Strings Between Us

Chapter One Chicago Mornings

Incipit

Keisha hated mornings.

Especially the ones when her alarm didn’t go off—or maybe she just ignored it, buried under the blankets until her mom’s voice cut through the thin walls of their South Side apartment.

“Keisha! Get up, you’re late again!”

She groaned, pulled the pillow over her head, and wished for five more minutes of sleep. But school didn’t care about wishes, and neither did volleyball practice. With a frustrated sigh, she jumped out of bed, throwing on the first pair of jeans she found and a sweatshirt that still smelled faintly of yesterday’s gym. The whole apartment carried the warm scent of fried plantains her mother had cooked for breakfast, but Keisha barely had time to grab a piece of toast before sprinting out the door.

Chicago in the morning was cold and loud, the wind slapping against her face as she hurried down the street. Her backpack thumped against her shoulder, and somewhere in the rush, she thought: Fifteen years old and already living in fast forward.

At school, the hallways buzzed with voices, lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking on linoleum floors. Keisha’s two best friends, Marisol and Tasha, spotted her rushing in and immediately started laughing.

“You’re late again, girl,” Marisol teased, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

“Coach gonna kill you,” Tasha added, grinning.

Keisha rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. Save the lecture.”

The three of them walked toward class together, weaving through the crowd. Marisol was already whispering about some boy from math class, and Tasha, as always, brought up her favorite topic: soulmates.

“You know what I read?” Tasha said, eyes sparkling. “In Japan, they believe in a red string of fate. It connects you to your soulmate, no matter where they are in the world. Imagine that your person could be anywhere.”

Keisha laughed out loud. “Girl, please. You sound like some cheesy Netflix drama. Ain’t nobody out there tied to me by some invisible string.”

“But what if?” Marisol asked, her tone suddenly serious. “What if yours is, like, in another country right now? Waiting?”

Keisha shook her head, shoving open her locker. “If he’s in another country, then I guess I’ll never know. And that’s fine. I’ve got volleyball, school, and enough drama right here.”

Still, when she closed the locker and caught her own reflection in the dented metal, something flickered in her chest. Curiosity. Just for a second. Then she pushed it away.

Keisha didn’t know it yet, but far away, on an island she’d never even visited, a boy her age was also running late. Different language, different dreams, but the same restless energy in his chest.

And though they didn’t know each other, an invisible thread had already begun to tighten.