partial to books.
“Thanks,” I whisper back.
He replies with a distracted wave, and I watch him run his fingers thoughtfully across the spines of the books as he turns the corner. He’s already forgotten I exist. I reach for the thinnest book and flip through it. It seems to have been written for primary school. It’s perfect.
My Setswana isn’t what it should be. After my mother died the only person I spoke it with was Lebz, but not often. My only close relative from my mother’s side is Ntatemogolo, and he was off dancing with wolves in Peru or someplace. When he finally came home, he was appalled by my cultural ignorance. He took me to the cattle post for a weekend and made me sit up all night listening to crickets chirp so I could get in touch with the earth. I learned a lot about crickets and cows, but not so much about culture.
“I didn’t know you were such a lazy student.”
I almost drop the book. My chest fills with a mixture of annoyance and relief, and I’m careful to wipe the smile off my face before I turn around.
Rakwena’s lips are curled into that smile that pisses me off, but some of his usual vibrancy is gone. “No self-respecting Form Four student would use that for an assignment.” He taps the book’s cover with the tip of his forefinger.
I snatch it away and glare at him. “Setswana is hard; everyone knows that,” I snap. Nevertheless, I slide the book back into its place on the shelf. “Where have you been?” I hope that sounded casual. I hope it didn’t sound as if I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering whether he’s avoiding me.
“Sick.”
“Sick?” I frown at him, suspicious. “What was wrong with you?”
“Flu.”
“It’s summer.”
He smiles and runs a finger along the side of the shelf. “Were you worried? You sent me a million messages.”
“Not a million,” I protest in indignation. A few students send curious glances our way. I lower my voice. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t backing out of our deal. You remember our deal, don’t you?”
“How could I forget?”
“So? When?”
He hesitates, as if he wants me to make the call. What is it with boys? I thought they were supposed to take charge.
“Today,” I suggest. “Lunch time.”
“After school. The usual place.”
I get a little shiver when he says that – the usual place, as if we’re having a torrid affair. I study him for a moment. He doesn’t look quite like himself; some of his swagger is gone. Maybe he really was sick.
He reaches over my head and pulls down a book. “Here. If you want your teachers to take you seriously, you’d better use books like this.” He hands it to me. It’s a thick monster of a book with a ghastly brown cover. The font is so small I might need to borrow Wiki’s glasses, and it’s written in grammatically correct traditional Setswana – the kind I get a headache trying to decipher.
My jaw drops. “It’ll take me all day to read the first page!”
“Good. It’s about time you learned to challenge yourself.” With that snide statement, he slinks away.
No wonder Lizard doesn’t have any friends. He’s a smug, self-righteous know-it-all. I march to the check-out desk with the book in my hand. I’m not taking it out because he suggested it; I’m taking it out to prove a point. Besides, I don’t have to read the whole book. Skimming was invented for a reason.
By the time the final bell goes I’ve worked myself into a state. I’m distracted, my telepathy is still off and I’m almost terrified to find out what Lizard’s skill is. What if it’s dangerous? My hands are shaking so badly I keep dropping my pen. Eventually I get my act together, pack up my things and head outside, and then I remember that I haven’t told my friends about my plans for the afternoon.
For a moment I consider just disappearing and dealing with them later, but Lebz emerges from a classroom nearby and spots me. Damn, damn, damn!
“Listen, I have to hang around for a bit,” I tell her before she can open her mouth. “I have a very important meeting.”
“Meeting?” Her eyes narrow. “You’re not part of any club and you don’t play sports.”
The lie is poised on my tongue. A group assignment for Development Studies. We get them all the time; it’ll be completely plausible. But do I really want to spend the rest of my life lying? I unzip the front compartment of my bag and pretend to check for something. “I’m meeting Rakwena, so you should go on without me.”
She grabs my arm and drags me to a corner. “What? Already?”
I pull my arm out of her grip. “Ouch! Already what?” Switch. Everything in her mind is clear again, for the moment. This back and forth is starting to make me dizzy.
“Meeting in secret after school! Does Wiki know about this?”
I sigh. Lebz is such a drama queen. I wish I couldn’t see the ridiculous thoughts running through her mind. Rakwena is not going to hurt me, and he’s not going to shove me up against a wall and try to stick his hand in my shirt. “We’re just going to talk.”
“About what?”
“Stuff.” I raise my eyebrows. “You know.”
“I’m coming with you,” she declares.
“No!”
She stares suspiciously at me. “Why not? What are you up to?”
“Lebz, please. Do you come with me when I go to talk to my grandfather?”
“No, but –”
“And why not?” I fold my arms across my chest, challenging her. My head is starting to throb, the telepathy is flickering again and I’m in no mood for this. “You know this stuff just freaks you out – you hate hearing about it. You can just switch off and go back to the normal world, but I can’t. Rakwena understands. I don’t have to explain things to him. He just… he knows, OK? Try to put yourself in my shoes for once!”
The look on her face tells me I’ve said too much. “OK,” she says quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait, Lebz… I didn’t mean…”
“Forget it. It’s fine.” She shrugs. “I have a lot of work to do anyway.” She walks off towards the gate. Eish. Me and my big mouth.
I walk slowly towards the “usual place”, making a promise to myself to call Lebz when I get home. I don’t like it when she’s upset with me, but I don’t have time to brood because Thuli has appeared out of nowhere and is walking towards me. I don’t think I can deal with this. My chest is heaving. I’m rooted to the ground. I don’t know what’s come over me; I’m standing there like an idiot. I should get out of his way.
