On Sunday, Pa comes home from somewhere when I’m on the stoep listening to music on my phone.

“Loafing, useless piece of dung,” he says, ripping my earphones out and clipping me on the side of the head. “Haven’t you got schoolwork to do?”

When I go inside and grab my books, Pa has moved on to Dlani.

“… Useless is what you are. Say it,” Pa is shouting.

“I’m useless, Pa.” Dlani’s face is grey with fright.

“And you?” Pa sees me. “Zwelo? Useless too, you hear?”

“Yes, Pa,” I mutter.

I had left the house door open when I came in, and when I reach the stoep Rhandzu is on the other side of the security gate.

Rage and misery fill my head with their sickening red light. I drop my books.

“Let’s get out of here.” I’m urgent.

“Yes, let’s,” she says, waiting for me to let myself out. “Your father?”

This makes me feel worse, furious with her, with Pa, mostly with myself, for the loser’s answer I gave him just now.

“He expects a lot.”

“He’s a bully. If you live with that, then you’ve got some idea what Nkokone went through.”

Her brother again.

We slow down. Rhandzu says, “So, besides watching planes and your boxing, what else do you like doing?”

“Drawing.” I feel awkward saying it. “But only, you know, to pass the time.”

“Another thing you have in common with Nkokone.”

Now she sinks down into some sad place. Without thinking about what I’m doing, I put my arm round her. We sort of turn towards each other and stop walking. I breathe in her cream-soda scent, and then we’re kissing. She tastes clean, and with both my arms round her now, I’m conscious of the heat of her body through her soft pink top.

It feels so right, it stops being about giving or taking comfort. It’s just her and me, and the way it’s meant to be, our two mouths making a beautiful dance.

Then she pulls back and moves her hands so they’re pressing against my chest, putting space between us.

“We need to go slowly, Zwelo,” she says with a little breath-hitch like a hiccup.

I accept it, no threatening or manipulating like I’d usually try. She lets me hold her hand as we start walking again. I slide a sideways look at her. She’s smiling, that small sucked-in smile, like she has a secret.

“So … are we like a couple or what?” I say.

Her smile stretches outward. “Could be.”

I want to shout or laugh, do something to express the feeling that fills me up and wants to burst out into the air and spread itself around the world and every person in it.

Rhandzu and me. Me and Rhandzu. How amazing is that?

***

Tell us what you think: Do Zwelo and Rhandzu have a chance as a couple?