the new boy

It was the kind of Monday morning that made Ayanda Mokoena wish she could fake a stomach ache. The Johannesburg summer sun was already blazing, baking the school courtyard like a giant oven tray. Ayanda, balancing on her white platform sneakers, flipped her braids and sighed, tapping her glittery pink nails against her phone screen. "Girl, you look like you're about to walk a fashion runway, not go to class," TJ said, leaning against the railing with a grin. His school shirt was already half untucked, and his tie looked like it had fought with a lion. Ayanda smirked. “That’s because I am. This corridor? That’s my runway.” Students buzzed around Jozi High, returning after a two-week spring break. The gossip was flowing, the air thick with heat and drama. Everyone looked sun-kissed and over it already. Ayanda adjusted her beaded bracelet, scanning the crowd like she was searching for someone to impress. She didn’t know who yet—just someone. “Is it true?” TJ asked, lowering his voice. “That we’re getting a new student today? From Durban or something?” Ayanda shrugged. “Why would I care? New kid, old story. They’ll worship me in two weeks or hide in the library.” TJ chuckled. “You sound cocky.” “I’m not cocky. I’m honest.” She smirked. “Also, gorgeous. That helps.” Then it happened. The hallway fell into a strange hush—one of those slow-motion silences that only happened in movies and weird dreams. Ayanda turned, curious, and saw him. He stepped in wearing the standard school uniform, but somehow made the stiff grey blazer look effortlessly cool. His shirt was tucked in properly, top button fastened. Neat. Clean. He had a black camera bag slung across one shoulder and air pods in his ears. Tall, light brown skin, soft curly hair cropped at the sides but wild on top, and eyes so dark they almost looked like ink. Ayanda’s lips parted slightly. “Who’s that?” she asked, more to herself than to TJ. “No idea,” TJ answered, watching him too. “Looks like a model or some sh*t.” As if feeling the stares, the boy pulled one air pod out and glanced around. His eyes locked with Ayanda’s for a heartbeat—just long enough for her breath to catch. But then he looked away. Just like that. No smile. No nod. Nothing. Ayanda blinked, offended. “Okay. Rude.” TJ burst out laughing. “You’re mad because he didn’t simp for you?” “No, I’m mad because he stared at me like I was... nothing.” “Maybe he’s blind. Or gay.” “Shut up, TJ.” As the new boy walked past them, Ayanda turned and called out, “Hey! New guy!” He paused. Slowly. Turned around. Raised a brow. Ayanda stepped forward, confidence wrapped around her like a designer jacket. “You lost or something?” He looked at her, really looked this time, then answered with the calmest tone imaginable. “No. Just avoiding unnecessary conversations.” Ayanda’s mouth dropped. TJ wheezed. “I like to stay focused,” the boy added. “You should try it sometime.” Then he walked off. Not hurried. Not smug. Just... done with her. TJ looked at Ayanda with wide eyes. “Oh hell. He just murdered you.” “I—he—what?” Ayanda fumed. “Who the hell does he think he is?” TJ patted her shoulder. “Somebody immune to your magic, apparently.” Ayanda didn’t say anything. But in her mind, something clicked. Not hurt. Not even embarrassed. Challenged. And Ayanda Mokoena never backed down from a challenge. ---