Nandipha takes the same route to school every day. It’s been a few worrying weeks since she last saw Simo, but she keeps hoping that maybe her friend will be waiting for her at the Pakistani shop. She crosses the road, her earphones plugged in. She changes channels:

“We’re crossing over to Dikgang Moeng, who is reporting live from Wits University, where the students are staging a silent protest on the campus. Dikgang, how is the situation there?”

She stops suddenly in the middle of the road; taxis and cars hoot at her. She’s seen Simo leaning against the wall of the shop, like she always does, waiting for Nandipha on her way to school.

But today she is not wearing school uniform. She is wearing black leggings and a baggy T-shirt Nandipha once saw worn by Simo’s mother. Nandipha waves as she dodges the cars, but Simo doesn’t see her. She is staring out into space, like she doesn’t see anything of what’s happening around her.

“Si, hawu, nguwe lo? I’ve been worried sick,” Nandipha says, hugging Simo, who hugs her unenthusiastically in return, patting her on the back like they’re mere church friends.

“Simo,” Nandipha says holding her friend’s shoulders, “what’s happening? Why haven’t you been coming to school? So much has happened.” She gets teary.

“Manje?” Simo asks Nandipha.

“I missed you okay. I missed you. I tried to call, to text, but you just ignored me. You’re my closest friend Si, and I want the best for you,” Nandipha says.

“Eish, Nands, I don’t even know where to start,” Simo says, sounding defeated.

Nandipha looks closely at Simo. She has a thick layer of make-up plastered on her face.

“Why this?” Nandi touches her friend’s face. Simo looks away and tries to wipe away the tears that are beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“Ouch,” Simo says in a whisper. Nandipha grasps her by the shoulders again and turns Simo slowly to face her.

“Si, what is happening?” she asks. Simo lets go of her strength and the tears pour.

“Everything is wrong Nandipha. What was I thinking? Wrong. Wrong!” Simo cries out.

While Simo is crying on her shoulder, Nandi thinks of her Afrikaans essay. She needs to print it out in the computer lab. Now she is going to be late. She prays that Mrs Duiker accepts it on a USB stick. She says a silent amen while patting Simo’s back.

“Si, you’re gonna have to tell me everything so that I can help you,” Nandipha says.

“There is so much to tell Nands, and I don’t want to make you late for school. You can come to my home after school,” Simo says.

Even though Simo and Nandipha have been friends since Grade 8, Nandipha has never seen the inside of Simo’s flat; she is not even sure if Simo stays where she says she stays. But Simo used to come to Nandi’s house several times a week. She would stroll in and open the fridge like it’s her own house.

“Okay. I’ll see you after school Si,” Nandipha says and walks away.

What has happened to Simo? Her thoughts are racing. Why the thick layer of make-up? Why the baggy T-shirt?

Nandipha distracts herself from thinking about what happened to Simo by trying to remember the directions to her place. Simo had once told her how to get there, back in Grade 10, when they were doing a history assignment together, but they ended up meeting at the library. The bit that Nandipha has seen of that street marks it as dangerous. It is in the top five of the places in Hillbrow you definitely want to avoid. Rumour has it that it is heavily guarded by men who do God knows what.

Nandipha starts to fear for her life when she thinks of having to walk there later in the afternoon, and secretly hopes that once again they’ll change the plan and meet at the library.

At school the hours crawl by. Nandipha can’t wait to get out. She can’t concentrate. All she can think about is Simo. To her surprise, she also starts to get strangely excited about walking in one of Hillbrow’s notorious streets. This is good practice for when I become a hotshot journalist investigating thugs, she thinks to herself.

Finally, after what seems like eternity, the bell rings. “Out in the streets, they call it murder,” she sings to herself as she starts to walk. She calls Simo, who picks up.

“Are you on your way?” Simo asks.

“Yes. Harbour Square right?” Nandipha asks.

“Yes. Number 209. Um … just press the buzzer and I’ll open for you.” Simo sounds hesitant, unsure.

***

Tell us what you think: What has happened to Simo?