Dumi walked slowly along the road. His school bag hung heavily off his shoulder, filled with homework. Normally he liked getting home, shutting himself in his bedroom getting down to his homework, until his mom called him to supper.

Homework. At least that was something he could do well. Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Technology. Even languages: isiXhosa, English and Afrikaans. Dumi Totobela was a brainbox. So what if the kids at school called him a geek, a nerd, a dweeb? That’s what had got him his scholarship – his geekiness, his nerdiness, his dweebiness.

His parents had been so proud of him. “Education is important,” his dad said. “You’ll have chances I never had, my child.” But there were some days when Dumi wished he’d never got into this school. From the day he’d arrived here he’d felt as if he would never fit in. His school uniform was way too big for him. “Room for growth,” his mom had said, but growing wasn’t going to happen any time soon. So he’d shuffled through Grade 8 in trousers that were too long for him and blazer sleeves that touched the tips of his fingers.

That was four years ago and he’d finally grown into the blazer, but only just. But no matter what he wore, he’d still be instantly labelled geek, nerd, dweeb. ‘Loser’ with a capital ‘L’. That’s what came of being stupid enough to put your hand up in class, show you had a brain. Especially after someone like Luke Owens had failed to answer a question.

Sure, there were other bright kids in the class who sat near the front and joined in – Alexa Conradie was one of them – but somehow they escaped the endless bullying that had been directed at Dumi ever since he’d arrived at the school. Luke Owens, Ntando Kulati, Alan Vermaak and Peter Woods. All hulking brutes. All members of the first team rugby. All good looking and loud and confident and positive that their dumbass comments were the stuff that stand-up comics were made of. And all gunning for Dumi.

So who could blame him for wanting to impress Alexa? Have her smile at him, and him alone? She was one of the few students who’d welcomed him when he arrived at the school, but these days Dumi wished she saw him as more than someone to be kind to. And to be honest, he hadn’t minded Luke and his band of super jocks seeing him as a person, rather than just a weakling to shove out of the way and trip up and generally persecute in every way their pea-sized brains could think of.

None of that was an excuse for what he had done though. And to Miss Majola, of all people. She was one of the best teachers in the school, and one of the nicest. She taught English and she was always encouraging her students to think, really think, about how they saw things, what shaped their ideas. “That’s what literature is all about,” she liked to say. “To show us the world differently. Some words create beauty, others do the opposite.”

Well Dumi certainly hadn’t created beauty today. He’d wanted to be cool and instead he’d been unkind. And now, when Miss Majola looked at him, she wouldn’t see Dumi the A+ student. She’d see someone who was no better than any of the jerk-off jocks in his class.

When Dumi got home, he shrugged off his school bag and took off his blazer and hung it carefully on the hook in the hallway. He didn’t head straight for his bedroom as usual. Instead he wandered through to the kitchen. Everything was laid out and ready to go. Potatoes to peel, onions and carrots to slice, meat defrosting. His mom was super-organised; she didn’t have much time between her shift work as a nursing sister and running the home. Whenever he asked if he could help she’d send him packing to his room.

“Yes, Dumi, you can help me by getting straight As and keeping your scholarship.” She’d say it with a laugh, but Dumi knew the message was a serious one.

After today though, would he even have a scholarship?

Dumi rolled up his sleeves and picked up a potato. He peeled it quickly and expertly, placed it in a bowl of water and picked up the next one. Mindless work. Just what he needed to keep him from thinking about how dumb he’d been. By now all the kids at school would know what he had done. These things had a habit of spreading like wildfire. And if they knew, soon enough the Principal would get to hear about it, and Miss Majola herself. Dumi groaned out loud. How soon before the walls came crashing down?

“My word, Dumi,” his mom’s voice interrupted his troubled thoughts. “Potatoes all peeled, veggies prepared. What have I done to deserve such a good son?”

Then she saw his face.

“What is it, my boy? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing Mom. I’m fine.”

Dumi’s phone beeped impatiently from his pocket and he took it out. Alexa’s name flashed up at him.

“Dumi, what have I told you about answering your cellphone when I am speak–”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Dumi cut across her, “but I have to look at this. It’s really important.”

“Dumi–”

But Dumi wasn’t listening. He stared at his phone and then he raced to his bedroom to log on to Facebook.

1789 likes. 245 comments. And it had been put up on his page. Not Luke’s or any of the others’. They weren’t that dumb. And 255 shares … As he watched, seventeen more people ‘liked’ his status.

In a panic Dumi clicked the tab next to his name. “Delete…” he muttered under his breath. “Come on, come on, come on …” Not for the first time he wished they could afford a faster internet connection. It took forever for the little box next to his name to pop open. All the options, and then, right near the bottom: ‘delete’. Dumi clicked and watched the status vanish from his timeline. If only he’d seen this earlier, before Alexa’s frantic message:

Dumi – have u seen ur Facebook page?

OMG what r u going to do?

He stared bleakly at the screen, the 255 shares. Really? No way could he control this now. Things couldn’t get worse.

“Dumi?”

He looked up. His father was standing at his door. “Son, the Principal wants to see all of us in his office tomorrow. You, me, your mother. Care to tell me what’s going on?”

Dumi buried his head in his hands. Something told him this was only the beginning. Things could get worse. Way, way worse. And it was all his fault.

***

Tell us what you think: What did Dumi see on his Facebook page?