“Do you want to go smoke at the back of the field?” I ask.
Kelwyn’s eyes light up like cheap Christmas decorations.
“Ja.” He bounces to his feet like a little kid.
We walk towards the wet field, where a couple of guys are playing soccer and kicking up mud under a miserable sky. I’ve already started rolling as we walk. No one will stop us. If we’re caught by the teachers I’m sure they’ll just be glad we’re not smoking tik.
Not Reynolds though. But he’s going to get his teeth kicked in one of these days.
I light up the joint and take a long pull before passing it to Kelwyn. I exhale a thick grey ring into the air, just as he starts coughing his lungs out.
I take the joint back with a smile. “Lightweight.”
I wish I could be stoned all the time. Life would be so damn simple. I take another long drag, letting the smoke drift up to my nostrils and swallowing it down again before I blow out a thick stream. Like I’m Thor, stirring up thunderclouds.
I’m about to take another drag when Kelwyn smacks the joint out of my hand and starts burying it under the ground with his shoe. “Reynolds is coming. Please tell me you have deodorant.”
I turn slowly to where he’s looking and frown. “Don’t worry about Reynolds, man. He can’t do anything to us.”
“Fok.” Kelwyn starts patting his pockets and pulls out a stick of gum. He fumbles with the packet then pops the thin strip into his mouth.
“Thanks for sharing,” I say drily.
But he’s too busy frantically scraping the chewing-gum packet over his blazer to hear me. Like that’s going to cover the smell.
“Come on, let’s walk. Act normal,” I say.
Kelwyn falls into place beside me but he keeps looking nervously behind him. I’m too stoned to care about Reynolds. “Just leave it, man. Chill out.”
“Chill out? How am I supposed to chill out? He could expel us.”
I can’t help but grin. “Expel us for what?”
I don’t know how, but Reynolds changes direction without us seeing and next thing he’s blocking our path. “What have you been doing?” he asks, his face red.
“We’re just walking,” I say.
“And why are your eyes so red?”
“Pollen. I have allergies.”
He leans in close, so that he’s right in front of my nose. “There are no flowers on this field, Einstein. Where do you think you are? Bishops?”
I just laugh and spread my arms. Kelwyn looks like he’s about to burst into tears. But Reynolds has nothing on us. He gives me a warning look before heading off in the direction of Marshall – number two on his most-hated list.
“Jissus, fok, that guy does not like you,” says Kelwyn.
I shrug. “He can join the back of the line.”
Kayla
RONDEBOSCH, FRIDAY
By the time Friday eventually comes around, I’ve worked myself up into a frenzy. Like one of those tiny dogs that shiver uncontrollably all the time. Chihuahuas or something.
I like Sebastian. He clearly knows what he wants, and that’s me. Plus, he doesn’t hang out with Craig’s group. In fact, I don’t think their circles cross in any way – Music nerds and childish dorks don’t mix. So there’s a small chance that he hasn’t heard any of the rumours about me, which is definitely a good sign.
And he did say he thought I was interesting.
Another reason I know this might be it is that his dad arrives to pick me up. He shakes Jerome’s hand and mine as well, as if he’s heard about me from Sebastian and is excited to meet me.
“You kids have fun,” says Jerome. He’s actually smiling for a change.
Sebastian and I sit on the back seat, and it’s hard to stop grinning. Sebastian obviously feels the same way.
He looks out the window, but I can see his face reflected in the glass. He catches me staring and I look away quickly. We’re both excited. Just like you’re supposed to be on a first date.
We drive for about ten minutes and pull up into the driveway of a really big house framed by trees. It must be three storeys high at least.
“This is us,” says Sebastian, hurrying out the car and running around to open my door for me.
A middle-aged woman wearing a lilac dress and a silvery shawl rushes out the front door and kisses Sebastian on the cheek before slipping into the front seat. She aims an elegant wave my way. I wave back, feeling like I’m impersonating the Queen of England.
“Behave yourselves while we’re gone,” she says as the car reverses.
“What happened to going to see a movie?” I ask once the car has pulled away.
“I rented a couple of DVDs, if that’s okay with you, doll? My folks are going out for dinner, so I thought it might be nice to have the lounge to ourselves.”
I bounce on the balls of my feet nervously. “Um, okay.”
“Then we can chat as well,” he says, flashing me a smile. “Get to know each other.”
He holds out his hand and I timidly extend mine. To stay composed, I concentrate on breathing through my nose. I don’t want to give away how excited I am. But inside, my mind is simultaneously doing cartwheels and showing the finger to my enemies.
Sebastian Brown is holding my hand, bitches.
“Let me show you around,” he says, shutting the door. Still holding my hand, he leads me into the lounge, where I see a pile of rented DVDs on the coffee table. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just chose five new releases.”
“You could have just asked. You should have taken my number …”
He smacks his forehead. “Oh, right. What can I say, you make me nervous. I can’t think around you.”
My heart swells. It’s dizzying.
He shows me the kitchen, where two packets of microwave popcorn are positioned on the table. It’s a gorgeous house. Clean, shiny marble and antique furniture.
Even the art on the wall looks expensive. I wish I knew more about art.
“And this is my room,” he says, leading me into a typical guy room full of things like GQ magazine and hair gel. There’s a black electric drum kit squashed into the corner and his bed has a plain red duvet cover with a black frill.
“It’s neat,” I say, turning around to leave. He dances around me and closes the door.
“What about the movie?” I ask, still smiling.
He closes the gap between us and presses his lips against mine. “Never mind the movie,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” His fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt.
I push his hands away. “Wait. What are you doing?”
He looks up in angry surprise. “You want me to stop? Why? You do this with everyone else.”
I glance up, shocked, my cheeks burning. “That’s not true.”
He shrugs. “C’mon, man. I tried to be nice with all that girl stuff. Would you rather I’d just come out and said I want to sleep with you?”
Oh. I see. This wasn’t a date after all.
I force myself to smile because the alternative is to burst into tears, and no one likes a miserable girl. I push the sadness back inside myself, where no one can see it.
“Never mind the movie then,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
He grabs me and starts kissing me so hard our teeth bash together.
All the time I’m asking myself what made me think he actually wanted to date me. I’m not the type of girl who goes on dates. He probably just needed a rebound lay so that he could get over his ex. The movies, popcorn – that was for his parents’ benefit, not mine.
“What’s this?” he asks, pressing down his thumb on a lovebite on my arm.
“It’s just a bruise.”
He grunts and pushes me onto the bed, lifting up my denim skirt. A laugh escapes my lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I say, and kiss him to stop further questions. What’s funny is imagining myself going to a movie with a guy like Sebastia
n.
I imagine him ordering the box of popcorn to share, offering me a drink. I’d pull out my wallet but he would insist on paying. Neither of us would watch the movie because I’d be too preoccupied with his hand lying next to mine.
Would he touch my hand or my knee halfway through? Would we end up standing outside my gate while he mustered up the courage to kiss me?
He would call me the next day and invite me somewhere super-fun like ice skating or a concert at Kirstenbosch Gardens. We’d run into Rebecca and Jasmine there, and when they saw Sebastian and me together, they would instantly regret breaking off our friendship. At school he would forsake his friends to sit with me on the grass, stroking my hair in his lap while we talked. Craig would be jealous because he’s secretly liked me all along. People would respect me for a change.
Did I really think any of that would actually happen? Sebastian rolls onto his side and pats his chest. “Damn, I needed that.” He leans over and flicks me on the shoulder. “You’re cool,” he says.
I try to smile and I pull his duvet closer to cover myself.
“I’m going to shower quick. Get dressed. I’ve got some friends coming over.”
Of course he’s got friends coming over. Because this wasn’t a date. It was never supposed to be a date. I collect my clothes and sit on the edge of his bed listening to the sound of the shower running.
I hope Jerome doesn’t ask me how my date went. I don’t think I’d be able to bear it.
WE WATCH Deadpool, which I’ve already seen about fifty times. Judging by the fact that Sebastian’s friends know every line, so have they. Seems I was wrong about Music nerds – they’re as dumb as everyone else. I sit next to Sebastian, but we don’t touch or even talk. It’s like I’m not even there.
Later he walks me to my gate from his dad’s car, his hands in his pockets. He leans into me but instead of kissing me, he says, “This stays between us right? You won’t tell your friends?”
The smile has frozen solid on my face.
“I don’t have any friends.”
I turn and walk inside. I don’t look back once.
Finlay
CITY CENTRE, FRIDAY
We’re all scrunched into Bones’ Citi Golf on our way to the city. I made sure Jules got the front seat so she couldn’t press herself against me in the back. I keep my gaze outside so there’s no chance of our eyes meeting. There’s nothing but the usual stuff to see – bright lights, wet streets, homeless people who appear at every stop, huddled inside their ragged blankets. Bones doesn’t even make eye contact – he turns up the music so we don’t hear them beg through the window. Nothing kills the buzz more than people with even less than you. Me, I’d rather steal than beg.
When we get to the club, the first thing I do is make use of the artist tab. Brendan and Bones know the drill – we do two shots, then chase them down with Black Label. When we’re done I have that buzz that comes just before full-blown drunkenness. I’m at that wonderful stage of fuzzy happiness, my boys’ arms slung across my shoulders, the club starting to fill up, when the music starts to call. We start bouncing together, not stopping until we’re on the dance floor, bumping into people we can’t see through the smoke.
This is what I live for. Music. Friends. Oblivion.
We divide our time between the bar and the dance floor, detouring only for Bones to chat up some girl. Someone shoves a shot in my hand and I don’t even look to see who it’s from before throwing it back.
Brendan grabs me by the back of my shirt. “We’re about to go on, bro. Come on.”
I stagger forward, tripping over an amp cable on the stage as Brendan shoves a microphone into my hand and suddenly it’s like I’m holding Mjölnir, Thor’s hammer.
“What are we playing first?” I ask, swinging my cap the right way round.
“ ‘Ghetto fabulous’,” he mouths.
I move my head from side to side and wait for Bones to start looping the track. As soon as the music starts, it all comes back. Instinct takes care of the rest, and I transform into Thor:
“This the city of dreams,
bad decisions, iron ray-gimes;
Lost souls tryin’ to redeem, goin’ extreme;
Don’t give in to excess, the city ain’t got you yet;
Don’t give in to regret, live your life in large-ess.
Possess yourself, don’t repress yourself;
This ain’t the end of success;
Don’t look at me but at yourself;
This city got nothing on us;
’Coz we ghetto fabulous.”
The words stream out of my mouth like magic. It’s like I’m a god and the music is my power – it flows through me like lightning. Next thing I know, I’m tossing the mic over my shoulder so feedback screams over the monitors.
The crowds don’t mind. They love it when you don’t care, when you show you’re not interested in them. There are a lot of people out there, jumping. Out the corner of my eye I notice the next band waiting, looking panicked.
That’s right. You got nothing on us.
We play a couple more tracks before stumbling back down the stairs to the bar. We’ve run out of money and bar tab, so Brendan starts trying to convince some guys from the crowd to buy us drinks.
I throw my arm around his neck and fall on his shoulder. “You’ll have more luck with girls, buddy – you’re not that attractive.”
“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you try?”
“Where is Bones? He’s the one who knows how to pull chicks.” I stand on the rungs of a barstool to look for the curly-haired bastard.
He’s talking to a group of girls. One of them, Kenna, plays bass guitar in a rock band called The Nightjars. Bones has been after her for months.
“There are our free drinks,” I say, pointing to the group.
We squeeze through the crowd to get there. Brendan immediately latches on to a blonde and gives her his best drunken grin.
“I’m in Dark Father,” he says with a cheeky smile.
She giggles and bites down on her bottom lip. “Yeah, I know who you are. I love you guys.”
“If you buy me and my friend a drink, I’ll name my next song after you.”
This always works. The girls giggle and soon their wallets are out and drinks are starting to appear on the wet counter.
A couple of shots later I leave Brendan and Bones and head back to the dance floor.
My defences are down, so when a beer is slipped into my hand and someone’s arm is linked through mine, I realise too late that it’s Jules. That part of me that wanted to avoid this situation is lying drunk somewhere at the back of my mind. So what do I do? I lean down so she can say something in my ear.
“Want to come get some air outside?”
I down the beer as she leads me through the crowd. I leave the bottle on top of a speaker because I need both hands to get down the stairs.
Once we’re outside, I pull up my hood to shield my face from the cold, and lean back against the wall to stop the world from spinning. I can’t see properly.
Jules is standing in front me with her head lifted towards mine, hair blowing all around her face. Except there’s two of her, not one.
“Shit, Jules, I’m trashed.”
“What?” she asks, coming closer.
I tip my head to the side to listen. She slinks forward, slipping herself into my arms. I’m hit with the smell of candyfloss-flavoured shampoo. My vision is blurred by flying tendrils of brown hair and shining eyes rimmed with glitter.
I’m too drunk to push her away, to think.
My arm falls heavily to my side. She gives me that look girls use when they expect you to kiss them. I’m too trashed to stop it.
She leans forward, and her lips find mine.
Kayla
ACCESS PARK, SATURDAY
I have one escape from my everyday nightmare – my casual job at the ice-cream shop at Access Park.
I know it’s lame, but no one in my class ever com
es here. It’s not proper gelato-type ice cream, like the kind you get at that hipster place in Newlands, the Creamery. It’s cheap suckers and old-school brands that haven’t changed their packaging since the Eighties. And there are cockroaches living in the freezers. It’s actually really gross. Lorenda and Jerome are fine with me working there, because they’re too stingy to give me proper pocket money. They don’t want to spoil me. I mean, honestly – you’d think they’d give me a break. But at least I can sort of call this place my own.
I freeride my longboard to work, breathing in the rush of freedom. I love being on my own, just me on the street, music in my ears – the real Kayla, who can get down an entire rail on my board without wiping out. Well, almost.
Sometimes I go to the skatepark under the unfinished bridge in town and have a go on the half-pipe. I never talk to anyone. I like the idea of being invisible, anonymous, letting people form their own opinions about me. I like this version of me. It’s the one hardly anyone gets to see.
Today I pass my shift at the ice-cream shop sitting on a white plastic chair trying to catch rare kitties on my Neko Atsume app while the fridges hum around me. The only customer so far has been a creepy-looking dude in an Incredible Hulk T-shirt who came in to buy two boxes of Twice as Nice.
But the silence eventually gets to me, and then my brain goes into overdrive. I don’t want to think about what happened with Sebastian or that I really, really liked him. No one ever wants to take my number because they find me interesting or cute. I’m already sixteen and I’ve never had a real boyfriend. But I keep making the same mistakes over and over again.
I have no one to talk to. No one to hang out with. Craig is the only person I see outside of school. In a weird way, he’s my only friend, the only one who knows me.
I message him to ask when he’s coming around, hating myself for needing the little attention he gives me. I am truly pathetic.
Near closing time, I fetch my flute from my bag. No one is going to come in here now, and it’s the perfect time to practise. There’s no Lorenda nagging me. No laser-beam eyes staring into my back. No Lucinda. No Sebastian.
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