Something was wrong. I went home and continued phoning Kylie but she didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?” my mother asked.

“It’s Kylie. She didn’t come to school today. And now she’s not answering her phone.”

“Maybe she’s feeling too sick to answer. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

I didn’t want to worry my mother by explaining about how Kago and his friends were acting so funny. I needed to find Kylie’s house. Something was wrong. I knew the general area so I headed that way. I waited at the corner near the hardware shop. I thought someone around there would know her. An older woman was passing and I rushed up to her.

“I’m sorry madam. I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for the house of the Maines.”

“Maine? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

She went on her way. I asked a girl about our age and she didn’t know the place either. I was becoming desperate. I needed to find Kylie. A man passed. He looked like he might be drunk but I needed to find Kylie’s house. “Sorry, sir. I’m looking for my friend’s house. Her name is Kylie Maine.”

The man was drunker than I thought but while I waited for him to think about it, a young man was walking by and he heard me. “Is that the tiny one? The sister for Refilwe?”

I went to him. “Yes! Yes, that’s the one!”

“Sure I know the place.” He gave me directions. It wasn’t far.

I walked down the road and turned onto a narrow dirt path. There were lots of shacks made from corrugated iron and old bricks. Some even used cardboard. They were close together and between them a thin river of dirty water ran along, parallel to the path. At the end of one line, I saw the red door the young man had told me to look out for. I knocked on it.

A man came to the door. He was very drunk, his breath strong and yeasty even from a distance. His T-shirt was torn and dirty. “Yeah?” he said when he saw me.

“I’m looking for Kylie, Kylie Maine?” I asked, sure I’d come to the wrong house.

“OK.” He closed the door on me but I heard him yell, “Heh! A fat black girl is here for you!”

The door opened again and there was Kylie. “How did you find this place?”

“I asked. I needed to see you. I knew something was wrong.”

Her face was drawn. Dark circles sat heavy under her eyes. If it was even possible she seemed smaller than usual. “I never wanted you to see this place.”

“Was that your father?”

“No.” Then she looked behind her. A tall, thin woman pushed past.

“Who’s your young friend there, Kylie?” the woman asked.

“None of your business,” Kylie said.

The woman wore a low-cut blouse and a short, tight skirt. She tottered away on red spiked heels. When she was far enough away, Kylie spoke again. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I needed to find you. What happened?”

“I never wanted you to see this place.”

The man shouted from inside, “Close the door! You’re letting the cold in.”

Kylie closed the door behind her and started walking down the narrow lane, back to where I had come from. She said nothing. She just walked and I followed her. She turned into a small park and sat down on a rusty bench.

We sat quietly for a few minutes and then Kylie said, “He’s my father. That drunk man is my father. And that’s my sister. She goes out all night and comes home in the morning with the money we use to live on. That’s my life. That’s me.”

Her eyes were filling with tears. I took her tiny hand in mine. “That’s them, not you.”

She shook her head and began to cry. “No! It’s me! I used to think it wasn’t but now I know it’s me. It’s no use. This is what I am.”

***

Tell us what you think: If you come from a difficult family do you have no chance, or can you rise above it?