“She’s looking at you, Cebo-dog.” Fundi bumps his shoulder against mine. “That Khethi. Told you she likes you.”

I bump him back. “Maybe,” I say, like it’s no big deal, but then I just have to go and ask, “You think, bhuti?”

“For sure.” Fundi lowers his voice because now we’re close enough for Khethi and the others to hear.

They’re hanging around outside the science laboratory, waiting for us. Us – we’re from a part of Matsulu where the school doesn’t have a lab and we don’t get to wear nice green uniforms with a school badge on them, just plain white shirts and grey pants or skirts.

I lift my shoulder, let it drop, all casual. “I don’t know. Cheesegirl like that?”

I look Khethi’s way, but she’s not looking at me now, busy talking to one of her friends. It’s weird how some people’s faces are arranged so perfectly, but if you take the different parts separately, like eyes or noses, chins or cheeks, they’re nothing special on their own. Khethi’s is like that.

I’ve been noticing her since the first time our Grade 11 science class walked over here. The two schools had arranged for us to come and share lab work lessons twice a week.

And according to Fundi, she’s been noticing me.

That makes me feel good, but at the same time the nervous feeling in my stomach gets a bit tighter, like a fist closing. What if I try talking to her? Or if she wants to talk to me? What if I smell from the rubbish dump yesterday? At home there’s mostly only cold water for washing, and sometimes Toothpick Sibiya bans the tenants from using his outside tap anyway.

Only, all that doesn’t matter, because there’s not going to be any talking to each other – not with the science teacher arriving and telling her pupils to go in first.

“And spread yourselves out, please, one to a bench,” she tells them, and looks at us visitors. “As of today, I want to mix the two schools up, get you used to working together.”

There’s some muttering as she moves over to the classroom door to check that her learners are obeying her.

“I don’t wanna mix with that lot,” Luba complains. “They look at us like we’re dirt.”

“Not the science crowd,” I say, because it’s true. “It’s the others. Outside.”

We’ve taken our share of comments, arriving and making our way to the lab. Stuff about the way we look and what we’re wearing.

“Yebo, you’re right,” Jongile agrees. “I wonder how come?”

“Because science is seri-aaaas,” Fundi jokes. “We’re all over-achievers together.”

I don’t know. I’m not much of an achiever of any sort these days, because I’ve missed so much school since everything happened. I mean, I’m really starting to struggle, especially with science and maths, and I’m getting worried about exams.

The fist in my stomach does a bit of grinding.

“Come in now, please,” the teacher calls.

Fundi does the shoulder-thing again. “Look for Khethi and charge.”

I don’t get that lucky. Ms Vilane directs us one by one to the different high benches that are made for two, but at least I’m in the same row as Khethi and close enough to see her. I like the shape of her head, and the way her sweet, serious face suddenly opens up into a smile when she gets something Ms Vilane is saying as she talks us through a new experiment.

I still feel awkward, sitting up on the high lab stool, like I might lose my balance and fall, but it’s getting better. The boy I work with is quiet and clever, and I’m lucky to be with him, even if I’d rather be with Khethi. Except that with her I might be too nervous and self-conscious to focus on the work.

It’s break when the lesson finishes. We come out of the lab and there are kids hanging around everywhere. Some of them mock us visitors, and we move a little closer together, like it makes us stronger.

Then I stop, paralysed by what I’m seeing. A group of boys standing around another who is holding up a bright yellow cigarette lighter and –

“He’s burning money.” I hear how my voice shakes.

“Take no notice.” It’s Khethi, like a miracle, come to stand beside me.

“Stupid wannabe izikhothane. See them in civvies out of school and you’ll realise what no-swag fakes they are. They get their clothes and stuff from the same shops as the rest of us.”

I look at her and it’s like there’s a drum going mad behind my ribs. I want to smile at her, but I can’t. I’m a whole pile-up of feelings: awe of her and anger with that boy burning money.

“Yes, but…” I have to stop because I don’t know how to put my feelings into words.

“I know.” Khethi’s voice is like soft rain. “It’s still money, even if it is only a ten rand note. It’s sort of an insult, right?”

Only ten rand. That tells me something about the distance between us. I look at Fundi. A frown is pulling his thick eyebrows together. Things are hard at home for him too, with only his gogo’s pension.

“You wouldn’t see it at our school!” I tell her, fierce and hard.

“I guess.” She looks troubled, like the way I spoke has disturbed her, but then her smile breaks out. “Hey, I think it’s so cool, our schools joining up for lab work, don’t you? I’m Khethi, by the way.”

“I know,” I say, and now I have to smile too; I can’t help myself. “I’m Cebo.”

“I know,” she says and we both laugh and then just stand there smiling at each other, probably looking seriously stupid, until she carries on. “So? See you guys Friday, right?”

“Yeb–,” I start to say but she’s already swinging away to go join her friends.

“I know. I’m Cebo,” Fundi mocks me. “You charmza, like you call that a smooth move? Told you she’s into you, bhuti.”

My mouth doesn’t want to stop smiling.

“I think I might be having a good day,” I say, and the stomach nerves flutter, like saying it will make something bad happen. “I’m telling you, Fundi. I think Friday might become my favourite day again. The science and Khethi.”

“Sell-out.” Fundi punches my arm. “Like, what about today, Tuesday? Science and diski.”

“I might be having a very good day.” I punch him back.

“A girl made you forget? Forget soccer?”

“It’s amazing the way Coach Phiri is getting us matches all over.” I’m not going to try and explain how special I find Khethi. “Not just Matsulu schools.”

“Right, KaNyamazane and Malelane. We could go far, you and me and the rest. And until last year there was no sport at school!”

“Never mind that our pitch is mostly dirt and we have to share it with that church team.”

We’re still talking soccer at the end of our dusty walk back to school. It almost seems meant to be when we see Coach Phiri, this dude who came and started the soccer team. I knew I could be a good striker from fooling around with Fundi and the others, and it turned out I was right because he put me in the team.

When he calls me over, I think he’s going to say something about practice this afternoon.

He looks at me for a bit, saying nothing. Then he says, “Cebo. Don’t trouble coming to practice today. I’m dropping you from the team.”

***

Tell us what you think: Why might Cebo have been dropped from the soccer team? Does he stand a chance with Khethi?