We had Maths for fifth period, just before break, and Mrs Groenewald was … well, herself. I didn’t care; she wasn’t going to make me feel small today. I had my confidence back and Letitia and her crew could sense it; they stayed clear of me. I felt like I was myself again; in control and happy.

Mrs Groenewald started with the register as usual. When she called for ‘Hazel’ I didn’t respond.

“Hazel? Are you here or not?” she shouted and the whole class turned to look at me. I didn’t respond. Then her eyes rose from the register to find me. Oh Lord. “Hazel, if you’re not responding then I’ll have to mark you absent.”

“But my name’s not Hazel, ma’am. My name is Chwayita,” I said confidently.

There was a dense hum in the room and I knew I had gone too far. My heart was pounding and my armpits started itching. I was going to be punished.

“What? Are you talking back to me girly?” she shouted. “I know girls like you! You think you know everything. Well I’ll show you: you know nothing. You are nothing. This school does not tolerate this kind of behaviour. Next thing we know you’ll be toyi-toying and causing havoc. We won’t have that. You hear me? If you want chaos then you should’ve stayed in that township school of yours.”

She was red in the face. She had lost it. I had never seen a teacher this angry. I had gone too far. And she wasn’t about to stop. She looked like she wanted to hit me.

“Your kind needs to be taught a lesson. Get out of my class now! Clearly you are not here to learn. When the bell rings I want to find you in the Principal’s office. I’ve had it with you.”

I looked over at Letitia’s crew. They looked so smug with their ‘I told you so’ grins on their faces. But then my eye caught that of Nomthandazo, aka ‘Beatrice’. A small smile was playing in the corners of her lips. I couldn’t quite be sure, but I think she approved of me standing up to the teacher and Letitia. A little part of me felt a small victory. But that victory had just got me in trouble. I couldn’t be known as a trouble maker. I needed to stay at this school and prove myself. I needed to excel.

I stood up and walked outside. Mrs Groenewald slammed the door after me.

At break I waited outside the Principal’s office. Mrs Groenewald walked straight past into the office and closed the door behind her. She didn’t even look at me. I knew I was done for. Ten minutes later the door opened and the Principal called me in.

“Miss Mali,” he started, without even offering me a seat. I stood next to Mrs Groenewald. “Mrs Groenewald tells me you were disruptive in class today. Is this true?” he asked, looking at me over his glasses. I didn’t know what to say.

“No, Sir,” the words left my mouth before I could even stop them. “I was–”

“Are you calling me a liar, girly?” Mrs Groenewald piped up, glaring at me. “The disrespect.” She spat the words out. Then she turned to the Principal. “Do you see what I mean? These people…”

“Calm down Mrs Groenewald. She will be dealt with accordingly,” the Principal said. “Leave it with me. An example will be made. This is not how girls at Westwind conduct themselves.”

He opened a book on his desk, signed a slip and handed it to me.

First warning – detention.

Then he dismissed me with a swat of his hand, as though he were waving off a fly. I walked out without another word.

I needed to tell someone what had happened and the only person I could tell was Jasmin. I went to search for her in the quad. I was furious. It wasn’t fair! They didn’t even hear my side of the story. I shoved the detention slip in my blazer pocket. How was I going to tell my parents about this? I hadn’t even been at the school a week and I had upset a teacher, been called to the Principal’s office, and got a detention slip.

***

Tell us: What do you think Chwayita should do?