Mphoentle grabbed the phone from Suzie’s hand. ”Hello?” she asked.

“Mphoentle?”

The voice sounded faint and far away. “Yes, who is this and why do you have my phone?”

“Mphoentle you have to help me.”

Mphoentle was starting to get annoyed. ”Who is this?”

“It’s Violet, the one with the curly red hair.”

Mphoentle’s stomach started doing cartwheels. It couldn’t be Violet. That didn’t make sense at all.

“Who is it?” asked Suzi with eyes as big as two Rand coins.

“No one. It’s nothing,” replied Mphoentle. She hastily pressed down on the red disconnect button and stuffed the cellphone into her jeans pocket.

“It must have been someone.”

“It wasn’t okay?”

Mphoentle suddenly decided that she didn’t want to share a bus journey with Suzi. She waited until her best friend was safely on the bus and took a step back, letting the doors slide closed. Through the window she could see her best friend’s mouth open into a wide O of surprise, but it was too late for regrets. The bus was already churning away towards the main road.

When it was out of earshot, Mphoentle pried the phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. The last call had come from an”Unknown number”.

How bizarre, she thought.

It was probably a practical joke orchestrated by Suzi with some of the other girls at school. Yes, that had to be it. Suzi liked to bait her like that, play on her naivete. One time Suzi tried to bait her into shoplifting a chocolate bar from the corner shop. She almost did it too, until Suzi burst out laughing and pulled her out the shop.

Yes, it was probably Suzi. But a small part of her didn’t quite believe that.

Mphoentle set off on the long trek home. She passed the Catholic church with the sea green windows  and the curly black fence; she passed the Indian spice shop with a line of pigeons perched on it neon pink signboard. She stopped at the railway line and waited for the grey and white train to snake past.  All the while she thought of the voice on the other end of the line.

She knew that voice. She head heard many many times in her head when she played with her dolls and imagined them speaking to each other, to her.

A cold feeling was growing from her toes all the way up to the back of her neck. She remembered the day Violet was sold. She cried for hours, but there was nothing she or her mom could do.

She knew Violet’s voice. No one else could know it, not even Suzi. Violet was her favourite.

That meant only one thing though. Her doll had somehow managed to call her on her cellphone.

Violet was alive and she was out there somewhere. And she needed Mphoentle’s help.

WHAT DO YOU THINK: Things are getting a little straaaaange. Mphoentle’s hearing voices! What do you think is going on?