Why was Zinzi walking like that, with her arms crossed over her school bag, clutching it to her chest? Usually she walked with it slung over one shoulder.

School had just ended for Wednesday, and Luyanda was on his way out when he saw Zinzi.

One of her extra maths lessons with Mase, he guessed, seeing her stop outside the teacher’s class and pull in a big breath. She seemed to shudder as she let it out again. Then she walked into the classroom and closed the door behind her.

Maybe he should interrupt them, and put a stop to whatever was going on, or at least scare Mase into leaving Zinzi alone.

Impulsively, Luyanda strode forward and tried to open the door, but it was locked.

Right, that in itself was suspicious. A closed door was one thing, but a locked one? Anger rose in Luyanda, and he lifted his hand and knocked on the door, so hard it hurt his knuckles.

There was no answer. Mr Mase must be pretending he’d already left and that there was no one there inside. With Zinzi backing up his pretence? Or was he forcing her into silence?

Luyanda frowned. He had to do something, but what? He turned away from the door, hoping to get a look through one of the classroom windows here on the corridor side of the classroom, but he was out of luck. Mr Mase must be one of those teachers who believed staff or visitors passing by during lessons were a distraction to the learners. What looked like homemade blinds covered the windows; they were very dark blue and uglier than the pretty curtains some teachers put up at their own expense.

Luyanda cursed softly. All the windows were closed otherwise he could have stuck in a hand and lifted one of the blinds.

“Looking for Mr Mase? He must have gone home already.”

Ever since knocking, Luyanda had been vaguely aware of someone approaching from the end of the corridor. Now Mrs Nombembe paused beside him, smiling.

“I … Yes, ma’am.”

Her smile gave way to a puzzled look. “But he doesn’t teach you matrics, so why would you need to see him?”

“I … I thought I saw Zinzi Gasa,” Luyanda explained quickly.

Why thought? He knew he’d seen her.

“Of course, she sees him for extra maths.” Now Mrs Nombembe seemed to be troubled about something. “Is she a friend of yours?”

“Yes.” Luyanda didn’t hesitate to answer, because whatever Zinzi might think when she was in one of her moods, they were friends. “We both play for Westside Club.”

“It’s good to have outside interests like that, especially for a girl with Zinzi’s energy – although I have to say that energy seems to have gone missing lately.” Mrs Nombembe paused, and then she smiled at Luyanda. “I must be on my way. I need to drop these off at the office before I go home.”

Luyanda wasn’t sure if she was hinting that he should help her with the stack of files she was carrying, but he offered anyway, the way he usually did when he saw teachers laden with books or boxes or files. It cost him nothing, and sometimes remembering his good manners made them less strict when he was in trouble, mostly for not handing in work on time.

“I wish there were more like you,” Mrs Nombembe said as they walked along to the school office, but she seemed distracted. “Luyanda, has Zinzi said anything to you about Mr Mase? When he first came to Harmony High from the Eastern Cape, I thought I remembered my sister talking about a teacher of the same name at the school where she was teaching in Gcuwa … Butterworth, you know?”

Luyanda felt a spike of excited hope at this chance to learn something about Mase.

“Can’t you check with your sister, ma’am?”

“I wish I could.” There was a heaviness to the way Mrs Nombembe spoke. “She died in a bus accident early last year.”

“Eish. Sorry, so sorry, Mrs Nombembe.” Luyanda was embarrassed at having forced her to speak about something so tragic.

“I miss her badly, even though we mostly only spoke on the phone and only saw each other maybe once in every two years.” It was clearly an effort for her to smile at that moment. “Well, it was probably nothing important, the thing about Mr Mase, if it was him, or just another teacher with the same name. I’ll never know. Mr Mase – our Mr Mase – doesn’t like talking about himself.”

Hadn’t he heard that the school principal had been the deputy head at a school in the Eastern Cape before coming to Harmony High?

Frustration made Luyanda want to punch a wall or something. It wasn’t his place to urge Mrs Nombembe to try and find out if the principal might have known Mr Mase before. It would come across as if he was being pushy, or wanting to get hold of some gossip. Harmony High’s teachers were usually ultra-careful not to talk about each other in front of their learners. He was surprised Mrs Nombembe had said as much as she did, but it was probably because she liked and trusted him.

Anyway, the Eastern Cape was a very big place.

When the teacher had thanked him for carrying the files, Luyanda walked back to the area of Mr Mase’s classroom. He would sit somewhere and get on with some homework. He wasn’t going home until he’d seen Zinzi come safely out of that classroom.

But what was safely?

Anger gripped Luyanda. He felt helpless. Useless. He should break the door down. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t acceptable, for a teacher to lock himself and a learner into a classroom.

Yes, but what if he was wrong? About everything?

And in fact, he believed he had been wrong, when Zinzi walked out of Mr Mase’s classroom, because she was absolutely calm.

His relief lasted only a few seconds. Since when was Zinzi ever calm?

That wasn’t calm, it was more like … he wasn’t sure … a dullness of spirit, if that wasn’t too wild. Despair might be a better description. Or maybe she was in shock.

“Hey, Zin.” He strode over to her.

“Luyanda. What are you doing hanging around?”

No point kidding himself she was pleased to see him.

“I saw you going in for your maths lesson and thought I’d wait for you.” He shrugged and smiled. “Spent some of the time helping Mrs Nombembe carry stuff to the office.”

Zinzi still wasn’t meeting his eyes, but she did send a quick look up at his face. It reached maybe as high as his nose before she looked at the ground again.

“Why would you want to wait?” She sounded confused.

“Just wanted to.”

“Eish …” she breathed uncertainly, and it sounded as if she might be about to cry.

If there was one thing that truly scared Luyanda, it was the idea of a girl crying. Half the reason he liked Zinzi so much was because he had never been able to imagine her crying. Not in a million years.

That was why he decided not to say anything else now, afraid if he spoke it might make the tears spill over. They walked home without speaking until they reached the place where they parted to go their separate ways.

Then he said, “See you at soccer later?”

For a moment Zinzi’s expression was blank. Then she looked up at last, and he saw something blazing in her eyes.

“I guess.” Now her voice was hard, almost angry, no trace of tears left. “Yes, at soccer. I mean, that’s what it’s all about. What it’s all for.”

***

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