It’s been seven weeks now.

Tom’s photo of my class was there in the newspaper. He made a blow-up of it so I could pin it up in my classroom. The kiddies love looking at it, love finding themselves in the picture: dotted around the soccer field with their books and their rulers.

I love looking at it too. It’s a picture of the moment my future changed forever, the moment Tom walked into my life.

We’ve gone out on many dates. Tom has taken me to a fashion shoot. And an awards evening. And a political rally. Sometimes he leaves his camera behind and we go out on a proper date: just the two of us in a cosy restaurant, or to the beach. Even, last weekend, up into the mountains to stay at a lodge overnight. Which was wonderful – better than any dream.

He always picks me up and drops me off at Veronica’s house. Or at school if it’s a week day. Or at the coffee-shop down Third Street.

He keeps asking, “So when do I get invited to your home?”

I keep answering, “Soon.”

He keeps saying, “I hope you don’t have a husband stashed away, Tiny!”

Veronica is on my case.

She whispers to me before assembly, “This is crazy, Tiny! How long are you going to keep this up? Surely if you two are in love, it’s time he meets your sister?”

But the very thought fills me with dread.

And at home Nomvula is getting suspicious too.

“I hardly ever see you these days,” says my sister. “What are you getting up to?”

“Just out with friends,” I lie. “And I had to attend a series of teaching workshops.”

I’m getting tired of all this lying. But it’s the only way.

Nomvula looks at me keenly. “You aren’t dating a married man, are you? Please tell me you aren’t involved with some guy with a wife and kids!”

But Nomvula is also acting a little strange. A little different. These days, when she brushes her teeth, she looks into the mirror. In fact, she spends quite a lot of time looking at herself in the mirror, even when she isn’t brushing her teeth. And smiling, as if she likes what she sees.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“It’s Asahi,” she answers. “It’s this guy I met. He says I should be happy about my looks. I should enjoy my face.”

“Asahi? Who’s Asahi?” I’ve never heard a name like that before. Is he a foreigner, I wonder.

“Just some guy I know. He’s really nice.”

I’m thinking: maybe this is great news. Maybe this is the best thing ever? If Nomvula has a steady boyfriend, maybe things will be different. Easier.

“So is he your boyfriend?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nothing like that. He’s much too old. But he’s a really good guy. He’s trying to sort out a job for me.”

Now I am the one feeling suspicious. “What kind of job?”

“Modelling. He says I have the perfect face for modelling. He says my face is a gift from God and I must be grateful for it. He says I have the kind of face that makes people happy just looking at it. What do you reckon, Tiny?”

I look at my sister, at the beautiful almond shape of her eyes, at the golden tinge of her cheeks, the exquisite curve of her mouth. I nod.

“Yes, Nomvula. Looking at you would cheer anyone up. They would forget all their troubles.”

But I am worried about this Asahi character.

***

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