Each day that led up to the start of final exams seemed slower than the last. Karabo tried to make herself study her notes but every time she re-read them, she found her mind drifting to William, what she would do next year and where she would live in Cape Town if she didn’t get into a residence. Absolutely anything would pop into her head when she tried to revise. She was so insanely bored of the same work and would eventually give up and go and play basketball by herself, then try to study again.

Karabo also invented new ways to waste time — like refolding her laundry — just to avoid working through the notes again. Luckily, Maths was better to study as there were always some past exam papers floating around that she could work on. Karabo would watch Isla reading her notes, her lips moving in line with the words on her page. She had no idea how Isla could feel enthusiastic about the content of their notes anymore?

‘Aren’t you bored of it?’ she asked Isla one afternoon. Isla looked up at her confused, ‘Bored of what?’

‘This,’ said Karabo, waving her notes in the air, ‘the same old stuff we’ve been studying for half a year.’

Isla sat back. ‘Ya,’ she said, ‘But it’s not like I got 100 per cent in those exams, Karabs. I can do better and the thought of flunking and staying here for another year makes me more excited about my notes than not having my brother home for the holidays!’ said Isla, pointing her nose to the sky and crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

Karabo blinked. She hadn’t expected Isla’s response.

‘Damn, I guess you’re right,’ said Karabo, slapping her notes back on her table, ‘I didn’t get 100 per cent either. OK, I’ll focus. Sorry, as you were,’ said Karabo readjusting her seat and looking back at her notes.

Isla watched Karabo, ‘Can I say something?’ she asked. Karabo turned back to Isla, ‘Yup.’

‘I’m so glad you are doing psychology next year. It’s going to  be so much better. I would have completely lost you as a mate if you’d done medicine. All my friends say that their friends who do medicine become mega nerds and just study all the time. Now at least we can still see each other,’ said Isla, smiling broadly.

Karabo chuckled. ‘Me too. I think that next year will be rad.’

‘Now,’ she sighed, ‘to make sure I get there.’ Karabo began to work through her notes with renewed enthusiasm.

Karabo and Isla fell into a routine of preparing for each exam, writing the paper and celebrating the end of a subject. This usually included a trip into town with one of the other matrics who had a car, stuffing their faces with pastries and then coming back to school with bloated tummies and sugar headaches. Karabo had insisted this was necessary because they were leaving Dayeton College, and who knew if there would be a bakery in Cape Town that made decent custard tarts.

After their History exam (and three custard tarts each), Karabo and Isla were walking back to the parking lot in town, to meet Paul and Kaitlyn. Isla’s prediction had been correct — the two had fallen head over heels in love and spent every waking second together. Paul also had a car, which Isla, as matchmaker, felt was her right to use too. And so, Paul was often asked to drive them to and from town. He never refused, of course, as long as they could convince Kaitlyn to come along too.

As they passed a travel agency, they noticed one of the travel agents standing and gesticulating at the TV to her colleague. As Karabo slowed down to look at the screen, she saw mayhem somewhere in the world. Rusty Jeeps were moving down a street of a town that looked like it had been attacked. Litter blew wildly across the street and people ran in different directions in the background. Even though she couldn’t hear the news reporter, the subtitles spelt the story out clearly enough:

“Civil war breaks out in Madagascar. People of Madagascar tired of corruption. Army storming capital and fighters now heading to Nosy Be island”

Karabo felt the blood drain from her face as she leaned into the glass window.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Isla, noticing Karabo had stopped to watch the TV. Isla walked back to Karabo and peered at the TV through the window.

The text changed to read:

“All foreigners and holidaymakers are leaving Madagascar and all inbound flights are on hold until stability returns. The militia have warned they will be targeting ‘le criminel’ who are behind the corruption of the government”

Isla looked at Karabo. ‘I’m sorry, Karabs. I know William is still there. But his dad is super powerful, and he’ll get them out,’ said Isla, patting Karabo on the back absentmindedly, as she continued to watch the chaotic televised images.

Karabo closed her eyes. She needed to shut it all out. The militia was definitely going to attack Edward’s Libertalia estate. That meant that his pirate haven wouldn’t be safe from thousands of angry people who felt they had been wronged. All the corrupt government officials would be captured and tried or killed. How was William going to get off Nosy Be? Karabo didn’t see Edward giving up his Libertalia easily or without a fight. She knew he was going to try to stay there and make his sons fight with him.