paper one last time, then tucked it into his physics textbook. He wasn’t angry. Just confused. And maybe a little hurt.

But something inside him refused to give up.

“She said to show up,” he whispered. “Maybe that’s the answer.”

He grabbed his hoodie, slipped on his sneakers, and headed out. The poetry slam was starting in less than an hour. He didn’t know if she’d be there. He didn’t know if she’d even remember him.

But he was going to show up.

Because sometimes, the best things happen when you just do.