Chapter Fourteen: "Foundations of Her Own"
The semester had started to thin out like a slow-setting concrete mix—less flexible, more pressure.
Andra stood at the rear of Lindali University's outdoor construction yard, squinting up at the scale model of a low-cost duplex she and her team had been working on for weeks. Today was assessment day for their Building Construction and Drawing unit.
Sweat trickled down her spine beneath her overalls, but she didn't care. She pointed out reinforcement lines, wall thickness calculations, and the slope ratio of the roofing to the two assessors with measured calm.
When they asked about drainage, she explained her strategy with confidence: a channel around the perimeter with integrated stone weepers, designed for flood-prone neighborhoods.
They nodded in approval.
This was her element. She felt it in her hands, in her voice, in the pride behind every word.
---
Later, her steps were slower as she walked to the Computer Programming lab.
The shift between Civil Tech and Programming felt like entering a different planet—one where her instincts didn't matter. Logic ruled here, cold and exact.
Today's class was on arrays.
Andra sat in front of her screen, already exhausted. The lecturer scribbled a list on the board:
int marks[5] = {70, 80, 65, 90, 75};
He explained how arrays stored multiple values in a single variable, and how loops could access each value.
Andra wrote it down, then typed it out, only for her code to give a segmentation fault.
She stared at the screen, stomach clenched. Again.
Ken came over, glanced at her screen, and said gently, "Your array index starts at 0, not 1."
"Oh," she whispered, cheeks burning.
---
Back in her room, Kingsley had drawn something on a piece of paper—a crayon blueprint of "Mommy's school."
She laughed when he showed her. "What's this?" she asked.
"That's your big house. With many computers. And this is my room!"
Andra kissed his forehead. "You've got expensive dreams, baby."
Kingsley nodded solemnly. "I know."
Later that night, while Kingsley slept beside her, Andra wrote a note in her journal:
> I'm terrified of this programming unit. I feel dumb. But I won't let it beat me. I can build. I can teach. I will learn this—brick by brick, even if it's digital ones.
The next morning, she scheduled a meeting with Ms. Oduor.
"Miss Summers, you're failing this unit," her lecturer said plainly.
"I know," Andra replied. "But I want to learn. I don't want to fail."
That pause was everything.
Finally, Ms. Oduor nodded slowly. "Come see me every Thursday evening. I'll give you simplified exercises. But the rest is on you."
Andra smiled for the first time in weeks.
She wasn't just patching holes anymore. She was learning how to code—how to write the blueprint of a future she could barely see but desperately wanted.