I’m not Zakhele, Felleng isn’t Jarvis. All the same, I go after Felleng and have a swing at him. I think it’s the anger and fear for Celi that give me the strength.
As I’m hitting him, my ears fill with noise. It’s Celi screaming, but then she stops and a second later there’s this other high, piercing sound splitting the air.
Celi has something between her lips – a whistle, I realise. At the same time as she’s blowing into it, she’s grabbing something from her bag, raising it and–
A howl from Felleng. He lets Celi go and falls to his knees with his hands clapped over his face.
“My eyes, my eyes!” His howling turns into words. “The bitch has blinded me.”
“Pepper spray,” Celi says, putting it away.
I stare in admiration. “Cool. Props to you. And the whistle! Protecting yourself.”
“Being prepared. I never want to be a victim,” she says just as the tutors, Erasmus and Xabisa, come hurrying back.
“What’s going on? Was that you screaming, Celi?” Xabisa demands.
She’s looking at me and Felleng with suspicion. I suppose I can’t blame her, but it burns me a little, being lumped with Felleng.
Celi tells her what happened, finishing up by saying, “Aviwe tried to defend me.”
“Only, Celi defended herself much better,” I say, still full of admiration and pride.
“We need to report this to Chef Baloyi, as it happened on school premises,” Erasmus says.
Chef Baloyi expels Felleng from the school. Jarvis leaves soon afterwards, probably because he’s scared of us without Felleng around.
Zakhele returns, and there’s a friendly vibe at the school again. I’m not saying we’ve made much progress becoming better men, but the girls are always ready to give us tips about such things as not getting in a girl’s space, and keeping our body language unthreatening.
Sometimes I’ll be walking in the street when it’s quiet, and I’ll see a woman up ahead, looking back, walking more quickly. Then I’ll turn off into another street, or turn round altogether, so she knows I’m not following her.
As for Celi, she lets me into her space, in her own good time. We talk a lot about combining her cake-decorating talent and my pastry chef skills, and setting up our own business.
“Dreams, really, I guess,” I say, as we clear up after another prac in the kitchen. “But if we work hard?”
“Then dreams might become reality,” Celi says, putting a hand on my shoulder and standing on tiptoe to kiss me. “You’re a good man, Aviwe.”
“Getting there, I hope. But just a slightly better man for now.”
She laughs. “Good enough for me.”
THE END (See next chapter for Talking Points.)
***
Tell us: Aviwe was never like Felleng, but in what ways do you think he has changed?