Chapter- 2 The Big City life

When Mom said I was going to study in the city, my first thought was- Finally, a place where I could eat noodles without someone shouting, It’s bad for your throat!

I was going to be in grade four now, and apparently, my bright little brain needed more space to grow. Dad said it like my head was a plant pot. But I didn’t argue- I’d seen enough movies where kids lived in big hostels, laughed with friends in bunk beds, and had adventures sneaking snacks after lights out. I was ready for that life.

The morning we left, I wore my best sneakers and carried a brand-new water bottle that still smelled like plastic. Grandma cried like I was moving to Mars, even though the city was just one day away.

"Don’t forget to eat properly," she sniffed.

I nodded half-listening, mostly trying to stop my bag from unzipping again.

"I’ll eat extra properly!" I promised.

Mom hugged me tighter than usual. "You’re going to love it," she said, though her voice trembled at the end. Dad was the calm one, like always. He handed me a packet of candies for emergencies.

"Candy is an emergency," I told him.

He laughed, "Exactly what I thought."

The drive to the city felt endless. The road went through fields and tiny shops until buildings started replacing trees. The air changed too- it smelled like wet concrete and fried things, not like home's mix of earth and soap.

When we reached the hostel gate, I pressed my face to the car window. It was taller than I expected painted beige white, with big windows and a playground that had exactly one swing working.

A woman in a green sweater walked toward us with a clipboard. She smiled in a tired-but-kind way.

"You must be our new student," she said to me. "Welcome to Hillcrest Junior."

I nodded, pretending not to be nervous. "Do you have movie nights?"

She blinked, then smiled wider. "Sometimes. Usually on Saturdays."

Score.

My room was on the second floor. Seven bunk beds and ten cupboards filled the room, with two large windows overlooking the bamboo forest and two small ventilation windows positioned directly opposite them.

The beds already had mattresses placed on them, so I started testing each one to find the comfiest and best. Only one bed has been chosen so far.

I lay on them one by one, skipping the ones that were stained, too hard, or too soft.

“Finally, this is it!” I squeaked with happiness. “I found my ideal bed -not too soft, not too hard.”

It was perfect- almost at the center, between the two big windows on the lower bunk. Not too dark, not too bright.

One of the girls came in her hair short, a wide smile and a presence that felt instantly welcoming. Her shiny tan skin was neither too light nor too dark, almost like my favorite milk chocolate. She was really sweet too, once again reminding me of that same milk chocolate.

“I’m Kimmy,” she said. “That’s my bed. Don’t touch my stickers.”

I grinned. “I’m not a sticker thief.”

We immediately clicked and became friends instantly.

The first night, I couldn’t sleep. The corridor lights stayed on, casting a yellow glow through the ventilation window. Somewhere, a fan squeaked in a slow rhythm. I turned and whispered, “Kimmy, you awake?”

She mumbled something about pizza and snored again.

I smiled into the dark. The room smelled like soap and someone’s lavender lotion. It didn’t feel like home yet, but it didn’t feel scary either. More like standing at the top of a slide, about to push off.

More children came as the classes started the next day, and wow -city kids were different.

They wore their hair in fancy ways and talked about things, I didn’t even know were real.

During the break, one boy asked where I was from.“From a town near the hills,” I said.

He nodded, serious. “Do you get Wi-Fi there?”

“Sometimes the goats block it,” I said straight-faced.

He looked horrified. Then I laughed and so did he.

Hostel life was nothing like the movies.

It was better in some ways, worse in others.

We had to wake up at 5:30- yes, a.m. -for jogging. Seven rounds around the 150-meter oval ground first, then more exercise right after, which honestly felt illegal. But breakfast was pancakes sometimes and on birthdays, we got chocolate milk. So I forgave them.

Kimmy and I grew closer and I started sharing my fav dried fruits with her before sleeping at night. And there was one more girl named- Kaira, sounds familiar right? Yes! she had the same name as my aunty, so it felt like it was meant to be together and our group gained one more member. Yay!

Evenings were the best. It was our club time, so I applied for the martial art class immediately. Then after the club, it was time for swimming, I got ready quickly- wearing my newly bought swimming costume but I didn't know how to swim -still excited, only to be disappointed because they took us to a 3.5 ft. depth swimming pool. It was kind of reasonable but still I screamed inside aghhagagagh!!

After dinner, we’d sit in the dorm and talk about home- everyone’s stories mixing together like a weird but warm soup. Some missed their pets, some missed their moms’ cooking, and some just missed not having to make their bed every morning.

I talked about Grandma’s garden and how she once chased a cow with a broom. Kimmy said she missed her baby brother’s smell- like milk and toothpaste. Another girl who was the same as Kimmy called Lia, she didn’t say much but once, when she thought no one was listening, she hummed a song under her breath. It felt like longing.

I was friendly with everyone but still not as close as my own group of girls.Sometimes I’d call home after dinner.

“Are you eating well?” Mom always asked first.

“Yes! Today we had macaroni. With peas!” I said, as if peas were a luxury.

Dad’s voice would float in from behind her. “Making any trouble?”

“Working on it,” I’d say.

But every time I hung up, I’d stare at the phone for a second longer. Not because I was sad exactly- just because home suddenly felt like a TV show, I could only watch in reruns.

One rainy night, the power went out.

Everyone screamed for about three seconds before the emergency lights came on. But suddenly Lia suggested a new offer "How about we start a runway.?"

Suddenly everyone got excited and brought out their torches and one girl switched off the lights again.

One by one, we tied our night wear turning them into something fashionable, taking turns to walk as we flash lights on each others.

And like that our personal runway began. We laughed hard, till the warden shouted for silence.

The next morning, the sun looked golden through the hostel window.

Finally! a saturday then somewhere downstairs, the breakfast bell rang.

Lia groaned. “Do we have to get up?”

“Of course,” I said. “What if it’s pancake day?”

As I ran down the stairs with my friends, I realized something.

I wasn’t just visiting this place anymore.

It was starting to sound like mine- laughter bouncing off the walls, names shouted across hallways, the clatter of spoons and dreams that didn’t quite fit yet but might someday.

And for a grade-four kid with a messy braid and sneakers that squeaked, that was enough. More than enough.

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