“No, no, no… you are wrong, Julius Malema is a good leader,” Ntsika’s high-pitched voice seemed to echo itself all around the cafeteria. A few nosy faces turned away from their plates momentarily to look at him with eyes that questioned his table manners. The University of the Free State was a very sensitive place to mention anything to do with politics.

“Serves you right,” said Olwethu smiling spitefully when he realised how embarrassed his friend looked. “Maybe this time you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut,” he added laughing.

Ntsika looked daggers at him for pouring petrol on a burning man, making him feel more embarrassed.

“C’mon you guys, stop it, do I always have to be the adult?” Thando said irritated. He was tired of always finding himself stuck monkey-in-the-middle between his two friends, and their stupid arguments about anything.

This pair could not agree on a single thing. If the other said the sky is black, the other one would make sure to argue that it is white.

They were like the true representation of the yin/yang concept. Even though, they argued a lot they were still good friends. Albeit, good friends who had nothing in common.

“Talk to him, it’s not me who thinks that the greatest fool ever to come out of South Africa is a capable leader,” said Olwethu munching greedily at the chicken burger that was in his big, fat hands.

He often got much flak from his friends for eating too much. But that was nothing compared to when he was in Grade 12, and his friends called him “Piggy”, after they had read William Golding’s classic allegorical book, Lord of the Flies.

Thanks God, he had passed matric very well, and got admitted to university and had had the last laugh.

That was a good three years ago, but every time he thought of it he smiled to himself. He was now in his third year, and studying towards a degree in social work at the beautiful University in the city of roses.

He was proud. His mother was proud of him. His small village in the Eastern Cape was proud of him, too – they regarded him with a sense of importance and respect. In those very rare occasions that he paid a visit home, the village would roll out whatever was the equivalent of a red-carpet, and a sense of festivity could be felt in the atmosphere of the village throughout his short stay at home.

Everybody respected him, except some of his friends who felt that he had done them bad by going to university because their parents always compared them to him. But he regarded their malevolence towards him only as a result of envy; he didn’t allow it to bother him.

Why would he? He now had new friends. Although, they sometimes made fun about his eating habits, they never call him Piggy.

“I once read somewhere that stress and food don’t go well together, the combination only makes you bigger,” the high-pitched voice of Ntsika brought him out of his reverie. Out of shock his big hands lost grasp of the burger in his hands. He watched it fall down on the dirty floor.

Curse words of all kinds flashed into his mind at the speed of light – he was going to curse and scream insults at Ntsika. Or that’s what he thought he was going to, before he saw her for the first time…

It was as if lightning had struck him, his mouth slightly opened, eyes fixed at the door and the body stock-still like statues in fashion shops. Thando and Ntsika stared at him with expecting eyes, but neither sound nor words came out of his mouth. It was as if he was staring through them.

When they had finally located his eyes, they both turned to look at what held their friend captive so much that he had slipped into another trance in a matter of minutes.

“Be… hold!” said Ntsika also lost for words. Never had he seen such innocent beauty in his life; such well-placed body features.

She had ebony-black hair that fell over her small shoulders, a beautiful round face and a million dollar smile. She could have been a model for any magazine, her dress sense was simply gorgeous – a brown polka dotted summer dress that complimented her caramel brown skin.

Three guys sitting at a table not far from where Ntsika and his friends sat, cat-called her and whistled, like vultures seeing a piece of meat. She walked on pretending to be unperturbed, her unsteady gait sold her out – all she wanted was to get out of that room and the sight of all those eyes that stripped her naked.

Just as she had come, she walked out like a mouse retreating back to its hole. She was gone like a breeze of air, all she left behind was the smell of her perfume.

“Bloody amateurs,” cursed Ntsika, as Olwethu sat down completely forgotten about the burger that had fallen down, “that’s not how you treat that kind of a woman. You don’t whistle like some savage in the bush,” his high-pitched voice reigned supreme in that quiet cafeteria, but this time no one turned to look at him. Maybe, they were all discussing that ‘marvellously beautiful girl in a brown summer dress’.

“Aha, calm down, it’s not like you could have done something better,” Thando’s voice was challenging.

And Ntsika not being one to back down from a challenge continued, “My dear clueless friend, you see that kind of woman…” he pointed with his hands at the direction in which she had walked out.

“That woman needs a man who can roam her mind and know exactly what she is thinking. A psychologist, like me, my boy! I would get her any day I like,” he finished the last words in a sense of bravado, touching Thando’s broad shoulder like a father would when advising a child on serious matters of life.

Olwethu’s eyes were moving from one to the other, wanting to stop them not to discuss her as if she were a parcel they could just go and get. For a moment he felt like the adult. Maybe, he felt like Thando usually does when he and Ntsika are arguing.

“I dare you, my friend,” Thando said, shrugging Ntsika’s hand off his shoulder.

“You dare me?” Ntsika questioned in disbelief.

“Yes, I do!” Thando’s voice was adamant and unyielding.

“Deal!” he said, extending his hand. They shook hands like two devils signing the fate of an innocent unaware angel. Olwethu watched on helplessly, feeling that this to his friends was all a game. A dangerous game that will end in heart break, he thought bitterly, but he could say nothing fearing that he would be called a chicken, and not a pig.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you think it’s a good thing to bet over winning someone? Have you done it?