SIXTEEN

Everyone said sixteen was supposed to feel different. I waited until midnight to find out. At 11:58 p.m., I was sitting on the floor beside my bed, staring at the clock on my phone. 11:59. I held my breath. 12:00. My phone immediately started vibrating. Messages. Notifications. Birthday wishes. For a few seconds, I just stared at the screen. Sixteen. I had been waiting for this birthday for months. When I was thirteen, sixteen sounded impossibly old. At thirteen, I thought sixteen-year-olds had everything figured out. They knew what they wanted to study, who their real friends were, what they believed in and where they were going. Apparently, nobody had told sixteen-year-old me that I was supposed to know any of that. My best friend Zara called before I could reply to anyone. “Happy birthday!” she screamed. I laughed. “You’re the first person to call me.” “Obviously. Who else would it be?” I smiled. For a moment, everything felt perfect. I didn’t know then that by the end of the year, Zara and I wouldn’t even be speaking. I didn’t know that my family would have conversations I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t know that some friendships would end, some would begin, and some would turn into something I never expected. Most importantly, I didn’t know that sixteen wasn’t going to give me answers. It was going to give me questions. A lot of them. “Are you still there?” Zara asked. “Yeah.” “You went quiet.” “I’m just thinking.” “At midnight on your birthday?” “Apparently.” She laughed. “You’re sixteen now. You’re officially old.” “Shut up.” “I’m serious. You’re basically an adult.” I looked around my room. My unfinished homework was on my desk. A pile of clothes sat on the chair I’d promised myself I would clean two days ago. My school bag was lying open on the floor, and there was a half-eaten packet of biscuits beside my pillow. “Yeah,” I said. “Very adult.” Zara laughed again. We stayed on the phone for another twenty minutes, talking about absolutely nothing. That was the thing about Zara. With everyone else, I always felt like I had to think before I spoke. With her, I could say anything. We had been friends since our first year of secondary school. Back then, she had walked up to me during lunch, taken one of my biscuits without asking and announced that we were going to be friends. She had been right. “Okay,” she said eventually. “You need to sleep.” “I know.” “And don’t forget tomorrow.” “Forget what?” “Our plan.” I frowned. “What plan?” “The list!” “Oh.” “You forgot already?” “I didn’t forget.” “You definitely forgot.” “I was going to remember.” “That’s not how remembering works.” I laughed. We had made the list two weeks earlier. Twenty things we wanted to do before we finished secondary school. Some were serious. Some were completely ridiculous. And some were things we had written down simply because they sounded fun at the time. “I’ll bring it tomorrow,” I promised. “You better.” “I will.” “Goodnight, birthday girl.” “Goodnight.” The call ended. I placed my phone beside me and stared at the ceiling. Sixteen. I wondered what the year would look like. Would I finally become more confident? Would I figure out what I wanted to do after school? Would I still be friends with Zara? Would I meet someone? That last thought made me laugh. As if. I rolled over and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was Monday. And Monday meant school. My alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. I opened one eye. Then closed it again. Five minutes later, Mum knocked on my door. “Amara!” “I’m awake!” “You’ve been awake for five minutes?” “Yes.” “Then get out of bed.” I sighed. Sixteen had lasted approximately six hours. I was already tired. I dragged myself out of bed and walked to the bathroom. By the time I came downstairs, Mum was standing in the kitchen. She looked at me and smiled. “Happy birthday.” “Thank you.” She pulled me into a hug. For a second, I felt like a little girl again. Then she pulled away and looked at me properly. “You’re growing up.” I smiled awkwardly. “Everyone keeps saying that.” “Because it’s true.” She touched my hair. “Sixteen is important.” “Why?” “Because you’re getting closer to making decisions about your life.” There it was. The sentence I had been trying not to hear. My future. University. Medicine. Grades. Career. Everyone already seemed to know what my life was supposed to look like. Everyone except me. Mum handed me a plate. “Eat.” I sat down. “So,” she said, “your father and I were talking last night.” I stopped chewing. “About?” “Your future.” Of course. I swallowed. “What about it?” “You need to start taking your studies more seriously.” “I do.” “You say that every time.” “I really do.” Mum looked at me for a moment. “We’re not trying to pressure you, Amara. We just want you to have options.” I nodded. “I know.” But sometimes I wished everyone would stop telling me about my options long enough for me to figure out which ones I actually wanted. My phone buzzed. Zara: GET READY. I HAVE NEWS. I smiled. Finally. Something that wasn’t about my future. I typed back. Me: What news? Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Zara: I’ll tell you at school. I frowned. Me: Why can’t you tell me now? No reply. I stared at the screen. Something about the message felt strange. I just didn’t know why. ⸻ By 7:20, I was walking through the school gates. The morning was already loud. Students were everywhere, talking, laughing, rushing toward their classrooms before the bell rang. I spotted Zara almost immediately. She was standing near our classroom with Maya. I slowed down. Maya was new. She had joined our class a few weeks earlier, but she hadn’t really become part of our group. Not yet, anyway. Zara saw me and waved. “Birthday girl!” I walked over. “You said you had news.” “I do.” She looked at Maya. Then at me. Then back at Maya. Something was definitely happening. “What?” Zara grinned. “You’re going to love this.” Before I could ask another question, the bell rang. Everyone started moving. Zara grabbed my arm. “Come on.” We walked into class together. I had no idea that the news Zara was about to tell me would be the first c***k in the life I thought I knew. And I definitely didn’t know that by the end of the week, I would wish she’d never told me.