Lelethu lay in bed next to her cousin. She wished she was far, far away. Outside her aunt’s house there were unfamiliar sounds: taxis hooting, people shouting and music pumping from the shebeen at the end of the road. They weren’t the sounds of the rural village she had come from: the wind in the trees outside the hut, the chickens scratching in the yard and her uncle snoring. No, she was in the big city, like she had wanted to be. And she hated it.

The first day at her cousin’s school had been a nightmare. Her cousin hadn’t introduced her to anybody. In fact, she had turned her back on Lelethu to talk to her friends. They had whispered and giggled and Lelethu had been sure they were gossiping about her.

In class she hadn’t understood a thing. When the teacher had asked her what she thought of a character in a book they were reading she had stared blankly at him, like some village idiot. The teacher in her old school had never asked students their opinion. He had just made them copy notes off the board.

The next lesson was even worse. The teacher had made her stand up and tell everybody about herself. The whole class had laughed at how bad her English was and she had wanted to disappear. Why had she ever asked to come to the city? Why had she begged her mother to send her?

*****

“Wake up, Lelethu!” She felt someone’s sharp fingernails poking her shoulder. “Wake up, you lazy girl! Your mother promised us you would work hard in the house. Get up and help me make porridge.” Lele-thu’s aunt was leaning over her, shouting in her ear.

Lelethu sat up, bumping her cousin who groaned and rolled over. “Be careful, you clumsy girl. Don’t wake up Bontle. She needs her beauty sleep,” hissed her aunt.

In the kitchen Lelethu stirred the porridge on the stove. Her eyes were burning with tiredness; she had hardly slept. “You’re going to spill,” her aunt warned, watching her every move.

Lelethu felt a surge of anger. She hadn’t come to Cape Town to be her aunt’s servant! “And don’t you look at me like that, girl, unless you really want trouble,” her aunt went on.

Lelethu looked away. She wouldn’t say anything now. But soon … soon she would show her aunt and her cousin that she couldn’t be pushed around. She would show them, she thought, as she banged the pot down on the stove as loudly as she could.

“I’m hungry,” Bontle said, coming up behind Lelethu and looking to see if the porridge was ready.

“Lelethu will serve you, my baby, sit down,” her mother said. Lelethu turned to look at the two of them, waiting to be served. She wouldn’t do it.

“I am not your servant,” she said, “I will not serve my own cousin.”

The slap came before she knew it. Her aunt’s hand stung the skin on her arm.

“You do not talk to me like that. Do you hear me?” She looked like she was going to slap Lelethu again. “I knew this was a bad idea, letting you come and stay in our house. Is your mother paying me for your keep? No. She said you would be helpful to me. I’m going to tell her what an ungrateful, cheeky girl you are.”

Lelethu couldn’t believe her aunt was like this. Whenever she had visited before she had been friendly and kind. But that was when Lelethu’s mother had been there too. It was hard to believe it was the same person. Still, Lelethu wasn’t ready to be sent home. “I am sorry, Auntie,” she said softly, thinking of her mother, whose blood pressure was high enough already. If she heard bad stories about Lelethu it would make things so much worse for her. Lelethu was her shining hope, especially now that her daughter was getting a good education in a better school. That is why she had agreed for her to come to the city. But here was Lelethu, feeling sore and angry and lonely. How was she ever going to carry on?

She spooned out porridge into the bowls, and saw her aunt checking that she had not taken too much for herself. Bontle muttered a word of thanks without looking at her. They sat down together at the table and her aunt said grace. Lelethu felt bitterness in her heart. What would God think of her aunt’s behaviour, she wondered, as they ate in silence.

When they had finished Lelethu and Bontle quickly got ready for school. Bontle had had her own room before Lelethu arrived. And she had made it clear to Lelethu that she was not happy that she now had to share it with her cousin.

Lelethu did feel bad. If she had her own room she would not want to share it either. But that was just a dream – it would never happen. Back at home she shared a room with her mother and two cousins. Until she came to her aunt’s house she couldn’t imagine living in a place with a bathroom inside the house with taps for hot and cold water. At home if they wanted water they had to fetch it. It was a long walk to the river and it was freezing in the winter. If you had told her then that she would be able to walk into a bathroom and turn on a hot tap she would have sung for joy. But this morning she would do anything to be able to go back to her village, to talk and laugh with her friends as they walked across the fields to fetch water. It was so much nicer than being here with this strange silence between her and Bontle.

She waited to use the bathroom. Once inside she looked in the mirror. She had always thought of herself as pretty, with her heart-shaped face, full lips and slender body. But this mirror seemed to be mocking her, looking for Bontle’s soft cheeks and curves.

On their way to school Bontle walked ahead of Lelethu. She spotted a group of friends outside the spaza shop and ran to greet them. Lelethu had only just caught up when they walked off without even looking back to see if she was coming with them. Lelethu was not surprised. That was exactly what had happened the day before. Bontle was a year older than her, and had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with her – in or out of school.

She walked behind the giggling schoolgirls, kicking a stone along the pavement. All the girls had nice cell phones, and one of them was showing Bontle a picture of some guy she liked. Their laughter made Lele-thu feel even lonelier.

She thought of her friend, Pholisa, back at home. They had been friends from when they were tiny and knew each other inside out. When they were smaller they had formed a special gang, with a sign they gave each other: a closed fist with just the small pinkie finger standing straight. It meant you belonged to each other. The gang was over now. But Pholisa and Lelethu still made the sign to each other. It was their sign of friendship.

Lelethu made it now, looking at her pinkie. Where was Pholisa at this moment? She had been angry when Lelethu had decided to come to Cape Town – they had even fought about it. But then they had cried and laughed together, and promised to stay friends forever. Pholisa had told her Cape Town was horrible and Lelethu hadn’t believed her. But maybe she was right.

There were so many people walking up and down the road. They were busy. They had places to go and people to meet – all except her. A man leered at her as she turned the corner. “Why do you look so sad, girlie? Come over here. I’ll show you a good time.”

The anger and loneliness in Lelethu exploded in her. She spat on the ground in front of him and ran off, hearing his angry shouts behind her.