DIGITS OF THE HEART

📘Chapter 1: The Science Fair Spark and Introduction

The sun hung low over Homabay, casting golden streaks across the dusty school compound of Wang’apala High. The air buzzed with anticipation; today was the county science fair, and Harizon Ochieng had just finished setting up his project: a solar-powered water purifier built from scrap metal, old phone parts, and a salvaged M-KOPA battery.

He stood beside his booth, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves rolled up, watching students and judges drift past. His invention wasn’t flashy, but it worked. And more importantly, it mattered.

He glanced at the other booths, some had sleek posters, blinking LEDs, even QR codes. Harizon’s setup was raw, almost rugged. But it had soul. It had purpose.

Across the field, a burst of laughter erupted from the Ogande Girls tent. Harizon’s eyes drifted over instinctively. There she was. Clarion Harriet. He’d seen her once before at a regional debate, where she’d dismantled an opponent’s argument with poetic precision and a cheeky grin. Today, she was presenting a project on plant-based bioplastics, her braids bouncing as she gestured passionately to a group of judges.

Harizon’s stomach did a weird flip.

He turned back to his booth, pretending to adjust a wire that didn’t need adjusting. But Clarion had already noticed him.

“Is that a purifier?” she asked, walking over with the confidence of someone who didn’t wait for permission.

Harizon nodded, suddenly aware of how dry his throat felt. “Yeah. It runs on solar. Good for places without clean water access.”

Clarion leaned in, inspecting the setup. “Smart. You built this yourself?”

“Mostly. My sister helped solder the circuit board. She’s ten.”

Clarion laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. She’s got steadier hands than me.”

Clarion raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You know, most guys I meet at these things just talk about wires and voltage. You talk about impact.”

Harizon shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Voltage doesn’t matter if no one’s drinking clean water.”

She smiled, and for a moment, the fair faded into a blur of background noise. Harizon noticed the way her eyes scanned everything—curious, calculating, but kind.

“You’re Harizon, right?” she asked.

He blinked. “How’d you know?”

“I remember you from the debate. You asked that question about tech and ethics. It stuck.”

Harizon felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Didn’t think anyone remembered that.”

“I did,” she said, then glanced toward her booth. A judge was waving her over.

She turned to go, then paused.

“Hey, after the fair, there’s a poetry slam at the community center. You should come.”

Harizon hesitated. “I don’t really do poetry.”

Clarion smiled. “You build things that save lives. That’s poetry.”

And just like that, she was gone.

The fair continued, but Harizon’s mind was elsewhere. He replayed the moment again and again, wondering if he’d imagined the connection. Wondering if she’d even remember him by evening.

Later, during lunch break, Harizon stepped into the dining hall, tray in hand, scanning for a familiar face. The room was alive with chatter, the clatter of spoons and laughter echoing off the walls. Then he saw her, Clarion, seated at a table near the window, sunlight catching the beads in her braids. She waved.

He hesitated for half a second, then walked over.

“You made it,” Clarion said, scooting over to make space. “Come sit.”

Harizon slid into the seat, suddenly aware of the two girls flanking her. One was tall and radiant, her lip gloss catching the light like a signal flare. The other was smaller, glasses perched delicately on her nose, scribbling something in a notebook.

“Harizon, meet my girls,” Clarion said with a grin. “This is Diana; she’s the one who thinks she’s Beyoncé. And Jojo to mean Josephine; our resident poet.”

Diana raised an eyebrow, sizing him up.

“So you’re the genius with the purifier,” she said, voice smooth but sharp. “You look taller than you did at the booth.”

“Maybe science boosts posture,” Harizon replied, trying to sound cool but feeling his ears warm.

Jojo looked up from her notebook and smiled softly.

“I liked your presentation,” she said. “You explained it like you actually cared.”

Harizon nodded, grateful for the kindness.

“Thanks. I do. It’s not just a project, it’s something I want to build for real.”

Clarion leaned in, her voice low.

“Told you he’s not just another show-off.”

Diana rolled her eyes but smirked.

“We’ll see.”

The conversation flowed from there; bits of gossip, jokes about the judges, and debates over which school had the best chapati. Harizon felt the tension ease, the table becoming less intimidating and more like a circle he might belong to.

At one point, Clarion nudged him with her elbow.

“So, you coming to the poetry slam later?”

“Still thinking about it,” Harizon said. “Poetry’s not really my thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she replied. “Just come. You might surprise yourself.”

Diana leaned in, teasing. “Or maybe he’s scared of metaphors.”

“I’m not scared,” Harizon said, smirking. “I just prefer wires to words.”

Jojo chuckled. “Sometimes words are the wires that connect people.”

Harizon glanced at Clarion. “That sounds like something you’d say.”

“She stole it from me,” Clarion said, grinning.

The lunch break was winding down. Students began clearing trays, heading back to their booths. Clarion reached into her bag, pulled out a pen, and tore a piece from Jojo’s notebook.

“Here,” she said, scribbling quickly. “My number. In case you decide to show up tonight.”

Harizon took the paper, folding it carefully and slipping it into his pocket like it was something sacred.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard,” she replied, standing up. “Sometimes the best things happen when you just show up.”

As she walked away with Diana and Jojo, Harizon sat there for a moment, staring at the folded paper. Something about the moment felt electric, like the beginning of a story he hadn’t planned to write.

He didn’t know yet that the number was wrong.

But he knew one thing for sure: Clarion Harriet had just changed the rhythm of his day and maybe the direction of his heart.