Wednesday

I’ve been praying lately, just like Gran suggested. I’ve been praying, for things to get better. I want to be that golden child again. That well behaved, golden child. I don’t want to be a problem like my little brother. I want my life back. I want to sleep on the bed again. I want my blazer back!

I apologised to Gabisile and Mbali and they’ve forgiven me. In fact, Mbali also apologised for intentionally getting me kicked out of class. But she said she was still heart broken and wanted nothing to do with me.

I’m done with girls. From now on I’ll focus on myself, school, Dylan, and trying to get my blazer back.

During lunch time we sit under one of the trees at school, Dylan and I. He tells me how bird shit brings good luck and how he didn’t study for his spelling test and still passed it after a birdy pooped on his shoulder. Hence we sit under a tree, just until a birdy shits on me.

Dylan looks at my lunch, “What do you have today?”

“Jam and peanut butter sandwich. Want some?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“And what do you have today?”

“Also a jam and peanut butter sandwich. Want some?”

We have the same lunch but it’s important that we exchange sandwiches. That’s what friends do, they share. Plus it strengthens our friendship.

“Sure, I’ll have some.” I reply.

We sit in silence and enjoy our sandwiches. This silence is however ruined, and replaced by sudden chanting and singing.

“Guri! Guri! Guri!”

The food source has been communicated to the rest and then like ants they come. One by one. It’s a fight. Morena Nkhato and Simphiwe and to make the rest of the learners aware, we shout:

“Guri! Guri! Guri!”

And you’ll see them come, just like the ants came when I dropped my lollipop at home.

I don’t have my blazer, I’ve been dismissed from duty, but I have to go and help stop the fight. It’s just who I am. I get there as fast as I can and get in between the two learners. Morena is stubborn and I tell him to stop already, otherwise there’ll be trouble. They break it off and the crowd disappears. Just like how the ants disappeared after I kicked the lollipop.

Break is over and we head back to class. We do our special handshake before we split. Fist pump, fist pump, high five, low five, do the jive.

“Check you later,” Dylan says and I go back to sit outside, right next to the door. I left my diary at home. Mom signed it, but do you think Mrs Viljoen is going to believe me?

Angelen and her puppy Kruger are up first for the show and tell. I’m watching everything from outside. Mbali’s cat tries to run out, so Mrs Viljoen tells her to close the door.

“Askies my kind,” she says. “You can watch from the window.”

I don’t even bother. I sit down and put my face between my legs. I think about little bro and what he said this morning.

“I wish you sleep on the floor for the rest of the year! I sleep peacefully without you kicking me and taking all the blankets.”

The little devil really has it coming for him.

The door opens, it’s Dylan. He keeps looking up. He says he’s recording everything for me on his tablet and he’ll show me later. I appreciate that. That’s what best friends do for one another, like that cliché scene in movies, where the one tells the other to go on without him:

“Run, run! Save yourself, leave me here.”

And then the other one says no, and that:

“We’re in this together…”

That’s what Dylan is doing for me. We’re not allowed to use our tablets for anything else except to access our e-books. He’s risking it all for me. It could get confiscated, just like that.

Again, he looks up.

“Did you perhaps see a little green, talking birdy fly out the window?” Dylan asks.

“Nope”

“He flew out as soon as Mrs Viljoen let him out of his cage.”

I watch him run off. He runs funny. Dylan leaves the door open. Behind him I see his dog, Britney, run after him. I know it’s Britney. Behind Britney is a puppy, and he seems to be chasing after Britney, his tongue is sticking out and he’s breathing heavily. The hormone levels must be up.

Behind the puppy is Angelen and she’s chasing after him, calling him by his name.

“Kruger! Kruger! Get back here!”

Behind Angelen is Mrs Viljoen. She’s calling out three names.

“Harry! Angelen! Harry, Harry! Dylan! Get back here!”

Harry is the ‘green, talking birdy’. He’s a parrot. In the township they’d think that it’s all witchcraft to have a talking birdy.

The chase is over and in her arms Angelen is carrying Kruger. Britney is walking alongside Dylan; she’s too big for him to carry. There is no sign of Harry, but Mrs Viljoen says he’ll be back. She doesn’t seem to be too concerned. She says parrots don’t go far and they always return to their owners.

Quite some time has gone by. I hear a funny voice but I don’t see anyone. I look around and still nothing.

“Harry wants biscuit! Harry wants biscuit!”

It’s Harry! Mrs Viljoen’s parrot. He repeats, “Harry wans biscuit, Harry wans biscuit.” And he hops onto my shoulder.

I knock…

“How can I help you Meneer?”

I show her what’s on my shoulder.

“Harry wans biscuit! Harry wans biscuit!”

***

Tell us: Do you think Lincoln is accurate when he says ‘township’ people would never have a parrot?