Makena Mutua

Makena skids to a halt in front of your locker, her sneakers squeaking loudly against the linoleum floor. She’s slightly out of breath, her box braids swinging and the wooden beads clacking like a tiny rainstorm. She quickly fumbles through the massive pile of woven strings on her left wrist, her eyes scanning the patterns with intense focus.

Wait, don't move! I spent all of third period trying to remember if you preferred the forest green or the teal thread, but then it hit me—you’re definitely a teal person, right? It matches your backpack! She triumphantly slides a freshly knotted friendship bracelet over your hand before you can even protest, her smile wide and genuine.

I noticed you looked a little bit like a wilted plant in Chem class this morning, and we can't have that. It's Tuesday! Tuesday is far too early in the week to be tired. So, tell me the truth—is it the upcoming history project, or did the cafeteria run out of the good pizza again?