Zinzi was glad she had Babalwa, with all her talk about how awesome Sigidi was, to distract her for a while on Monday morning.

When it was time for maths, Zinzi kept her eyes down, walking into the classroom. Everyone else groaned when Mr Mase said they were going to write another test. Zinzi didn’t mean to look up, but somehow she raised her eyes, just for a moment. Mr Mase was smiling at her as if they shared a secret.

The test was more difficult than she’d expected, but she thought she might just have scraped a pass mark. She hated to admit it, but Friday’s lesson had helped her a bit, because now she understood what the questions were asking her to do.

At soccer that evening, she was on her best behaviour, and she noticed that Koliwe kept well away from her.

The training session both soothed and excited Zinzi. She was playing well, and she was sure things were going to be all right again – she was going to be all right – now that she had made up her mind not to go to any more private maths lessons.

Everything would be fine – except that Luyanda wasn’t talking to her. Even walking home later, he didn’t come near her.

That hurt her in a way she wasn’t expecting. She felt lonely, cut off from a special part of her life. When had he become so important to her?

At school in the morning, she waited for Mr Mase to give out the test results.

Let me at least have passed.

Because then she could give up extra maths and feel clean and safe again.

“Well done, Danisile.” Mr Mase had started with the top mark again. “And showing a wonderful improvement, Zinzi Gasa has the second-highest mark. She’s an example to you all. An excellent result.”

Zinzi couldn’t believe the high mark she had got. There had to be some mistake. She didn’t get this sort of mark even in the subjects she was good at. The most she had hoped for was to pass by one or two marks.

It wasn’t surprising that Babalwa was giving her such a suspicious look, as if she thought she’d cheated or something.

“Wena, Zinzi, turned into a genius overnight, did you?” Babalwa mocked.

Zinzi shrugged, thinking how pleased her family would be. “Maybe I just got lucky.”

She hung back at the end of the lesson, the way she had before. Mr Mase gave her one of his most repulsive smiles.

“Pleased with your test mark, my dear?”

“Yes. Thank you. Yes, sir.” Zinzi felt a bit faint, trying to gather her courage. “Bawo, I won’t be coming back to extra lessons. Sorry, sir.”

She grew even more uncomfortable as he simply stared at her for several seconds.

Then, in his soft voice, he said, “Are you sure of that, Zinzi?”

“Yes, sir.” She heard how breathless she sounded, and there was this panicky, fluttering feeling in her chest.

“I don’t think you’ve thought it through properly, dear.” He paused to wet his lower lip. “Yes, you did well in the test, but if you stop coming for special lessons, your marks will go right back down. You will even start failing again. I guarantee it.”

He could just be warning her that she needed more than only one extra lesson, but to her ears it sounded like he was threatening her.

“I … I have to go,” she muttered, frantic to get away from him, and heading for the door.

“Think very carefully about this, Zinzi, and don’t be foolish,” Mr Mase said. “We agreed to Wednesday for your next lesson, didn’t we? That’s tomorrow. We can do something really special together, you and me. Get you the best marks every time, better than Danisile’s even.”

If she hadn’t been so frightened, she would have laughed at that last thing he said. Better than Danisile? What a joke.

As it was, she could only rush out of the classroom. She nearly crashed into three people walking past together. Two matrics and a Grade 11. Luyanda and Esabo with Thobela walking between them.

“Zinzi!” Luyanda said in surprise, but then he seemed to remember he wasn’t talking to her, because he turned his head towards Thobela and Esabo, giving them one of his frowny smiles and carrying on with whatever he had been saying to them.

Zinzi knew Esabo was crazy about Thobela. Now she wondered if Luyanda also thought she was hot.

Just wondering gave her a strange, heavy feeling.

“Hayi wena, Zinzi, what did you do to get such a high mark?” Babalwa wanted to know when Zinzi caught up with her and Danisile.

“What do you mean?” Zinzi demanded, but the trouble was that she knew exactly what Babalwa meant. “It wasn’t an STM if that’s what you’re thinking. The guy is plain revolting. I’d never let him near me.”

“But listen, Zin?” Danisile was always more serious than Babalwa. “Like you say, he’s revolting. And scary. What if he expects some sort of … favour, in return for your high mark?”

Zinzi looked at them. “So you don’t believe I can get such a good mark on my own?”

She didn’t believe it either, as maths just wasn’t her thing, so why was she asking them as if she thought they were insulting her?

“Hey, what do I know?” Babalwa waved a hand, like she wanted to get out of having to answer properly.

Danisile took a deep breath. “It’s just … just such a dramatic improvement, you know? Mostly a person’s marks creep up slowly.”

Zinzi pulled a face. “Maybe he was feeling generous. Anyway, whatever, he’s not getting any thanks from me. Not of the sort you mean.”

But she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr Mase had said, and how it had sounded like a threat. If he started failing her because she refused to attend extra lessons, it would be the end of everything – the end of soccer, for a start.

She needed to think, and decide what was the best thing to do. She should remember that nothing had actually happened at that first lesson.

Yes, but what about that bad feeling she’d had?

At home that night, they were busy eating when Mama asked, “Did you hear how you did in the maths test, Zinzi?”

“Mama, I passed,” Zinzi said, and told them her mark.

“What?” Ntombi demanded. “So high? I don’t believe it … Eish, sorry, Zinzi, I didn’t mean it like that –”

Zinzi had already jumped up and rushed to find her school bag in the bedroom. She came back with her test paper and was about to hand it to Ntombi to show her how wrong she was, but Dad took it out of her hand.

He had been looking tired and sad, or maybe worried, but now a smile lit up his face.

“I’m proud of you, my girl.” He passed the paper to Mama. “Zinzi, if you can get marks like this all the time … I tell you, you can do anything, be anything. The world will belong to you.”

“Yes, you have to keep it up, child,” Mama joined in.

Zinzi looked at Ntombi to see what her reaction would be. Ntombi smiled at her.

“How did my little sister get to be so clever?” she joked.

They were all so proud of her, and for once she was the centre of attention. Zinzi loved the feeling.

So all right, maybe she should give the extra lessons another try, and if the bad feeling she had about Mase turned out to be right, well, she was a quick, strong, young person and he was a wheezy man probably in his fifties. She could get away from him easily.

***

Tell us: Is it a common thing that people who are abused blame themselves in some way. Why is this such a harmful thing?