Unravelled (10 page)

I give Lebz’s arm an appreciative pat. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“The first session’s free,” she jokes. “Hey, I’m hungry. You want some snacks?”

“Yes, please.”

On the way to the till we pick up some chips and drinks. While standing in line, I notice a gorgeous couple walking past the shop, holding hands and gazing hungrily at each other.

I poke Lebz in the ribs to make her turn. “Kencer!”

Her eyes light up, then narrow. “Those two are joined at the lip.”

I raise my eyebrows. Usually Lebz would dash out to say hello, but it appears Spencer’s presence is enough to put her off. I glance at the couple as they move further away. Kelly looks fabulous in a bright blue maxi dress, but it seems to sag slightly on her frame. “Is it just me or has she lost weight?”

“It’s not just you,” Lebz assures me. “It’s funny – Kelly never diets. She doesn’t have to. She must be lovesick.”

A funny feeling comes over me. I remember how weak Kelly seemed at the party, and now she’s losing weight as well?

“I know what you said about Spencer’s temper, but Kelly seems happy,” Lebz continues.

There’s a sliver of doubt there. I latch onto it. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

She moves closer to the till with a sigh. “I just…I don’t know. Maybe hanging around you has made me paranoid.”

Usually I’m the first to call Lebz paranoid, but this is different. The way Spencer behaved at Game City is proof. “Do me a favour and keep an eye on that girl,” I tell her, just before we reach the cashier.

Lebz’s eyes widen, but she waits until we’ve paid and we’re outside the shop to comment. “I think you’re actually starting to like her!”

I roll my eyes. I wouldn’t like Kelly even if she had a lobotomy, a personality transplant and a bout of acne. No, let’s not be harsh – the acne might melt my stone-cold heart. “I’m just being nice. Stop reading into it. Did you get Spencer’s number?”

She clears her throat. “No. But I did find out where the Cresta Crew are staying – they’ve rented a house in Extension 9.”

“Extension 9?” I squeak. Rakwena lives in Extension 11. True to Gaborone’s bizarre town planning, that’s next to Extension 9.

Lebz stares at me. “What?”

I take a breath to calm myself. Why am I panicking? They need a place big enough to house six guys, and there are lots of big houses in Extension 9.

“You don’t think they picked a house near his on purpose, do you?”

I glance at Lebz. “That’s crazy, right?”

She gives me a look. “Nothing is crazy in your world.”

I wish she hadn’t said that. These boys are operating too close to home – one’s dating my best friend’s friend, and they’re living near my boyfriend. Coincidence? Maybe. Ntatemogolo says coincidence is how the connections in the magical world manifest in the physical world. I hope, for once, that he’s wrong.

***

I’m standing in the bookstore at the Riverwalk mall, minding my own business, when someone creeps up on me.

“Hello, Conyza.”

“Connie,” I reply automatically, before turning around. “Oh! You.”

Duma smiles. “You don’t sound very happy to see me.”

“Actually, I am.” I put the book back on the shelf. “How’s Spencer doing?”

He flinches, then inches closer to the shelf and runs his hand along the spines of the books. “Sorry about that. He was having a bad day. Please don’t take it personally.” He looks at me. “I’d like us to be friends.”

I eye him suspiciously. What is this kid after? He has such an angelic face and demeanour, but he’s gifted and that could mean anything. Maybe his sweet smile hides something dark and dangerous. “OK.”

That smile of his doesn’t even flicker as he picks out a book and scans the cover. “You like science fiction and fantasy?”

I nod. “You?”

“Of course. We’re living it, after all.”

I can’t help grinning. “Yes, we are. Duma, what happened the other day? Why was Spencer so angry?”

“I told you. Bad day. He’s not usually like that.” He swallows. “He’s a good guy.”

He seems earnest, but he’s biased. I lean against the shelf. “Do your minders know you’re talking to me?”

He laughs. “My minders. They wouldn’t like that.”

“I’m not scared of them,” I say, with a careless shrug.

“Maybe you should be.”

“Why? Are you?”

He laughs again, but I think I know the answer. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a curious girl. Besides, I want to get to know my new
friend
.” I pick up a book and flip idly through it. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

I shake my head. “Let me rephrase the question.
What
are you? You’re not like them.” I jerk my head in the direction of the other customers. “But I don’t think you’re like me, either. You’re something else.”

He grins, apparently pleased by my deduction. “I told Elias you’re more than just another mind-reader.” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Too bad I can’t answer your questions. Code of silence. You should understand.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards. The gifted always keep a low profile, but an enforceable code of silence is old-school. Modern gifted don’t band together anymore – a slightly odd loner is far easier to dismiss than a whole gang of freaks. But the Cresta Crew don’t operate like ordinary freaks. They stick together as if they have no choice. Maybe they don’t.

“If you’re not going to tell me anything, why are you here?” I ask, trying to look past Duma’s eyes. His barrier is so effortless that I don’t even feel the resistance. It’s like walking into a puff of smoke.

His only response is a broader grin, which only adds to my frustration. It’s difficult to be annoyed with him for long, though – he’s too damn cute. He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “You’re a telepath and a medium. Anything else?”

I decide not to mention my burgeoning talent for seeing through BS. I can be mysterious, too. “Tell me your gifts and I’ll tell you mine.”

“I told you, it’s forbidden. Code of – ”

“Silence, ja, you mentioned that,” I sneer. “What are you, some kind of gifted mafia? What are you boys so afraid of?”

He smiles but doesn’t answer.

I take a deep breath. I’m fighting a losing battle here. “At least tell me what you have against Rakwena.”

“Who?” Ah…too quick. And that puzzled frown wouldn’t even fool Kelly.

“My boyfriend. Tall, lizard tattoo, scar on his face. You should remember. The last time you saw us you couldn’t take your eyes off him.”

“We were curious,” he replies, once again too quickly. “A couple as gifted as the two of you is rare.”

“How do you know he’s gifted?”

“How did you know
we
were gifted?”

My turn to smile. I study his face, searching for a way in. “I know something is up with you guys, and it has to do with Rakwena. What are you up to?”

His smile falters and for the first time he seems to reconsider the bright idea of hanging out with the mind reader. I still can’t get past his mental barrier, but I can pick up the signals from his body language. The boy’s starting to panic. He’s probably wondering whether the wall that keeps me out of his head is strong enough.

He puts back the book he was holding. “I have to go.” Just like that.

“Duma, wait…” I follow him, but by the time I reach the shop entrance he’s out of sight.

He’s scared. If I were ungifted his reticence would make sense, but I’m different, too. I don’t understand these boys. They must see that Spencer’s bad for Kelly, but they’re not doing anything about it. Duma keeps seeking me out, but refuses to open up. What is it that they think not even another freak can handle? And what does all of this have to do with Rakwena?

***

I’ve been toying with Lebz’s idea of using emotional blackmail to get my dad and grandfather to work together. I hate the idea of using my mother’s memory to manipulate anyone, and while Dad might succumb, Ntatemogolo is likely to lose his temper and turn me into one of those fat crickets that pop up in summer. Figuratively speaking, of course.

I decide to wait to see how things play out. I don’t expect Dad and Ntatemogolo to become best friends; I just don’t want to feel like a Brahman bull coveted by two crafty farmers.

Ntatemogolo sends me an SMS on Monday, telling me he’s back and wants to see me. Unfortunately, Dad has picked today to work from home. Normally I’d be glad to spend a day with him, even if he’ll be staring at a computer screen the whole time, but I’m not looking forward to the inevitable awkward moment when I tell him I’m going to my grandfather’s house.

I attempt to be sneaky about it. I pick up my schoolbag, empty except for my wallet and a notebook, and head for the door. “I’m going out. I’ll be back for supper.”

“Where are you going, love?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. Clearly he’s not focusing on his work, or he wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to ask. “Um, you know. Just to hang around.”

“With your friends?”

“Uh…no.” I don’t want him calling Lebz’s house and discovering that she hasn’t seen me all day.

“Rakwena?”

“Not really…”

Dad stops typing and turns to face me. “You’re going to Bontleng, aren’t you?”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I won’t be gone long.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but I can hear his thoughts whizzing about. He’s worried – but also determined. Uh-oh. “Let me drop you off.”

I stare at him in shock. “Dad, you’re busy!” I splutter.

He’s already on his feet, looking for the car keys. “I could do with a break.”

I’m thrown. I want him and Ntatemogolo to call a truce, but I can tell that Dad has something else in mind altogether. On the other hand, maybe there’s no way to orchestrate a civilised discussion between them. Maybe I should just let them go at it, and hope it turns out for the best.

“Let’s go.” He marches towards me with an expression of grim resolve.

I lock up the house and walk quietly to the car. The drive is tense. Dad tries to make conversation, but I’m too nervous to talk. After about half an hour, Dad parks in front of Ntatemogolo’s gate.

“Thanks,” I tell him quickly, climbing out of the passenger seat. He’s already releasing his seatbelt and opening his door.

“I want to have a word with him.” He follows me through the gate, and my anxiety turns to panic.

He’s angry already, and he hasn’t even seen Ntatemogolo yet! Maybe this is a bad idea after all. When these two get going it can turn into verbal bloodbath, and this time there’ll be no escape.

“Dad, are you sure you want to do this now? Maybe today’s not a good day. You have so much work to do, remember?”

He scowls at me. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to talk to him? Is there something I should be worried about?”

“I’m just trying to avoid another argument,” I tell him, blocking his path.

“Don’t be silly. It’ll take two minutes – there won’t be time for an argument.” He steps around me. I don’t know where this resolve is coming from, and I don’t like it. I miss the quiet, uncertain Dad who trusted my opinion.

The door opens and Ntatemogolo’s smile takes one glance at my father and makes a run for it. My heart sinks into my dusty All-Stars.

“Lerumo,” my father says stiffly. He insists on calling Ntatemogolo by his first name though he knows how much he hates it.

“Good to see you, Raymond. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

I shake my head, waiting for the fur to fly – hang on. Did Ntatemogolo just say it was good to see Dad? My head jerks upright. Dad has paused mid-step, apparently as nonplussed by Ntatemogolo’s civility as I am.

“Uh…er…all right.” Dad takes a few wary steps forward.

“Come in.” Ntatemogolo steps back into the house.

I follow Dad inside, feeling a little queasy. What is my grandfather up to? Please don’t let this be some kind of convoluted trick to humiliate my father while his guard is down. I remain standing, Ntatemogolo pulls up a chair and Dad lowers himself into the sole armchair. He looks utterly out of place, and I realise I’ve never seen him sitting in this room before.

“I’ll just get to the point,” says Ntatemogolo. “I know you have concerns regarding my relationship with Connie. We won’t get into that now – I am not interested in arguing with you about it. The important thing is that we both have her well-being at heart, yes?”

“Of course.” Dad is frowning so intently I’m afraid his features will harden like that.

“Then it seems to me that the thing to do is make some attempt to…ah…meet each other halfway.” Ntatemogolo clears his throat. “The Salinger Institute has asked me if I would be interested in working with you on their latest project. I understand there are several other academics working on different aspects of it, and I have agreed to offer my services to them as well. So, Raymond, if you are willing, perhaps the two of us can work together.”

Dad’s mouth opens and closes several times. He blinks. His face pales, then reddens, then settles into a sort of blotchy canvas. “You want to work on my project?”

“As a consultant,” Ntatemogolo clarifies. “We will hardly have to see each other apart from the occasional meeting. Dr Whitman made me aware that this is an important project for Botswana, and I would like to be involved.”

I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. Of the pair of them, I always thought Dad was the less pig-headed, the one more likely to cave simply because he was too tired to fight anymore. I never thought in a million years that my proud, sometimes haughty grandfather would make a gesture like this. Then again, I’ve only really known him for a few years. Maybe I don’t know him at all.

Dad gulps. He’s shocked, but also relieved. “Well. I must say, this is a surprise. I see no reason why we can’t find a way to work together. As you said, it’s an important project.” He runs a hand through his hair and throws me a stunned glance before looking at Ntatemogolo once again. “I’ll send you all the relevant information as soon as I get home.”

“Excellent.” Ntatemogolo nods curtly. “Now, I’d like to spend some time with my granddaughter.”

After my grandfather’s display of good form there’s no way Dad can begrudge him a little quality time with me.