“Sir,” she said, “I’m sorry. Of course I should have spoken to you personally. But, I’m sure you agree that it’s a good idea? To encourage a culture of reading, get our students to help each other?”

Mr Mahlangu chuckled. “Oh, Miss Solani. You are so young, my dear. So naïve.”

Nolitha stared at him. What did her age have to do with anything?

“You’ll learn soon enough.” His voice was dismissive. “Encouraging ‘a culture of reading’,” he mocked her voice as he spoke the words, “doesn’t work in a school like this, with students like these. What will they do once you have ‘encouraged’ them? Take their book learning and use it – where? No, no, no, Miss Solani, far rather get them out and earning as soon as possible. Helping their families.”

“But they’re so bright,” Nolitha protested. “The boys and girls in my class are going places, Mr Mahlangu. They’re going to apply for university. At least three of them want to become teachers. One boy, Cebo, is a brilliant artist, wants to study architecture. Andisiwe, she’s so good at Maths. And then there’s Faniswa, she’s going to do graphic—”

“Thula! Enough!” Mr Mahlangu held up a hand. “I have work to do, Miss Solani.” He settled back in his chair and waved at the door. “I’m sure you have a class to teach.”

“I do, sir. I told you. The Grade 12s, and I told them I’d check on the total of the Book— the money we’ve raised.”

“There is no money, Miss Solani.”

Nolitha gazed at him, her mouth agape.

“But there is. I know there is. We’ve raised over R500, maybe R600. Enough to buy two—”

“I know, I know.” Mr Mahlangu glanced at his watch again. “The money was raised without my permission, but I was aware that you were raising it for the betterment of the pupils at the school and that is what it has been spent on. There will be no bookcase, Miss Solani. There will be no reading group. You will not embark on a project like this again without my say-so. And now you had better be off.”

Nolitha couldn’t move. Her feet refused to pick themselves off the floor.

“But that was our money. My class worked hard—”

“Yes, yes. Please tell them I’m very grateful for their efforts.”

“But you have to give it back. It wasn’t yours to spend. What did you do with it? What did you spend it on?” Nolitha’s voice rose higher and higher. “Not on the school, or the pupils, that’s for sure. Where is it, Mr Mahlangu? What did you do with our money?”

There was a movement outside the door and Mr Mahlangu called out. “Mr Ncane? Please escort Miss Solani back to the staffroom and check her timetable with her. She seems to have forgotten what she should be doing at this very moment.”

Mr Ncane came in and took Nolitha by the elbow. “Come along,” he said, “let’s get moving.”

“Tell him, Mr Ncane.” Nolitha’s chin was trembling; her eyes swam with tears. “Tell him I asked you for permission to go ahead. Tell him I asked you to speak to him.”

He was pulling her arm now. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“A fool? What about him? He’s made a thief of me! I handed in the students’ money in good faith. He was supposed to keep it safe. Keep it in the safe. But he’s spent it, Mr Ncane. He’s spent every cent of it and it was never his money in the first place.”

“Close the door after you, Dengana.” Mr Mahlangu’s voice was bored.

Nolitha turned back and watched as Mr Mahlangu settled back in his chair, his hands crossed over his skinny ribs, his eyes closing.

“Off you go now.” Mr Ncane loosened his grip.

“You didn’t even try to stick up for me.” Nolitha stepped away from him. “You don’t care that he’s stolen money from children who can hardly afford to eat – not like you and that thief inside there. You’re both sitting in the lap of luxury, even if means stealing school money.”

“Strong words, Miss Solani. Be careful,” Mr Ncane warned. “Be careful what you say.”

“Or what?” Nolitha’s shoulders sagged. “Or you’ll take my class away from me? Give them to Gogo Hamba instead? Or maybe you’d like to teach them, Mr Ncane? Maybe you’d like to do your job for a change?”

Mr Ncane held up a hand. “I’ll forget you said that, Miss Solani. Now off you go. Back to class.”

***

Tell us what you think: Were you surprised when Mr Mahlangu said there was no money?