The ride home was uneventful. The Grade 10 boys once again turned around and made small talk with Isla and Karabo. They all lamented that, despite winning the final game, they were not the overall winners of the derby. St Josephs had won more of the other matches, and Dayeton College had only scraped into second place because of a minor win against one of the up- country schools.

The sun had set when the bus pulled into Dayeton College, giving off a grey light that made everything fuzzy around the edges. The exhausted teens piled out into the school quad and made their way to their dorms. Mr BS had wanted to give a congratulatory speech of sorts, and stood with his chest puffed out as the students left the buses, but once he saw how all the students looked, he thought better of it and let everyone go.

Isla and Karabo let their two roommates take to the showers first. It would give them time to finally talk in private about what had happened on their way to the derby. They both agreed that talking about it at St Joseph’s would have been a bad idea. You never knew who was listening over your shoulder in the stands.

Karabo slumped onto her bed. ‘What an insane day,’ she stated. ‘Sangomas, scary parents, William smoking. Urgh, so weird,’ she said, rattling off her list as she stared at the ceiling, wide eyed.

‘William smoking!’ shouted Isla, ‘You didn’t tell me about that!’, said Isla, sitting on her bed looking at Karabo accusingly. Karabo sighed, still staring at the ceiling.

‘You would have told me to call a teacher. I know you, Isla,’ said Karabo.

‘I would not!’ retorted Isla sharply, feeling slightly hurt that Karabo thought she was a squealer. But she knew she’d have found a way to get him caught – he deserved it.

Karabo turned her head to look at Isla and saw the hurt on her face, her perfect mouth pouting. ‘Sorry, Isla,’ said Karabo, watching the pout dissolve.

‘So, what do you think that stuff meant in the sangoma’s hut?’ asked Karabo, changing the subject. Isla scrunched up her face. It was her thinking face, so Karabo waited patiently for her to respond. It was better not to interrupt Isla’s thinking process. Karabo had learned this. A few more minutes passed and Karabo thought she may fall asleep. Isla’s voice eventually penetrated her drifting thoughts. ‘Did we all see the same thing?’ Isla asked. Karabo hadn’t thought about that. She assumed they had all seen the same thing, surely. ‘What did you see?’ Karabo asked, intrigued that they could possibly have seen different things in the sangoma’s hut.

‘I saw a battlefield of warriors fighting an army of colonialists. I saw men on large sailing boats. They looked like, I know this is going to sound crazy, and maybe I watch too much Pirates of the Caribbean, but they looked like pirates. Then there was that guy, who looked like Cecil John Rhodes, you know the colonialist, and he was giving that pirate guy something. Doubloons?’ she snorted, making light of the strangeness, before continuing. ‘Then we were back at the battlefield, and that pirate captain was there, shooting at the warriors, along with red coats,’ she said.

Her face showed that she was confused. Isla was a history buff, especially on South African history. Karabo remembered how she had made her parents take her on those Natal battlefield tours. The thought of doing that on holiday made staying at school seem delightful. History was not Karabo’s vibe.

Karabo looked up at the ceiling again. ‘We saw the same thing,’ she said flatly. Isla flopped back into her bed and also studied the ceiling. ‘Well, that’s good, I guess. It means we probably all saw the same thing. Mzi and William too,’ said Isla, the exhaustion of the day making her feel drowsy. ‘I wonder what it all means?’ Isla said before she slowly closed her eyes. As Karabo turned to look at Isla, she felt herself slip into sleep.

When Jess and Tash returned to their dorm after their shower, they found Isla and Karabo on their beds, fully clothed, fast asleep. Jess shrugged her shoulders, and she and Tash got dressed in silence and slipped into their beds, turning the lights off to end a long day.

The next morning, Karabo woke feeling groggy. Her eyelids felt stuck shut, and she groaned when the alarm went off, before covering her head with her duvet.

‘Wake up, lazy bones,’ she heard Isla command. Karabo lay dead still. She wanted to sleep forever.

Isla’s full weight bounced on her bed, and she felt Isla’s hand shove at her bum. ‘Come oooon! I’ve done some googling and I want to show you something.’

Karabo continued to ignore her.

‘It’s about you know who!’ she said at the top of her voice.

Karabo sat up instantly and threw back her covers. She glared at Isla, looking across the room to see if Jess and Tash were there.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. They went to netball training ages ago anyway. Come, look here, I decided to check out Mr English,’ said Isla, as she shuffled closer to Karabo, who had now slouched back against her headboard.

‘Are you stalking William on social media?’ asked Karabo, horrified that Isla would even bother, seeing as she hated him so much.

‘What? No man. Not the creepo. Ew, gross. Although…only kidding,’ said Isla, as Karabo’s face revealed her thoughts.

‘Edward English, William’s father. I thought I would find out about him. A man like that looks as though he could have enemies. And boy does he!’ she said as she pushed her mobile into Karabo’s sleepy face.

‘Look here,’ she said pointing at an article. ‘It says that Mr English is suspected of being part of, or leading, a massive crime syndicate. But they can’t ever pin anything on him. So, he moves around every few years.’

‘That’s terrible, Isla. No wonder William’s accent is so weird. He’s probably lived all over the world. Hectic to have a dad like that, too. Wonder what he was talking to Mr Khumalo about?’

‘Hmmm,’ responded Isla as she scrolled further down the article on her mobile. ‘Oh my word, look at this!’ said Isla, her big eyes wide, ‘it says here that English’s successful “import/export” business was originally started by his pirate ancestors, a fact he is proud to admit!’

‘That’s crazy! I mean really. Pirates? Isn’t he too old to believe in pirates?’ responded Karabo

‘I know. So weird. Anyway, I think that explains why William is an odd bod. And now you have to listen to me and stop swooning over him. OK?’ demanded Isla

‘OK,’ responded Karabo, relatively certain of her resolve.