Zinzi hung back at the end of the maths lesson, waiting until everyone else had left the classroom. She pretended not to see the worried looks Babalwa and Danisile sent her.

“Sir?” She approached Mr Mase, who was busy straightening things on his desk.

He looked at her with his tongue sliding out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip.

“Zinzi, isn’t it? What is it?”

She felt the way you did when a cloud passed across the sun and things went cold and dark.

“Sir, sir said about extra lessons?” She had to force the words out, when all she wanted was to rush out of there, catch up with her friends and feel warm again.

“Ah. You’ve seen the sense of that.”

His soft, thick voice somehow blurred the words, and Zinzi hated the way his eyes wandered all over her, making her feel as if he was fingering her.

“Bawo? If sir could help me?” Her fingernails bit into her palms.

“Of course.” He smiled at her, and her skin got this horrible pulling-away feeling, like he was touching it. “Let me think. Tomorrow is Friday … Yes, come and see me after school then, and we can talk about how to get your marks up, just a little discussion, and then a few maths exercises.”

Zinzi couldn’t think of the right thing to say, so she just ducked her head and started to back away.

He was creepy, but she could handle him. Couldn’t she? Keep him distracted by asking masses of maths questions – that should work. It would be horrible, but worth it if the extra lessons meant she could go on living her dream. Soccer was her only chance to achieve something, to shine in her own right, and stop being just Ntombi’s little sister.

“Tomorrow, Zinzi,” Mr Mase reminded her.

“Yes, sir.”

She could think of a few hundred things she’d rather do on a Friday afternoon, but she knew she had to do it. You always heard of the sacrifices successful people made on the way to the top. This was one of them. Anyway, there was soccer practice tomorrow evening, so that would make up for things.

“Why are you late, Zinzi?” Mrs Nombembe asked as Zinzi rushed into her L.O. class.

“Sorry, Mrs Nombembe, ma’am.” Zinzi was breathless. “I had to … speak to Mr Mase. About extra maths lessons.”

Mrs Nombembe gave her a long look – probably trying to see if she was telling the truth, Zinzi thought.

“All right, but don’t be late again,” the teacher said finally. “Go and sit down, please.”

At the end of the lesson, Babalwa and Danisile came over to Zinzi.

“You’re really going to do it then?” Babalwa said. “Go to Mase for extra lessons?”

Zinzi screwed up her face. “I have to, if I want to keep playing soccer.”

“Rather you than me,” Danisile said.

“Well, it will never have to be you, you’re such a genius.” As she said it, Zinzi had an idea. “But what about you, Babalwa? You’ve been struggling with maths. Why don’t we go to extra maths together? We can tell Mase our parents want us to, so we can help each other afterwards … or something like that.”

She liked this idea. She wouldn’t have to be alone with Mr Mase, and she and Babalwa could share secret looks and giggles over how repulsive he was.

Wasn’t there some saying about safety in numbers?

But Babalwa was shaking her head.

“No thanks, chommie. You’re on your own. If I think I need help, I’ll ask Phati. I don’t know why you don’t just do the same and get Ntombi to help you.”

Privately, Zinzi didn’t think Babalwa’s older sister would be much help. As for Ntombi!

“Ntombi is too busy with college work and seeing Olwethu.” Zinzi had a go at what she thought of as rolling her eyes, but it felt funny, so she didn’t think she’d got it right.

Anyway, she didn’t think she could stand being taught by Miss Perfect.

“Are you still coming to my house this afternoon?” Babalwa asked as they headed for the steps where they always sat at break.

“Eish! That research task for Life Sciences. I forgot,” Zinzi confessed. “Yes, we should get started. I can do without another fail mark.”

They had to work in pairs, but Danisile had managed it so she was the odd one left without a partner because she preferred working on her own.

Spending the afternoon at Babalwa’s meant Zinzi was the last of her family to get home that evening.

As she came inside, she could hear her parents and Ntombi talking, hurriedly finishing their conversation in lowered voices.

More secrets, she thought in disgust. Or just something they thought she wasn’t old enough to hear?

She dumped her school bag on the floor and threw herself into a chair, lying sprawled there with her legs stuck way out in front of her and her feet apart.

“Zinzi!” Dad reacted at once. “You’re not a boy. What sort of lady sits like that? See how nicely your mother and Ntombi sit.

Her face went hot. “Sorry, Tata.”

She sat up straight and pulled her feet in together.

Dad ignored her apology, standing up and saying, “I’ve got a meeting. I won’t be late. You can keep my food warm for me.”

“How was school?” Mama asked Zinzi when he had gone.

“Fine.”

“I don’t think I believe in your fines any more, after you said that about your maths test,” Mama said. “Have you done something about that yet?”

“Yebo, Mama.” Zinzi jumped up, unable to sit still. “Mr Mase is going to give me extra lessons, starting after school tomorrow.”

Mama’s face relaxed into a smile.

“That’s excellent news, child. I was really worried.”

“Yebo, it’s great, Zinzi,” Ntombi added her approval. “I don’t know this teacher. Mr Mase?”

“Well, he only came to Harmony High last year,” Zinzi said. “From the Eastern Cape, I think. And anyway, he doesn’t teach matric.”

“He must be a really nice person, to give up his time for kids who need help,” Ntombi said.

Zinzi wanted to laugh. Nice wasn’t a word she’d use for Mase.

“Yes, Zinzi,” Mama was agreeing with Ntombi. “You must tell him we appreciate it, that we’re very grateful to him.”

“Maybe you should wait to see if my marks improve before you thank him,” Zinzi joked, because she couldn’t imagine herself passing on Mama’s message. “I’m hungry. What’s to eat?”

Mama started a little lecture about how their evening meal wouldn’t be long and it was wrong to eat between meals.

Zinzi switched off. She felt restless, frustrated. After school and the long afternoon spent working with Babalwa, she craved exercise. It was too late to go for a run; it was already growing dark.

She wondered if Luyanda had run today. Thinking about him, she felt something like regret tugging at her. She wished she hadn’t got so uptight with him yesterday. She had spoiled their friendship – if the thing between them was friendship, and what else could it be?

She would miss him.

***

Tell us: Do you think Zinzi is doing the right thin going to extra lessons with Mr Mase? Why/Why not?