“They are, but still.” She heaves a weary sigh and shakes her head. “Choma, listen to me. There are cute boys, and then there are cute boys. The Cresta Crew are unnaturally hot and charming. All of them. I repeat – all of them.”
I snicker. “What are they, a boy band? Were they discovered at Cresta Lodge or something?”
“Cresta, Johannesburg,” Lebz explains impatiently. “They lived there before coming here, so people started calling them the Cresta Crew.”
I’m not allowed to read the minds of my friends, but I take a quick peek just to see if she really believes there’s something off about these guys. I barely have to scratch the surface to sense her unease, even though it’s mixed up with a good deal of excitement. “OK. I’m listening.”
We’ve reached Syringa, and we make our way to our bench. Wiki, our third musketeer, is already there, going over yesterday’s Business Studies homework.
He glances up at us, round glasses magnifying his eyes. “Hello, ladies. What’s new?”
“Lebz is convinced that Kelly’s latest conquest is a member of a gang of freaks,” I report, slumping onto the bench beside him.
“Ah,” he replies with a nod, and goes right back to his homework.
“So this is the story,” says Lebz, warming to her subject. “These six guys all decided to leave South Africa together. They arrived about a week ago and they’ve been flirting their way across town. Now Spencer – that’s Kelly’s man – is the hottest. He met Kelly at a party and they’ve been inseparable ever since. This morning she emailed me his photo – that’s why I got to your place late – and I nearly died. I’d never actually seen one of them until now. Connie! I’m telling you, my heart stopped.”
“So what are you thinking?” I reach into my bag for my water bottle and take a sip. “They’ve taken some kind of potion that makes them gorgeous?”
She shrugs. “You’re the expert. I just think these guys are too good to be true. And Kelly has dated a lot of incredible guys. She’s not easily impressed, but Spencer has her completely under his spell – not that I blame her.”
“Hmm,” I reply, in my no-nonsense supernatural detective tone. “I’ll look into it.”
“Be careful,” she warns me. “Rumour has it that those guys can make any girl fall in love with them.”
I laugh. Unless they’re duplicates of Rakwena, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. Not that I’m in love with Rakwena. I just mean… Never mind. The point is I’m glad to have a potential mystery on my hands. Time to put all those months of practice to use. With any luck, the Cresta Crew will turn out to be nothing more than a bunch of boys with good genes and even better game. But if they’re not, I’ll find out.
**
“So what do you think?”
I follow Rakwena up the steep cement road that twists from the quarry to the top of Kgale Hill. I’m out of breath, but it’s a vast improvement to how I felt the first time I let Rakwena drag me up the hill. I don’t know how he convinced me to make this hike a Sunday morning ritual, but we hardly ever miss a week.
“I think you should do more walking and less talking,” he replies impatiently.
“Come on, help me out here. Do you think Lebz is being paranoid about these guys?”
“Lebz is being Lebz.” The disdain in his voice is palpable, and a little offensive. I thought he liked Lebz. He stops to open his bag, hands me a bottle of water and takes a swig from his two-litre bottle of barely diluted Oros. “She thinks her garden shed is haunted, remember?”
OK, he has a point. Somehow Lebz sees ghosts where the rest of us see rats. “Maybe you’re right. She can be a bit of a drama queen, especially where Kelly’s concerned.”
I slip into silence as other hikers pass us on their way down. I’m not an exercise fanatic, but I’ll admit that it has its benefits. I’m stronger than I was last year, and have much more stamina when it comes to supernatural mind games. I’m not yet action hero material, but watch this space.
We reach the flat slab of rock near the top where most hikers stop, and Rakwena immediately starts doing push-ups. Show-off. I lie back on the rock and watch him. I still don’t understand why he bothers working out. Rakwena’s metabolism is ridiculous – he burns so much energy that he never gains weight, despite eating enough for ten people. The amount of sugar he consumes in one day would kill anyone else.
I still haven’t figured out why his body works so differently from the rest of us. He’s gifted, like me, but my body is 100% flawed human. His body is perfect. Maybe it has something to do with the blue sparks that pour out of his skin, or the chemical imbalance that requires him to inject himself with medicine every day. So many things about Rakwena are still a mystery to me.
“Should I take my shirt off?” He pauses and looks at me with a cocky grin.
“It’s not that hot.” I raise an eyebrow. “And neither are you.”
“Your lingering gaze says otherwise.” He lowers himself to the ground and lies on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands.
I look at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re the biggest freak of nature I’ve ever met, you know.”
He laughs. “Thank you.”
I inch closer to him and reach out to touch his hand, and my fingers tingle. I can’t explain this thing that happens when we touch – it doesn’t happen with anyone else. It’s as if the power in me calls to the power in him, and he can’t help but respond.
“Aren’t you even a little curious?”
His eyes narrow. “About Kelly’s boyfriend? No, not really.”
“No – about yourself.” I take a wary glance around. The other hikers aren’t close enough to hear us, but I drop my voice to a whisper. “Your gift. Your body.”
Rakwena sighs. “I’ve been living with it all my life; the novelty has worn off.”
“But you’re so…strange,” I persist. “I’ve never heard of a gifted person who is as different as you are. Look at me, look at Ntatemogolo. No weird cravings, no chemical issues, and definitely no blue sparks. I mean, how does your body even produce all that energy without damaging itself?”
Rakwena gets up with an exasperated grunt. “How many times do we have to go over this? I can’t explain these things. They just happen. You’re the one with a biologist for a father – you tell me.”
“I wish I could.” I sit up and study his face. There’s an angry little twitch in his jaw that tells me to drop it, but I’ve never been one to pay attention to subtle signals. “I’m no scientist, but I know enough about the human body to know that yours is different. Like a comic book mutant. Are you sure you’ve never been exposed to – ”
“Gamma radiation?” He rolls his eyes. “You’re like a skipping CD.”
“I
