Lael and I are trying to hold it together but it isn’t easy. And we’re not having nearly as tough a time as Nosipho. Themba won’t return her messages, so she hasn’t been able to talk to him since she found out she was pregnant. She seems to be feeling worse with every day. She is nauseous in the mornings, and dead tired the rest of the time. The three of us are trying to keep up with our class work, but it’s a bit of a nightmare. Lael and Nosipho get A’s most of the time, so they can afford a slight dip in their marks.

I’m more of a straight-C student, so I really can’t lose focus here. We use the rest of the weekend after the pregnancy tests for homework. It’s Tuesday evening before I manage to get into the Grade Ten dormitory again. I spend the evening doing prep with the boarders and then dash upstairs, hoping to have a chat with Lael and Nosipho before everyone else starts getting ready for bed. For the last two days, breaks have been taken up with meetings for extramurals, so we’ve hardly talked, except on WhatsApp.

I bound up the stairs two at a time, hoping to find the dormitory empty. No such luck.

“Sophie!”

She turns quickly, shoving something behind her back. I find myself staring into the innocent blue of her china- doll eyes and know at once she is up to something. As though that YouTube prank wasn’t bad enough, she’s coming after us again. I should explain. Sophie Agincourt is my nemesis. She is my Lex Luthor, my Dr Doom, and my Regina George. We were friends until we were about eleven, when we both entered the Miss Sandton pageant for little girls. My mom was com- pletely horrified that I’d put my name down and basically wanted to ban me from entering, but my dad talked her out of it because he thought it was cute and harmless. So she put me in a plain white dress, brushed my hair back, and banned me from putting on any makeup. Sophie, on the other hand, spent weeks having mani- pedis, facials, haircuts, and a dress specially made for her. She was wearing so much makeup, it looked as though her face would fall off if she leaned forward. So of course I won because the judges liked my “natural” look – thanks, Mom! – and Sophie was my princess. She has never, ever forgiven me for that, and has been my mortal enemy ever since. ..

And by mortal enemy I mean that officially we are still friends, but she tries to ruin my life behind my back. I am constantly surprised that scary music doesn’t start playing when she walks into a room.

“What are you doing here?” I take a casual step to the right to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

She turns slightly to block me. “Just visiting the old home-away-from-home. I miss it sometimes, don’t you?” Classic diversionary tactics. But I should probably ex-plain again.

Last term when my mom and dad moved to Chile for three months to set up Ubuntu Gold’s latest mine, and my brothers and I were boarding – I told you that part already – Sophie immediately started boarding as well because she absolutely has to copy every single thing I do. Also, she likes to keep an eye on me so that she never misses an opportunity to launch an attack.

Do I sound dramatic? I probably sound dramatic. But what would you say if I told you she set me up with a guy she knew had a history of abusive relationships? Nice, right? Very supportive and friendly. So, when I say I don’t trust Sophie Agincourt, I have very good reasons.

“I can’t say I miss it exactly,” I say. “I like sleeping in my own bed and eating normal food.”

“That reminds me…” She tosses back her pale golden hair and widens her baby-blue eyes at me.

“How’s that diet? The one you and Lael were on? ‘A Brand New You’, wasn’t it called?”

See what I mean? Who does that? Who brings up some stupid diet that somebody used to be on?

I give her my best Zen / Namaste / Dalai Lama smile. “I realised I didn’t need it after all, so I stopped.”

She makes a funny noise in her throat that translates as, “Yeah, right!”

Then she smooths her skirt complacently over her hips. The thing about Sophie is that she looks exactly like a doll – one of those perfect china dolls that little white girls used to play with. So not only does she look like the Bride of Chucky, but she has the personality to match. I think it was the doll thing that made it so impossible for her to accept that I had won the Miss Sand- ton competition and not her. How often does the black sidekick get to be the star of the show rather than Malibu Barbie? Exactly! Never.

A few years ago, I would have asked her to explain that funny noise she just made, but these days I know better. “Is it just nostalgia that’s got you creeping around up here while everyone’s out?”

She smiles the smile of one who cannot be shamed. “Not exactly. I was poking around looking for evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“Yes, evidence. You see, I saw a very interesting You- Tube video the other day. It was of you buying a handful of pregnancy tests at some random pharmacy. I came here to see if I could find out what was going on.”

I fold my arms across my chest and lean against Yasmin’s cupboard, grinning. “Oh, really? And what did you find, Sherlock?”

And then, I swear to you, she pulls her hand out from behind her back and holds up the three pregnancy tests – the exact three that Nosipho used last weekend. I am so completely gobsmacked, I am this close to yelling, “Witchcraft!” and running out of the room.

“How did you…?” My voice cracks and I have to start again.

“Where did you…?”

“Get these? Oh, it was easy. They were lying right here in the bin, buried under a mound of toilet paper. It was almost as though someone were trying to hide them.”

“But … but … the bins get cleared every day.”

“I know! Weird, right? Someone has obviously got a bad case of pregnancy brain and forgot to throw them away earlier. I mean, look at this – three positive preg- nancy tests.”

My mind is boggling and I’m about to say something even more indiscreet when Lael and Nosipho come into the dormitory.

***