I woke up nervous. It was the first day at my new school, Westwind High. I don’t know what I dreaded most: trying to make new friends, or trying out for the netball team. Netball is one of my passions and that’s what I was best known for at my old school – my ability to shoot and score every time.

Mama had different ideas about what is important. She told me to focus on my studies. That’s why I had changed schools – ‘to get the best education you can’ Mama had said.

“Chwayita, hurry up. You don’t want to be late on the first day,” she shouted from the kitchen.

“Coming!” I yelled as I adjusted my green tie. I hate green, but everybody said I would get used to it. Green and white were now my colours and I needed to wear them with pride. I pulled on my blazer and headed for the kitchen.

Mama handed me my lunchbox. “I put something special in.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t worry. You’ll have no problems making new friends. You had so many at your old school.”

She was right, I made friends easily; I was outgoing and social. But this was different. I knew no-one at Westwind High.

I took the MyCiTi to school and the nerves grew worse, the closer I got. Five minutes before the bell rang I ran into the assembly hall. It was full and buzzing, students giggling, as they shared the latest school gossip. This was what I was afraid of; it was difficult to break into such tight knit groups of girls, who had been together since Grade 8. I stood, awkward, as the girls stared and then pointed me out – whispering amongst themselves, but just loud enough for me to hear:

“Who’s the new girl?”

“Look at her hair.”

“Shame, do you think no-one told her yet?”

As the bell rang I found a seat amongst the Grade 11s. I stared at the stage, trying to ignore the looks I was getting. The Principal stepped up to the mike and tapped it. The noise subsided.

“Good morning Westwind.” I could hear by his tone he was a strict man and that the pupils feared him.

“Good morning Mr Graham,” we all chorused.

“I trust that you are all well and that you are ready to start the year. As you know, Mr Kent has retired and now Mrs Groenewald will be taking over his Grade 11 and 12 Maths classes.”

There was a murmur amongst the students. I couldn’t tell if they were pleased that Mr Kent had left or not. All eyes were on Mrs Groenewald as she stood up. I felt a chill run down my spine. There was nothing that distinctive about the way she looked, but somehow I knew by her expression that she would be cold and hard as steel. It was a good thing my maths was good. Don’t get on her bad side, I told myself. Stay out of trouble.

The Principal’s words reinforced what I was thinking: “Mrs Groenewald is not here to be your friend, so don’t think because she is new, you can play games with her. She is a strong believer in our school’s Code of Conduct, as am I.”

I felt the girls next to me shift in their seats as if they wanted to move further away from me. They were staring at my hair again. My fingers reached up instinctively to touch it. What was wrong?

***

Tell us: Why do you think the girls are staring at and commenting on Chwayita’s hair?