Entwined (7 page)

I sneak away, but instead of going back to bed I head for the living room. I walk over to the bookshelf and take down one of our photo albums. The first picture is of me, a chubby, beaming toddler. I skip ahead to my favourite photo of my mother. She’s barefoot on a well-kept lawn, wearing a pretty summer dress and laughing at my dad, who took the picture. I raise my gaze to the only photo of her that’s on display in the house – my parents’ wedding picture. It’s on top of the bookshelf, next to a horrible school photo of me taken not long after her death.

My mother was beautiful. I don’t know where all those genes went, because I don’t look anything like her. She had smooth dark skin and short hair, and lovely hands. I remember her hands more clearly than anything else. Her nails were short but always painted in different colours according to her mood. Dad uses the most wonderful word to describe her – luminescent. I’ve often wondered how a skinny, awkward
lekgoa
managed to get such a goddess to notice him. Dad has many great qualities, but you have to get him talking before you’ll see them.

I don’t realise he’s entered the room until I hear the chair creak. I turn around and there he is, sitting at the dining table and looking at me.

“Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“It’s OK.” I close the album and put it back. “So you two aren’t the best of friends yet?”

He winces. “I’m sorry darling, but if you’re waiting for your grandfather and me to get along you’ll be waiting a long time.”

I shrug. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Connie.” He looks at the chair opposite him, then at me. “A minute, please.”

My body tenses. The last thing I need is another lecture on Ntatemogolo’s “esoteric rubbish”. It’s difficult to sit and listen to Dad go on and on and not be able to contradict him. How do I tell him that the world he thinks is so orderly and practical is all in his head?

“Dad, it’s late,” I remind him. “I have school in the morning.”

“It won’t take long.” He fixes his stern I’m-the-head-of-the-house gaze on me.

With a sigh of resignation, I plonk myself onto the chair. “OK. What’s wrong?”

“Connie…” He frowns, then sighs and starts again. “Connie. We both know you’re… I mean you’re very… you’re a smart girl. I’m not talking about school. What I mean is, you’re more… insightful than most people.” He’s squirming in his seat, his thoughts running back and forth as he tries to find the right words. If he knew that I knew what he was thinking, what would he do?

“Dad –”

“Let me finish.” He clears his throat. “You’re sensitive. Intuitive! Yes, intuitive. Your mother was, too. She had a way of sensing what people were feeling, you know? Empathy. Yes, that’s the word. With you it’s a bit… somewhat… stronger.” My father, king of the understatement. “It’s a useful trait, wonderful really, but… um…” He hesitates, then flashes an uncertain smile. “But I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand it.”

“Dad, we’ve talked about this,” I point out.

“Yes, but you’re older now. I just don’t want you making the wrong decisions, or getting involved in things that are… unhealthy.”

I put on a puzzled expression. “What sorts of things?”

“Ah well, you know… there are many things that can lead a young girl astray.” He coughs and lowers his gaze to the table.

“You don’t have to worry. I don’t like parties or drinking, my friends are good kids and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He nods. “I know. But we all have our weaknesses, and yours isn’t alcohol or boys. It’s… the other thing. You know what I mean. All that… mumbo jumbo your grandfather’s always raving about. You’re so drawn to it, and it’s not good for you!”

I take a deep breath and try to come up with a way to derail this conversation. “It’s harmless, Dad. Really. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But I do. When he has you going over there first thing in the morning, or late in the day when you should be home doing your schoolwork, then I have to worry, Connie.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So I shouldn’t spend time with him?”

“I didn’t say that.” But that’s what he’s thinking. He cracks his knuckles and frowns, wishing my grandfather had never come back to Botswana, then hating himself for wishing it. “He’s your grandfather; of course you should spend time with him. I want you to have a good relationship with him, for your mother’s sake and your own. But the man is relentless! Every chance he gets he’s planting all this crazy stuff in your head. He’s convinced that you’re some kind of… of… medium, or God knows what, and he refuses to see sense! A man with his reputation and education – I just don’t get it.”

Poor Dad. As exasperating as he is, I can understand where he’s coming from. “Dad, don’t get angry. He’s just doing what he thinks is best.”

“But he’s wrong!” he splutters.

“Well, he thinks you’re wrong, too.” I put my elbows on the table and lean forward. “I don’t want to be caught in the middle. I get it – you two don’t agree on anything. But you’re both family, and you both love me. That’s enough.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? If you can’t get along, just stay away from each other so we can keep the peace. Please!”

Dad nods. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m just worried about the sort of ideas he’s –”

I groan and bury my head in my hands. “Dad! Please. Let it go.”

He looks at me. I tune out his thoughts and focus on the fear in his eyes. “I just need you to know that this world of his is not real. It’s a mixture of culture and superstition. It’s not solid. This is.” He waves a hand at the room and heaves a weary sigh. “Your mother would have dealt with this better. Maybe I’m too white.”

“Much too white,” I whisper with a smile.

He grins and shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I just want you to keep your feet on the ground. I want you to be careful.”

“Dad.” I reach across the table and put my hand over his. “Do you know me at all? When have I not been careful?”

“You’re right, of course.” His tone is sheepish.

I push the chair back and get to my feet. “Can we please stop having this conversation?”

He smiles. “I think we’ve filled the quota for the next few years.”

“Good.” I walk round the table and kiss his cheek. “Night, Dad.”

“Night, Connie.”

I can feel his eyes on me all the way down the corridor.

07:00

“The number you have dialled…”

Oh, for goodness sake, Lizard. Where are you?

As soon as the bell goes for lunch I head for the Form One classrooms. After a while I see Amantle and her friend emerge. This time I can sense something going on in their heads, but their thoughts are murky and unclear. I pass them, catch their gazes and smile. The other girl smiles back, but Amantle shoots me a suspicious glance and tosses her head. Now I can see why she and Kelly get along so well. I’m not going to get anything out of her, but her friend looks promising.

I hurry over to the bench. My friends are already there, Wiki unwrapping his lunch and Lebz looking on in distaste.

I collapse onto the bench beside them. “Is it my turn to get the food?”

Lebz hands me some money by way of reply. “Where were you?”

“Stalking Amantle. She’s not very friendly.”

“I told you.” Lebz scowls. “What do you want with her, anyway?”

“I told you something strange is going on with those girls.” I sit up straight and open my bag, looking for my wallet. “I intend to find out what it is.”

“Something strange?” Wiki looks up from his lunch. “You mean
your
kind of strange?”

I nod. “I told my grandfather about them and he thinks something is up, too. So I need to find out whatever I can. Amantle is too savvy to let anything slip, but I could probably get close to her friend.” I rummage around in the wallet and locate a few coins.

“Rose?” Lebz wrinkles her nose. “Well, maybe. She’s probably the nicest one, but you’ll never catch her on her own. She’s like Amantle’s shadow.”

“We’ll see.” I stand up, clutching the money. “The usual?” I take a handful of coins from Wiki and head for the tuck-shop.

I can now tune out the thoughts of the people around me by focusing my attention on something else. It’s not as easy as it sounds, but I can get about five minutes of relative peace and quiet before the thoughts start intruding again. Sometimes I just sit back and let them run through my head, like a silent observer. It’s incredible how much people think; constantly, about random things, as if their brains will rot if there’s more than a moment of silence. Well, I appreciate silence now.

I brace myself for the barrage of thoughts coming from the crowd outside the tuck-shop, but it’s quieter than usual. There are at least fifty kids here, but for some reason all I’m getting is muted voices and vague images. I shake my head and blink and the noise returns, but a few minutes later it fades again. What’s going on? As the line moves forward I keep my eyes on my hands, letting the thoughts drift around in the back of my head. I buy two packets of fresh chips and three soft drinks, then turn around to make my way back to the bench.

My heart jumps. Thuli is standing right behind me. My eyes travel up to his face. He hasn’t seen me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to him before. He smells of cigarettes; Lebz would be choking and spluttering on principle, but thanks to Ntatemogolo I don’t mind the smell. He’s not as tall up close; shorter than Lizard. His dreadlocks are held back with his school tie, and there’s a suspicious stain on his shirt.

I have to push past him to get out of the crush, but this might be my only chance to speak to him. I clear my throat, look at his shoulder and mumble, “Excuse me.”

He looks down, spots me and shifts to the left to let me through. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse from years of smoking, but the voice of his thoughts is even grittier.
I think I know this chick
. There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and then,
No, maybe not
. He turns his attention back to the tuck-shop.
Man, I’m starving
. Then the lyrics of some rap song, and then, once more with passion,
Man! I’m starving!
and back to the song.

I walk away from the tuck-shop. OK, so I’m a little disheartened. I know Thuli is smart because he’s always part of the Syringa team for the Inter-School Maths and Science Fair, and I thought his head would be full of complex theories and stuff. At least he’s not thinking about sex, which is more than I can say for most boys.

“Finally!” Lebz exclaims when I approach, snatching her food from my arms.

“You’re welcome,” I say wryly, handing Wiki his drink before sitting down. “Guess who I ran into? He was right behind me in line at the tuck-shop. Our bodies were a centimetre apart.”

Lebz raises her eyebrows and talks through a mouthful of chips. “Not Lizard again?”

I flinch at her disgusted tone. “No. Thuli.”

“Oh!” She swallows and regards me with suspicion. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“I
am
excited.” I shake my packet of chips to distribute the salt.

“What did he say?” Lebz rolls her eyes. “Did he ask you for a lighter? I think that’s the only thing he ever says to me. ‘Hey Lebz. Got a light?’ As if I look like someone who wants lungs full of tar.”

“He said, ‘Sorry’.” I smile sheepishly. “I asked him to excuse me, because he was blocking my way, so he moved. It was nothing.”

Lebz and Wiki exchange glances. Wiki closes his book.

I blink at them. “What?”

“It was nothing?” Lebz is peering into my face as if she’s just noticed a giant zit. “You’ve been obsessed with this guy for three years! You finally get close enough to talk to him and all you have to say is ‘it was nothing’?”

“It’s not like you to be so casual about Thuli,” adds Wiki. “Unless…”

I put a chip into my mouth and give him an innocent stare.

“Are you over him?” Lebz shrieks, thrilled by the prospect.

“I’m not
over
him,” I protest, but I’m not quite sure. I still get excited when I see Thuli; butterflies, heart palpitations, the whole thing. But… I don’t know. Three years is a long time for unrequited love. Maybe I’m fed up. Maybe I expected to look into his eyes and see his soul. Maybe I thought I’d be overwhelmed by his genius. Maybe I expected him to react with a little more interest. What I didn’t expect was a rap song and commentary on his growling stomach.

“Oh my God!” Lebz gasps, eyes wide. “You read his mind, didn’t you? It was disgusting, or full of smoke. That’s it, isn’t it?”

I sigh. “Don’t be stupid. He had some song in his head – that’s all. I just…” It’s starting to hit me now. Years of anticipation. The million times I’ve imagined our first conversation, and the crushing disappointment of reality. “There was nothing. He looked right at me for the first time and there was
nothing
. No magic. He thought he recognised me, then changed his mind.” I start to laugh. “Changed his mind! Can you believe that? After all these years.”

“He doesn’t know who you are,” says Wiki. “You can’t expect him to fall in love at first sight.”

“I know that.” I’m annoyed by his callous pragmatism. I know I’m no supermodel, but I’ve liked Thuli forever. I don’t think it’s possible to have that kind of intense emotion directed at you and not know it. “But how many times has he seen us together? How many times has he spoken to one of you when I was standing right there? And he doesn’t recognise me! I’m invisible!”

“Thuli has no taste and no sense.” Lebz reaches over to tuck a stray curl into my hair band. “But if he got to know you he’d love you.”

I nod and munch my chips, but I know she’s just saying that to make me feel better. I shouldn’t even be upset. Didn’t I want to be invisible, the average, ordinary girl? That’s what I get. Why would Thuli notice me when he can notice everybody else?

“It doesn’t matter,” I declare with more conviction than I feel. “I don’t have time to pine away after a boy who doesn’t even know my name. Listen Lebz, what do you know about this Rose girl?”

She and Wiki exchange glances again.

“Stop it,” I snap. “I’m not about to fall apart or something. Can we focus on Ma-fourteen, please?”