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I’m honour of Pride Month, A Sapphic Love Story Between an Alte Girl and a Pastor’s Daughter.

Kem had three things on her mind as she walked back to the hostel under the blazing hot sun: roll a blunt, sneak it into the chapel, and smoke it, then head to the cafeteria to eat—just enough to dull the scent on her breath.

The school had made it compulsory for every student to join a chapel team, and somehow she ended up in the choir. She hated it. The only comfort was the thought of getting high afterward. It gave her something to look forward to. A smirk tugged on her face as she walked.

Most other chapel units started practice an hour later, but not hers. The choir mistress, who unfortunately happened also to be her roommate, had gone out of her way to request longer sessions from the authorities. Kem didn’t understand why.

What a stupid babe, Kem thought, as she walked.

x x x

It was the sound of loud prayers that met Kem when she got to her room. The room was filled with fast clapping and voices layered in overlapping tongues. Her roommate and a few of her friends had formed a circle in their room, deep in what they called fellowship.

Kem paused briefly at the door, hissed heavily, then walked in without a word. She dropped her bag by the bed, pulled out a packet wrapped in black nylon from beneath it, and walked out again, her face set in irritation.

She muttered something under her breath as the door closed behind her.

KAMSY

I still can’t believe she just walked out like that, without saying a single word. But that’s Kem. That’s what she does.

There’s something about her that gets under my skin. From the moment she moved into our room, she barely said a word to anyone. Always in black. Always with those heavy headphones on, like the rest of us don’t exist. She carries herself like she’s above it all—like she doesn’t owe anyone anything.

The one time I tried to talk to her, I invited her to join my fellowship. She looked at me, dead in the eye, and said, “I don’t believe in God.” Then she plugged her earphones back in and turned to face the wall.

That was it. That was all.

I decided that day she must be possessed or something. What kind of girl dresses like that, wears makeup that looks like war paint, and walks around in silence like she’s a ghost?

But if I’m being honest, I think about her more than I should. And sometimes, I even go out of my way to make her talk.

I’d turn on the light in the middle of the night, knowing she hates it. I’d pray louder than necessary and speak in tongues until my throat hurt, just to hear her complain. But she never reacted. Not once.

I told myself I hated her. But something in me just wanted… something. A response. A word. A spark. I don’t know what exactly. I’m not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out.

The last time I tried to trigger her, I sat on her bed and waited for her to come in. I wanted her to be angry—angry enough to yell at me so I could finally say all the things I’d been holding in.

She came in and just stood there. She didn’t say a word. Just lifted her hand, gesturing for me to get up. I ignored her. Then she walked over and stood right in front of me, looking down, staring.

Not speaking. Just staring.

There was something about the way her eyes, lined in black, looked at me. Like she could see right through my act. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe properly.

I grabbed my wrapper and got off her bed without saying a word.

I saw something in her eyes that day. I still don’t know what it was, but it scared me.

I haven’t tried that stunt again.

x x x

If there was one thing Kamsy hated about choir practice, it was having to sing Amazing Grace at the top of her voice. Everything else, she loved.

She loved being the choir mistress, the one people turned to, the one who made the rules. She loved how decisions were hers to make, how the team moved when she said so. Everyone listened. Everyone, except Kem.

Kem was the only one who never bowed to her. She questioned everything. She made choir practice difficult, not just for Kamsy, but for everyone. And yet, no one understood why she kept showing up. Kem hated the choir, hated chapel, and hated the school. Still, she came. And after every session, she always had something to say. comments, suggestions, and little critiques. Kamsy tried her best to ignore.

But not today.

“Madam, it’s Lent,” Kem said. Her voice was calm, not loud but impossible to ignore. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to sing a Lenten hymn? Something familiar. Instead of learning a new song in a language none of us speaks fluently.”

Kamsy turned sharply to face her. Before she could respond, she heard the low rumble of agreement spread across the room. They weren’t agreeing because Kem was right. They were agreeing because it meant less effort.

Kamsy straightened. “If you know so much, why don’t you come to the front and lead everyone?”

She said it, expecting silence.

Kem hated attention. She avoided the spotlight, stayed out of conversations in the hostel, and barely acknowledged the three other girls in their room. But then—she stood up.

Slowly.

She walked toward the front, her steps steady at first, then slower—like she was second-guessing herself. But she didn’t stop. She kept going until she stood next to Kamsy.

Kem was taller. She looked down and asked, calmly, for the speaker.

Something shifted.

Kamsy, stunned, handed her the hymn book and the microphone without a word. And in that moment—looking up at Kem, her hand brushing against hers—something tightened low in her stomach.

There were details she’d never noticed before. Kem’s eyes. It was sharp, distant. The eyeliner Kamsy had always thought was black was a deep blue, glinting with tiny flecks of glitter. It caught the light as she blinked, making her cold stare shimmer in a way Kamsy couldn’t explain.

For the first time, she realised there was a lot she didn’t know.

To be continued…