It’s 7:15 pm and I get a text from weird pretty girl from next door.

I should change this contact name before Amanda sees it.

Couldn’t choose so I got both CL and Nandz. En route, see you just now!

Since when is Nandos Nandz? Anyway, should I just say OK? Will that not come off as offish? Should I thank her?

OK, thanks! I press send.

15 minutes later, she arrives with the food, bottles of Coke and juice, and some fruit.

“I didn’t know if you drink Coke or not so I bought the juice as well,” she says.

“I don’t drink either, the high contents of sugar in them qualifies them as drugs. That’s why they become addictive,” I offer my opinion.

She just stares at me and makes a ‘what are you going on about’ face.

“What I am trying to say is, thank you, let me clear up my desk, we can’t sit on these chairs,” I say, walking towards my desk.

She follows me, I assume to help. She spots the paper I drew Palesa’s half-a-face on, picks it up, and looks at me with questions in her eyes and a very sneaky smile.

“Noooo, not at all what you’re thinking.” I volunteer an answer to her un-verbalised question.

“What am I thinking?” she quips.

“Since when did we become friends? Palesa thinks I am a liar ‘cause I told her you’re someone I know but when you came you said we were friends, and referred to me as ‘chommie’.” I look at her, waiting for an answer.

“You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you? Well, you’re always alone, I’ve never seen anyone come to visit, so I thought I should become your friend,” she says.

“You think I am lonely, huh? I’m not, I’m just not a fan of groups and I really don’t do well in social circles,” I respond.

“You don’t seem to be doing all that badly if you scored a date for the night,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t score anything. If you must know, this guy was chatting up Palesa and I sort of interrupted but to her relief as she needed an escape. She came with a friend, but the friend got occupied with some boy’s body so she was basically as alone as I was. We chilled together until they forced us to drink shots, so I decided I wanted to leave before anything bad happened, like drink spiking or whatever. I don’t really trust those people, you know. But her phone was dead so she couldn’t Uber and I couldn’t afford to help her on that part, the only thing I could do was help her with a roof over her head for the night after you didn’t respond when we knocked at yours. That’s all,” I explain.

“Mhhh. Alright then,” she says, sounding suspicious.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I ask.

“I do. So you went there for food?” she says, sounding concerned.

“I didn’t mean to say all of that in the message. It’s a prime example of how awkward I am with people. But yes, I am running out, I need to be frugal until Friday when I get my allowance,” I explain.

“You could’ve asked me, you know. When I came here earlier, when I was going out,” she says.

“I wanted to but didn’t know how, I didn’t know we were friends until this morning so it was weird for me to ask,” I say.

“But I guess you wouldn’t have picked up Palesa if you hadn’t gone so I guess there was a reason you went,” she says, teasing me.

“No, stop,” I say.

She laughs. “Look, I get it but don’t starve when I am around. I am not saying I am swimming in money, don’t let these clothes and wigs fool you, I don’t come from money. My mother is a single parent, and I have two brothers, both in high school. So, no money falling from any tree at my house. Hell, I am studying on a loan. But I hustle ‘cause no one should look like their problems, right!” she says.

“Mine too, my mom is a single mom and I have two siblings, but a lot younger than me, early teens, so I let her be and focus on them. I am on a scholarship here. My high-school teacher is paying for rent. So, I depend on Mom for food and school things. I’ve actually been thinking of taking a part-time job just to lessen the pressure on Mom, and ease my frustrations too,” I say. “Thanks for saying all of that, about being here for me. Come to think of it, you always come to say hi and always tell me where you’re going, to a point where I was wondering why you were doing all that,” I say, sounding teary.

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s OK. OK, you’re crying now I’ll cry too,” she says, as she starts to tear up.

She comes to me for a hug and we cry in silence for 10 minutes.

“I wrote your name as weird pretty girl from next door on my contacts,” I volunteer the information. I break apart from her and show her my phone.

She laughs and hits me lightly on the shoulder.

“At least you think I’m pretty, I guess, but I am not weird.”

“You are very weird but let me change it to your name. What’s your surname?” I ask.

“Vimba. Are you going to use my full name? That’s so cold, dude!” she says.

I shrug. “It’s your name, right?” I say.

Amanda Vimba. Contact saved!

“Did you save Palesa’s name as a full name too or did you write her as cute girl from the party?” she asks.

“Very funny, I don’t know her surname yet, so I saved it as Palesa,” I say, laughing.

Speak of the devil, a text from her comes through.

Hey Mimi (can I call you that, your friend Amanda calls you that). Thank you for what you did for me. I really appreciated it. It’s not every day you meet a stranger that is genuinely kind, and you make it home alive thereafter. Can we meet this Saturday, lunch, on me, as a thank you?

Amanda is reading over my shoulder, smiling like a fool.

“You have a date on Saturday, what are you going to wear?” she says.

“Why do you insist it’s a date, also, how do you know my sexual orientation?” I ask.

“My gaydar is strong! I didn’t until this morning. I saw it in your eyes, you like Palesa, so I support you going after her,”

“Going after her, what is she? A train about to take off for good?” I say, laughing.

“That paper also says you like her,” she says, pointing at the drawing.

“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t know if she’s into girls or if she’s straight, sooo…wait, what did your gaydar read on her?” I say.

“It malfunctioned as soon as it picked up you. You won’t know until you ask her. But I don’t have any advice beyond this. Sadly, I am straight,” she says.

“Why sadly?” I ask.

“There are not enough fish in the sea, either they’re married, or douchebags…both actually,” she says.

“Girl, don’t I know it. So you don’t have a boyfriend then?” I ask.

“I do, let’s eat!” she says, dismissing my question.

“I get that you don’t wanna talk about it, I’ll let it go, for now. Let’s eat,” I say.

Tell us: What do you think of Mihlali and Amanda’s new-found friendship?