Friday

A kiss on one cheek, a kiss on the other cheek, and finally a kiss on the forehead.

“Bye, MoMo, enjoy your weekend.” She waves as she walks away.

“Bye, bye, Mbali, enjoy your weekend too,” I reply. A few minutes later comes my other ‘other half’: Gabisile. I open my arms in an attempt to give her a hug, but she pushes me away… and then dishes a slap!

“You two-timing dog! How could you!?”

Dylan, my best friend, who has been watching from a distance, comes running. His blond hair gets in the way of his eyesight and the shoelaces of his black Buccaneers untie. He doesn’t wear Toughees like the rest of us.

“I told you it was a bad idea! I told you,” he says, as he laughs out loud. He has been warning me. He told me it was wrong to two-time Mbali and Gabi, but I didn’t think it was. I was only having fun. I enjoy the hugs and kisses I get.

Maybe I should’ve listened. After all, he is smarter than I am and much more mature. Still, I can’t help it. All the attention I’ve been getting since I received my maroon blazer and was crowned Prep School Head Prefect is insane! My blazer is a babe magnet! The girls have been coming in left and right, eyes on me every single day of the week, my peers pointing at me like, ‘Look, there’s the Head Prefect!’

But that’s how this Friday afternoon goes: not too smoothly. My scholar transport driver drops me off at Gran’s house and I wave goodbye. I walk in and I say hi to Gran. There are fries on the table and I can’t wait to dig in! But first, I have to get the formalities out of the way …

“So how was your day? How was your Friday the thirteenth?” Gran asks.

And only then it strikes me that I got caught cheating by Gabi on Friday the thirteenth. But then again, I’ve never entertained these superstitions.

Gran, in contrast, is very superstitious. She almost killed my little brother when he opened an umbrella in the house. She also says we’re not allowed to whistle in the house, or cut our nails at night, or cut our own hair. The list is endless!

But the salt, the salt, I’d like to believe, is the deadliest. She’ll never, ever, let us touch it.

“Gogo, are you sure that you’ve never watched Harry Potter?” I always tease. She says that one day we will see for ourselves.

“Anything bad happen to you today?” she asks now. “Your brother got a hectic hiding! He flushed his friend’s lunch at crèche.” She laughs. She enjoys it when we’re corporally punished.

Little bro has always been a problem. Think of Denise the Menace and Problem Child. He’s that type of child.

“My day, was … alright … Gogo.”

Of course I don’t tell her about my cheating saga. In fact hell will break loose if Gran and Ma find out that I am even dating. Compared to little bro, I’m a golden child, always well behaved! And it has to stay that way.

I guess if Gran raised you then you’d be like me. You can’t not be a good child if my gran did some of the raising.

Think about it: if your gran survived apartheid, has a visible beard, wears a beret, drinks Hansa Pilsner, speaks Afrikaans on the regular, hates the DA, and walks around with an Okapi in her bra – would you not devote yourself to being your best self at all times? Exactly. Sooner or later little bro will be disciplined. Gran says she will work on him.

“My day was just alright, Gogo.”

***

Tell us: What do you think about MoMo dating both Mbali and Gabi?