Andisiwe

There was a whooshing sound. “Got it!” the other girl said triumphantly. I had forgotten about her. The security guard’s hand disappeared and I fell to the floor.

He turned to her. “What’s that?”

She waved a bright yellow cellphone at him. It was one of the latest ones I saw in adverts, with a big flat screen. On it was a blurred picture that I couldn’t see properly, but the guard obviously saw something he didn’t like.

He grabbed the cellphone out of her hand. “Delete the photos!” he shouted at her. “Otherwise I break it.”

“Too late,” the girl said. “I’ve just emailed myself a little video. It’s already on the computer at home. It’s a video of a security guard starting to rape a young girl, perhaps in return for her freedom. I think your boss is going to be very interested in this little show.”

The guard was pressing buttons wildly on her phone, but she grabbed it out of his hands. “I will have to have a chat with my daddy when he comes with the police. He’s a clever lawyer, my daddy. I’m sure he will have something to say.”

The man looked like he’d break out of his skin with rage. I could see he wanted to hit her, to hurt her. But she didn’t look frightened at all. She hardly stepped away. And with her fancy English accent the guard and I both knew that she came from power somewhere. Her daddy probably was a fancy lawyer.

“You’re lying,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound convinced. She pressed something on her phone. ‘Let’s have some fun,’ a voice said from her hand. His voice.

“Yup, I’ve got it all,” she said. “The sound came out surprisingly well.”

The guard pulled into his skin, stopped himself from lashing out. “You – you’re a thief! You think you’re so special.”

“You’re a rapist,” the girl said. “And that’s worse.” She looked at me, still on the floor. “Get up,” she said. Then she turned to the guard who was standing there like a deflated balloon.

“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. This girl and I are going to walk out the door. And you are going to tell your manager that you made a mistake.” She paused. “A big mistake.”

The guard didn’t say anything. The girl grabbed my hand. “Come on,” she hissed. And together we walked out of the door. As she walked out, she looked back. “And I’m not deleting that movie,” she said. “So you’d better not try that on anyone else. My daddy will be checking up on you.”

“Get out!” His voice was furious, and I was scared, but the girl just laughed.

I wanted to rush out past the shoppers and the tills, out to safety. “Wait,” said the girl. “I’ve still got to do some shopping.”

“You’re crazy,” I said. “I am going.”

“I got you out of there,” she said, “so you’re staying with me.” And she drifted down the aisles with a basket, throwing in a few tins and a tray of chicken pieces. We exchanged names, schools, details of our families. I could hardly concentrate though.

At the till she paid with a card, made a joke with the cashier, acted like there was no problem in the world. I was terrified the guard would come back with the manager and arrest us. But there was no sign of him.

***

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