So many reasons to be upset. Nolitha leaned her head against the seat behind her and closed her eyes. The events of the day formed a scrambled collage in her mind. Mr Mahlangu’s voice, oily and patronising. “My dear Miss Solani, restrain yourself, please.” Fifty students crammed into a small pre-fab classroom, shocked, and angry. A line of policemen, batons raised. Her brother Vuyani, his face incredulous. Nolitha shook her head at the last image. She was too tired to think about her brother, to worry about what he might be saying to her mother right now.

But still the images kept coming, crowding in on her. White hot, blood red, steaming with rage.

So much anger, building. A dry keg of gunpowder, waiting for one small spark to send it all rocketing sky high. Just one small spark.

Tuesday, 9 February 2016

8.30 p.m.

My battery. Nolitha texted Jama. Not much left.

Where are you, Nols? We’ve been waiting all afternoon.

Roller-coaster ride, she typed quickly. All over, everywhere. Driving’s better now. Calming down. Not so mad. Think we might be stopping soon.

Use your GPS, Nols, fast as you can.

Of course! How stupid of her. That would tell them where they were. She looked around. The students were quiet now. Tired and scared. Fungile lay with his head in Bonelwa’s lap, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Babalwa’s head was between her knees and Nolitha could tell the girl was still crying. She looked at her watch. 8.30 p.m. and it was almost dark. They had to be stopping soon.

She opened Google Maps and a maze of streets of appeared. And there – on a corner – a police station. Nolitha didn’t know whether to be glad or scared. At least this nightmare journey had to be ending, but what would happen next?

She sent a quick WhatsApp to Jama giving him directions. 13% her phone read, but the message went through.

His answer came back immediately.

We’re on our way, Noli. Don’t let them charge anyone until we get there.

Good!

No sooner had Nolitha hit Send than the van rolled to a halt.

A final message flashed up from Jama.

Hold tight, babe.

Nolitha blushed.

“Babe, Miss?” Bonelwa had seen the message.

Heads lifted. Smiles lit tired faces for the first time that day.

Nolitha’s face was hot with embarrassment “No, no, it’s just an expression. He says that to everyone.”

“Whooo hooo,” Fungile chirped. Nolitha noticed his pallor for the umpteenth time that day, the deep rings under his eyes. He was smiling delightedly. “What did I tell you? Benditheni kuwe? What did I tell you? Miss is too kind, too, too gorgeous not to have a good man at her side.”

Another message pinged through.

Sorry! Sorry! Don’t know how that slipped out.

“What’s he saying now, Miss?”

“Ayinamsebenzi. Never you mind!” Nolitha smiled, then stiffened as she heard the sound of another engine being cut. She scrambled to her feet and looked through the smudged window. Another police van had parked close to them. As she watched, another arrived. Soon all five were parked next to each other.

“Cebo!” she yelled into the dark. “Cebo, are you there?”

“Yes, Miss,” the answer came back clearly from the van beside them.

“Ohhh.” Nolitha slumped onto the bench, biting back on the tears choking her throat. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice! Wonk’umnt’right? Is everyone okay?”

“Andi’s face is badly bruised, Miss.”

“Take photos,” she called. “Pass the message along. Take photos of any injuries. Tell the others to let me know they’re okay.”

She looked at her phone. 7%. Damn! No way could she use a flash. “Anyone with a phone here?”

“Mine’s flat, sorry, Miss.” Dalumuzi was apologetic. “I forgot to charge it this morning”

“Ukhon’omye? Anyone else?”

Babalwa raised her head. “Mine’s okay, Miss.”

“Can you take a photo of Wezi’s leg?”

The phone flashed four times.

“Good girl! Well done. You did exactly what I said and saved your battery! You’ve helped us all so much, Babs! So much.”

***

Tell us what you think: Why do you think the police have driven them around for so long?