CHAPTER FIVE

June

When Kim, Seline, and Mary approached June after class, she expected confrontation-another round of whispered accusations or cold stares. Instead, she found herself facing a quiet, urgent invitation. They told her everything: their investigation into the Order, the secrets they’d uncovered, and the risks they were willing to take. As June listened, a storm of emotions churned inside her-anger, shame, and something sharper: a hunger for justice.

Memories flooded back. June remembered the late nights as a prefect, when her phone buzzed with encrypted messages and secret summons. She’d been trusted with access to exclusive group chats, hidden forums, and the Order’s digital underworld. She’d known the meeting spots-the storerooms, the library’s forgotten alcoves, the old science lab after dark. She’d watched as the Order twisted her prefect authority, turning it into a tool for manipulation and control.

Now, stripped of her title and reputation, June felt the sting of betrayal more keenly than ever. But as Kim, Seline, and Mary spoke, she realized she was being offered something she hadn’t dared hope for: a way to fight back. Revenge simmered in her chest, but it was more than that. This was a chance to reclaim her agency, to turn the Order’s own networks against them.

June sat cross-legged on the floor of Seline’s small office at the journalism room, her old prefect badge lying between them like a relic from another life. Kim and Mary leaned in, notebooks open, pens poised. The air buzzed with a nervous energy that felt almost electric.

“We need to know what the Order is planning next,” Kim said, voice hushed. “If we’re going to stay ahead, we can’t just react anymore.”

June nodded, her fingers tracing the faded edges of her badge. “There’s a group chat they use for urgent stuff. It’s called ‘Study Partners,’ but it’s just a cover. I know at least three people who are still in it. If I send a message, I can see who’s online and maybe even bait them into revealing something.”

Her fingers hovered over her phone, the familiar buzz of risk thrumming in her veins. She remembered how it used to be, back when she was a prefect and the rules about phones were ironclad: no devices during the day, phones checked in at the front office or zipped away in lockers, random bag checks in the halls. But the Order always found a way around it.

She’d learned the tricks early. Phones slipped into the secret pocket sewn inside her blazer, or tucked inside a hollowed-out deodorant stick in her gym bag. Sometimes, the boys would pass their phones through a gap in the fence during morning sports, collecting them again at lunch. There was always someone on lookout-usually a junior desperate to prove themselves-ready to whistle if a teacher came down the corridor.

The Order ran it like a covert operation. If someone needed to make a call or check a message, they’d create a distraction-a spilled bottle in the cafeteria, a staged argument in the hallway-while another member ducked into the bathrooms or the old storage room near the science lab. June remembered how she’d once slipped her phone into a library book, the pages hollowed out just enough to hide the device. She’d felt clever, powerful, untouchable.

Now, as she prepared to use those same tactics with Kim, Seline, and Mary, June felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The very system she’d helped perfect was about to be turned against the Order. She glanced at her new friends, then back at her phone, ready to slip another message through the cracks. The rules hadn’t changed, but her allegiance had.

For the first time, the secrets weren’t just hers to keep-they were hers to use.

Mary’s eyes widened. “Can you get us in?”

“I can’t add you directly,” June replied, “but I can screenshot everything. If I say I’m worried about the teachers watching us after the cheating scandal, they’ll start talking. They always do when they’re scared.”

Seline tapped her pen against her notebook. “What about meetings? How do they call people together so fast?”

June smiled, a little bitterly. “There’s a code we used to use. If someone posts a certain emoji-three chess pieces-in the chat, it means there’s a meeting in the old science lab. If it’s three books, it’s the library. I can watch for those and let you know.”

Kim scribbled this down, then looked up. “Can you plant something? Like, suggest that Mercy is getting nervous? If they think she’s about to betray them, they might start fighting among themselves.”

June considered this, then nodded. “I can do better. I’ll drop a hint that Mercy’s been meeting with one of the teachers after hours. That’ll get them talking. Juma’s always been suspicious of her anyway.”

Mary leaned forward, excitement flickering in her eyes. “And if you hear anything about the next initiation, let us know. If we can warn the new recruits or catch them in the act, we’ll have proof.”

June’s fingers flew over her phone as she drafted a message, her heart pounding. For the first time, she wasn’t just reacting-she was setting things in motion. She glanced at the other girls, saw the trust and determination in their faces, and felt a surge of belonging.

“Okay,” she said, hitting send. “Let’s see what happens next.”

The girls bent over their notebooks, plotting out next moves: who would watch the library, who would check the science lab, who would keep an eye on the prefects’ office. June watched as their plan took shape, her old-world colliding with the new. For the first time, she felt like she was exactly where she belonged-on the inside, but finally on the right side.

**********

The Order thrived on secrets, but secrets could be twisted. Kim realized it first: if the right rumor fell into the right ears, it could change the entire shape of the game. Misinformation, she said, could be as sharp as any confession.

So, they started small. Mary, who still had Juma’s trust, became their messenger. The girls would meet in shadowed corners of the library or behind the gym, whispering over their notebooks, plotting which truths to bend and which lies to let loose. Sometimes, it was a half-heard conversation about the journalism club sniffing around a minor Order member. Other times, it was a “forgotten” note left where it was sure to be found.

Each leak was deliberate, calculated. The goal wasn’t just to confuse Juma and Jabari, but to make them look the wrong way at the right moment. As the rumors began to ripple through the Order’s ranks, the girls watched the tension rise, knowing that every misdirection bought them more time-and a little more power

Mary couldn’t see the runner on the other side of the wall. She didn’t need to. The banyan tree’s thick roots and tangled branches created the perfect blind spot, shielding the narrow strip of ground from the security camera’s unblinking eye. It was the kind of place you learned to notice if you spent enough time watching how things moved in the school-how secrets traveled, how rules bent.

She crouched by the tree, pretending to tie her shoe, and slipped the folded note into a crumpled snack wrapper. Her hands shook, just a little, as she pressed it into the damp earth at the base of the trunk. Timing was everything. The maintenance crew would be coming through soon, sweeping up leaves and litter. One of them-a Form Two boy Mary had never spoken to directly-had been tipped off through a chain of whispered favors. If he found anything “interesting” by the banyan after lunch, he was to pocket it and pass it along.

Mary straightened, dusted her hands on her skirt, and walked away without looking back. She didn’t dare linger. Instead, she circled the courtyard, heart thumping, and waited for the signal: a single green checkmark emoji on her phone, sent by a friend who could see the boy from the upstairs window. The message came just as the bell rang for afternoon classes.

Relief and triumph mingled in her chest. On the other side of the wall, Juma would find the wrapper-inside, the note, just as planned. It was enough to send him and Jabari chasing after shadows, far from the girls’ real plans.

Walls, Mary thought, could keep people apart. But secrets had a way of slipping through the cracks-if you knew where to look, and how to trust the right hands.

Mercy

Mercy settled into the high-backed chair behind her desk, the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds and casting golden stripes across the polished surface. The student council office was her domain-a space that hummed with quiet authority, filled with neatly stacked files and the faint scent of printer ink. Seline sat across from her, notebook open, flipping through pages with a look of feigned confusion that Mercy recognized all too well.

She watched Seline for a moment, then tapped her pen thoughtfully against the desk. “The key to managing people is making them feel heard,” Mercy said, her tone gentle but assured. 

“Even when you know what’s best, let them think it was their idea.” She saw Seline nod, scribbling dutifully, her pen hovering as if she were absorbing every word.

When Seline admitted her worry about being too direct, Mercy allowed herself a small, pleased smile. This was where her influence mattered most: shaping young leaders, smoothing their rough edges, teaching them the art of subtlety and consensus. 

“That’s why you have me,” she reassured, leaning forward slightly, lowering her voice so it felt like a secret shared. “I’ll help you smooth the rough edges.”

Mercy’s mind was always two steps ahead. She reminded Seline, quietly but firmly, about the cover story for last night’s meeting. “If anyone asks, say it was just a study group. No need to complicate things.” 

She watched for Seline’s reaction, pleased to see only calm acceptance and a careful note in the margin.

As the conversation drew to a close, Mercy stood and walked around the desk, pausing to squeeze Seline’s shoulder-a gesture of encouragement, but also a subtle reminder of who held the reins. 

“You’re a natural, Seline. You just need the right guidance.”

After Seline left, Mercy lingered in the quiet office, a familiar satisfaction settling over her. She had steered the conversation, reinforced her authority, and ensured the council’s secrets remained safe. Seline still looked to her as a mentor, and Mercy intended to keep it that way for as long as she could. In the delicate dance of student council politics, Mercy knew how to maintain control-one conversation, one careful lesson at a time.

As Mercy gathered her things and swept out of the room, Seline let out a slow breath. She reviewed her notes, every word and gesture fresh in her mind. Mercy still believed she was in control, the wise mentor leading her protégé. But Seline could feel the balance shifting-one conversation, one careful observation at a time.

Soon, she promised herself. Soon, the truth would come out.

******

Exposing the stolen exams wasn’t just about catching them red-handed-it was about proving to ourselves, and everyone else, that we didn’t have to accept the way things were. We could challenge the rules, even if it meant risking everything. That moment was when we stopped being bystanders and became something more: a team that could actually make a difference.

It was scary, and it definitely wasn’t easy. But it was the first time we saw what could happen when we stood up, together, and refused to let the truth stay hidden. And in that moment, we realized we had the power to change our own story.

The student council office was thick with the scent of old paper and floor polish, shadows creeping across the walls as the sun dipped lower outside. Mary knelt by the filing cabinet; her brow furrowed in concentration. Kim hovered at her shoulder, arms crossed, while Seline and June scanned the room for any sign they’d been followed.

Mary whispered, “The minutes always mention ‘special packets’ under ‘Library Projects.’ I think it’s a code. The real files have to be here.”

Kim nodded, her voice barely above a breath. “If we find anything with the exam dates, we photograph everything. No mistakes.”

June, flipping through a stack of folders on the desk, frowned. “Wait, look at this. These initials-J.K., A.O., M.N.-they match the Order’s roster. Why would their names be on a project list?”

Kim pulled out the list and read aloud, “Jemima Karanja, Anita Otieno, MaryAnne Njoroge. All Order members.”

Mary and June already know the names of the Order members. Their insider experience gave them direct access to the full roster. This means they didn’t have to piece together clues like outsiders would; instead, they used their firsthand knowledge to identify members and.

Seline leaned in; her eyes wide. “Why would only their initials be on a school project list?”

Mary’s voice was quiet but certain. “Because this isn’t a real project. It’s a cover. The Order’s using official paperwork to hide what they’re really doing.”

The girls exchanged a look of dawning realization. The initials weren’t random-they were a coded link, tying the Order directly to the suspicious activities they’d been investigating. With this connection, rumor became proof, and the stakes suddenly felt very real.

Seline, ever observant, knelt beside Mary. She tapped the back of the drawer. “There’s a gap here. Help me.” 

Together, they pried at the panel until it slid open with a soft click. Seline’s eyes widened as she pulled out a thick manila envelope.

Kim’s hands shook as she opened the envelope, revealing a stack of crisp exam papers, each stamped with next week’s date. “This is it,” she whispered, awed and horrified. “They’ve been stealing the exams.”

Mary scanned the top sheet, then pointed to a string of numbers in the corner. “That’s the code they used in the minutes. ‘Packet 17’-it’s this exact test. They’ve been distributing these as ‘study packets.”

June, voice trembling with excitement, added, “And this list-these are the students who got them. Every single one is in the Order.”

Seline snapped photos; her phone silent but for the faint click of the shutter. “We need to get this to the principal. Today.”

A tense silence fell as the girls’ exchanged glances. Kim finally spoke, her voice steady. “We do this together. No backing out now.”

Mary nodded, determination hardening her features. “We’re not just stopping them. We’re protecting everyone who never had a chance.”

They gathered the evidence, careful to leave everything as they’d found it. As they slipped out of the office, June squeezed Mary’s hand. “You were right. The truth matters.”

By midday, the school was a hive of whispers and sideways glances. The usual hum of lunchtime chatter was replaced by urgent, hushed conversations. Students clustered in tight circles by lockers and in the corners of the courtyard, their eyes flicking nervously toward the staff room and the council noticeboard.

The Order’s table in the cafeteria, once loud and confident, was half-empty. Those who remained sat stiffly, their voices low, their eyes on their trays. The generals were nowhere to be seen, even their lockers were left hanging open, contents hastily cleared out.

Teachers moved in pairs, their faces drawn and serious. The principal’s door stayed closed, but every so often, another student was called in. Some came out pale and silent; others, red-eyed and angry. The council’s iron grip had loosened overnight, and everyone could feel the shift.

Mercy, usually the center of every conversation, walked the halls alone. Her gaze was sharp, searching, but no one met her eyes. Even the teachers seemed wary, their greetings clipped and formal.

Rumors spread like wildfire. Some said the Order was infiltrated. Others whispered about secret evidence, anonymous tips, and a new investigation that would change everything. For the first time in years, students dared to hope that things might be different.

In the middle of it all, the four girls blended into the crowd. They watched the changes ripple outward: the empty seats, the uncertain faces, the sense that the old rules no longer applied. The school was holding its breath, waiting to see what would come next.