It’s half-term now and the Belly Protest, as it is officially known, has been postponed to next week when school starts again. We thought about maybe going around the shopping centres in our bellies over the long weekend, but let’s face it, how often do you run into teachers out-side of school? Not all that often, right? So it would be a waste of time.

In the meantime, Lael and I are making progress with the other pregnant girl in our lives – Amelia Lucite.

I asked my dad if he could get us permission to use the archives room at the Gauteng Tribune (formerly the Johannesburg Tribune), and he organised it in a flash. A lady called Xolela emailed me back and said we could come any time.

We planned to go on Friday, the first day of half-term, but it didn’t work out. I woke up at noon and messaged Lael, but she was still asleep. Then we spent the afternoon alternating between watching Netflix and napping some more. That’s basically what the start of every school holiday is like – we collapse in a heap to recover from all the homework the teachers give us and the pressure our parents put on us.

Anyway, by Saturday we’re feeling much better. I wake up at 11am, which is basically dawn in school-holiday time. After lunch, I ask Lungile to swing past Sisulu House to pick up Lael, and then he drops us both at the office of the Gauteng Tribune.

It is right next to Jozi Talks radio, which is my favourite radio station of all time. We listen to it in the car every morning on the way to school. I’m a huge fan. Unfortu-nately, my dad doesn’t own them too, because I would love to work there one day.

As Lungi drops us off at the entrance to the Tribune and drives off, we give each other a nervous look.
“You’re sure your dad set this all up?” “Of course!”

“They are definitely expecting us? It wasn’t just some vague, ‘call and make an appointment sometime’ thing?”

“Give me some credit. It was an open invitation. Come any time. Bring your friend. It’s all good.”

Lael takes a deep breath. “Okay, then.”

We walk inside and go up to the reception desk. For a horrible moment, it seems as if the receptionist has absolutely no idea what we are talking about. Then she asks us for the name of our contact person, and of course my mind goes completely blank.

“Uh…” I stare at her like a twit.

“Didn’t you say it was Xolela?” Lael reminds me. “Yes!” I say in relief. “Her name is Xolela.”

“We have three Xolelas working here,” the receptionist informs me. “Which one do you want?”

Three? Good grief.

“Just a moment, please.” I take out my phone and scroll through my emails, hoping it hasn’t been deleted. “Xolela Parrish!” I announce. “That’s her name. It says here she’s a staff writer.”

“She’s not in today.” The receptionist sounds impa-tient by now. “She works every second Saturday. Can I have your name, please?”

“Trinity Luhabe.”

There is a long pause as she sits there with her finger frozen over her touch screen. “Luhabe?” she repeats slowly. “Any relation of…?” “Um, yes. He’s my dad.”

The attitude change is instant and complete. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Ms Luhabe. My apologies. I had no idea. If you wait one more second, I’ll get your lanyards ready and somebody will be down here to show you the way to the archive room.”

In two minutes flat, we are in a lift going down to the basement.

Lael grins at me. “Listen, I know you hate it, but you have to admit it’s very convenient to be able to flash your dad’s name around like that and get five-star service.”

“I didn’t flash my dad’s name around!” I say. “She asked me my name and I told her. And then she asked me if I was related to him and I told the truth. I would never…”

Lael touches my arm. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you never flash your family’s name around. But, come on. You must admit it’s useful.”

“I wish we lived in a world where people treated you decently before they knew your surname,” I grumble. “But I guess this is all in a good cause. We’re going to find out what happened to poor Amelia, and hopefully also what happened to Jim. And then we can, you know, release him from his earthly torment.”

This earns me a slight side-eye from our guide. I smile and explain nothing.

Lael and I came up with a theory last term that Jim was stuck in the human world because his death has never been solved. We reckon if we can find out what happened to him, he will be free to ‘move on’.

Our guide is one of the junior reporters on the Trib-une. He takes us down to the archive room and shows us how to do a search by theme, date, person or place. The Tribune’s records are much better organised than the ones in the school library. He tells us we can come and call him if we need more help, and then he leaves us to it.

I sit down at the computer. “What should we search for?”

“Search for Amelia’s brother’s name. What was it again?”
“Jack. Jack Lucite.”

“That’s right. If he was suspected of murder, he must be in there somewhere.”

I enter his name into the search box and get an instant hit. “There are two articles tagged with that name. They both have the same file number.”

“Okay, great. If you write it on a piece of paper, I’ll go and look for it.”

There are pencils and scraps of paper everywhere. I hand the reference to Lael and she disappears among the dusty stacks.

A creepy silence settles over the room as the sound of Lael’s footsteps fades away. A beam of sunlight from the window hits the floor at a slight angle, highlighting a thin layer of dust. Little floating particles in the air turn golden and sparkly as they twist and dance in the sun.

I almost fall asleep watching them. Then I jerk awake and grab my phone to check the time. That’s when I real-ise that Lael has been gone for a long time. A weirdly long time.

“Hey, are you still alive in there?” I call.

There’s no answer.

“Lael! Where did you go?”

Silence.

I think about sending her a WhatsApp, but then I see she left her phone on the desk next to me. So now what? What if she’s gone forever? What if the archive monster got her?

I walk in the same direction she did, but stop when the high stacks on either side of me start shutting out the light. What if the monster gets me too?

I hurry back to the desk, where at least I’m within sight of an open door.

“Lael?” I yell. “Stop fooling around. If you don’t come out now, I’m going home without you. They’ll find your body in the morning, I’m warning you. And you’re wear-ing your oldest jeans!”

Still nothing.

I open my mouth to shout again. Then I nearly have a heart attack when a hand lands on my shoulder. A scream rips from my throat before I can stop it.

It’s Lael. Of course it is.

She’s laughing so hard she is nearly bent double.
“You are so mean!”

“You are so gullible. Lael!” she imitates in a high, squeaky voice. “Lael, where have you gone? Answer me, Lael!” I try to stop it, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. “What took you so long anyway? Did you get it?”

She puts a file on the desk. “Yes, I got it. It just took me forever to figure out their filing system.”

“Great! Let’s have a look.” I take the file from her and remove the two strips of microfiche film from inside.

“Okay, this is the one we’ve already seen about how they are looking for the brother in connection with Jim Grey’s death. Now let’s check the other one.”

***