As he lay in bed that night he saw the coach’s angry face and heard his words, “What do you know of Mandla?” Dumi had tried to talk to him, but maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. He thought of how Mandla had looked when he had said that about the DSTV, like he was shocked –  shocked to find out that Dumi had figured him out, perhaps. Well he couldn’t keep his lifestyle a secret forever, thought Dumi. “The truth will out,” that’s what Shorty would say.

Dumi was getting into his soccer kit when his mom asked him again if he had asked Mandla out. “I can’t think about it now.” He snapped. “I’ve got to focus on the game.” There was a friendly at the Academy and he couldn’t be late. He wanted to be chosen so badly. He couldn’t bear to think about what he would do if he wasn’t. But Mandla was so good. Was that what this was about –  why he was making fun of Mandla to his new friends –  so that if Mandla won the place, Dumi could say, Well of course he won because he had all the advantages. A personal trainer, good food, rest, and he didn’t have to do chores after school…”  And they would agree and say it was disgraceful and unfair.

As Dumi ran out onto the field for the match, he looked for Mandla. He usually played position 9 up front, and Dumi had got used to relying on him to pass the ball. But today he wasn’t there. Dumi could see the coach on his cellphone. Then he was running up to Dumi. “Do you know where Mandla is?” Dumi shook his head. Is that all the coach could think of? Where his golden boy was? They put on a sub  in Mandla’s place. But it wasn’t the same. This guy didn’t pass the ball his way and was always faking injuries and making a big drama of everything, playing for attention.

After the match the coach came up to them in the changing room.  He didn’t look happy. They had lost, and Dumi was thinking that the coach thought it was because Mandla wasn’t there, and that he was about to blame Dumi. “Dumi, I just  got a call from the soccer scout. They want to make the decision tomorrow at a match. He wants to see you and Mandla play, but I can’t get hold of Mandla, He’s not answering his messages or SMSes. Do you know…?” Then he looked at Dumi’s face. “Never mind. I forgot you don’t even talk to him…” And he stormed off again.

Dumi went to be early so that he would be prepared for the match the next day. It was good that Mandla didn’t know about the game, he thought. That way the decision would be made for the scout. There was only one player who would get into the Academy and that was him.  He turned over in bed satisfied that things were going to go his way. What a stroke of luck! But he couldn’t sleep, however hard he tried. He tossed and turned. These thoughts went round in a circle in his head like two people fighting for attention, the good and the bad: I could tell Mandla about the match, I know where he lives. Why should I? The scout will tell him, he knows Mandla’s daddy. Then, was it the scout’s BMW, could he be sure? There were lots of BMWs out there. What had the coach meant when he said Dumi didn’t know Mandla? He tossed his blankets off and went outside to get some fresh air. What if he made it into the Academy because Mandla wasn’t there? Would it weigh too heavily on his conscience? Would things start going wrong for him? On and on…the thoughts were driving him crazy. Eventually, in the early morning, he fell asleep and got in a couple of hours.