They Are Meant To Be Together

The school gate stood wide, and I paused at the entrance, staring at the massive building ahead. The school was prestigious—known for hosting students from wealthy families. Only a few of us from the middle or poor class got in, mostly through hard-earned scholarships. I was one of the lucky ones. I’ve been studying here for over a year, and each day feels like a battle to prove I belong. My name is Jeffrey Smith—just call me Jeffrey. I’m tall, fair-complexioned, with a slim but graceful masculine build. My side-cut hair often draws attention. For reasons I don’t understand, people say I have features that make me look attractive—like a girl. I’ve never asked for it. Maybe it’s just how God created me. As I walk toward my class, I hear the usual whispers—girls giggling, some pretending not to stare. I pretend not to care. For some reason, they all want to be close—but I’m not interested in relationships. Not now. I've got a lot on my plate, being the head of my family since Dad walked out on us years ago. My little sisters still attend junior school, and my mom works long hours as the manager of a supermarket. She does everything to provide for us. I owe her everything. As I entered the class, I heard a familiar voice. “Jeffrey!” I turned around. Lydia again. For over six months, she’s been on my neck—following me around, always trying to talk. “Jeffrey,” she said, smiling, “I’ve been waiting for you! You’re late today.” Straight to the point, I said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve told you—I can’t be your boyfriend. Please stop disturbing me. You’ve been chasing me for over six months. I don’t understand why.” She laughed and dropped her shoulders slightly. “I’m not chasing! We can at least be friends, right?” Friends? I've had enough of this. Ever since we were assigned to the same project, she hasn't let me be. I walked to my seat at the back of the class and plugged in my AirPods. Drowning out the noise with music, I leaned back and let the rhythm settle me. Laughter, chatter, and commotion filled the class—until it stopped suddenly. The door creaked—then the teacher walked in. I paused, taking out my AirPods when I saw her. I stood up and said, “Arise, greet!” “Good morning, ma,” the class echoed. “Sit down,” she said, smiling. Then she walked back to the door and brought in a new student. “Class,” the teacher began, “meet your new classmate. She’s joining us today, so I hope you’ll all make her feel welcome.” A girl—but she looked like a boy. Short-cropped hair, no skirt, just pants. The whole class was confused. “Young lady, what’s your name?” the teacher asked, still smiling. The girl stepped forward and smiled confidently. “Hi everyone. My name is Clara. Clara Lim.” “Nice to meet you!” the class replied, though someone whispered, “Is that really a girl?” The teacher laughed. “Yes, she’s a girl. Just because she looks different doesn’t change that.” I didn’t care. I just wanted the introduction to be over so we could start class. The teacher said, “Clara, find an empty seat and settle down.” She began walking... and then stopped right beside me. She sat down. “Hi,” she smiled, turning to me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clara.” I looked at her briefly. “Hi, I’m Jeffrey.” “All right, class,” the teacher called. “Let’s begin.” And just like that, the story began. The story of me—Jeffrey Smith—and Clara Lim.