“‘Hate’, Neo? That is a strong word. Have you really thought this through? Like – seriously?” says Jabs. I knew he would say something like that.

Jabs is always wanting people to think things through. He reckons that’s why human beings have minds: so we can consider carefully instead of reacting with blind emotion. Or by pure instinct, like animals.

“Let your mind guide you, not your heart,” he often says. “Thinking is more important than feeling.”

At school too, he always says stuff like this, whenever the guys are getting upset or arguing or picking fights or going off the deep end. ‘Ban Ki-moon’, that his nickname in class. You know, like the Secretary General of the United Nations.

Up on the wall behind his bed, he has a poster that says: ‘A life unexamined is a life not worth living’.

Normally this is what I love most about Jabs: his calm, thoughtful approach to life. Normally I am really proud to be his girlfriend. But right this moment, I am just irritated.

“What do you know about anything, Jabulani? You don’t understand at all. That could have been me swanning around in designer jackets and Gucci shades. But now Felecia has ended up with all the good stuff. And now she comes here, acting like she’s all kind and generous. When all she’s doing is dumping the trash she doesn’t want any more. So she can empty her cupboards to get more stuff.”

I’m on a roll now. I hardly take a breath. “And then, just to add insult to injury, she hides something in the box to mock me as well. Like she’s having a good laugh at my expense. Of course I hate her!”

Jabs strokes my cheek to calm me down. “That doesn’t sound like hate, Neo. That sounds like jealousy. That sounds like a dose of ‘compare and despair’.”

‘Compare and despair’? What’s that supposed to mean? Jabs is always coming up with these odd slogans. But the touch of his hand on my cheek calms me down. So when my mother pops her head round the door to see why I’m yelling, I can say, “It’s OK, Mama. Everything is fine.”

Quietly now I ask Jabs, “Compare and despair? What is that about?”

“Well,” he explains, “you know how we sometimes compare our lives with those of other people, and we think they have it so great and they are so happy and so lucky? And then we think about our own lives and it makes us despair. It makes us feel bad, like we are losers. But that’s a silly way to think.”

“Why?”

“Because, Neo my love, we never know the whole truth about someone else’s life. You don’t know if Felecia has difficult issues she needs to deal with.”

I shake my head. Difficult issues in Felecia’s luxury designer world? I doubt it. I mean, I know Jabs has an amazing mind. But that doesn’t mean he’s always right!

Together Jabs and I open the box. At least the clothes inside are all washed and ironed and neatly folded. Washed and ironed and neatly folded by Auntie Sisi’s maid, no doubt. But still, at least they don’t look or smell like jumble-sale garbage.

There are two pairs of designer jeans. Some really cute sequinned tops. Luckily, Felecia and I are the same size so everything will fit. And I suppose I should be grateful. I know my mother is really grateful. She saves a lot, not having to buy clothes for me.

Oh and some bottles of nail polish. Quite nice colours actually and hardly used at all. And a dress in a lovely shade of ivory. Yes, a dress!

Now you must understand: Felecia never wears dresses. Nor skirts. Not ever, not since she went to live in her fancy house. So finding the dress is quite surprising. It’s beautiful too, with embroidered butterflies down one side.

Jabs holds it up. “I reckon you will look lovely in this, Neo. I will have to take you somewhere special, wearing this.”

And it has the shop label still attached. Just with the price torn off. So she’s clearly never worn this dress. It is brand new. And I’m wondering: Did Felecia buy this specially for me? For a moment, I forget how much I hate my cousin.

I mean, in the past we were close, mostly loving cousins.

Once I came home from school crying because some bigger girl had slapped me and pushed me over. And it was Felecia who wiped my face and put her arm around me and listened while I told the whole story. And next day, she went and shouted at that girl. Right there in the playground.

“You leave Neo alone! Otherwise I will tell her father and he’ll come complain to the Headmaster. And then you’ll be in big trouble!” Felecia shouted. Even though my father had passed away.

The big girl never bothered me again.

We have reached the bottom of the box now. And there I see – nothing! It’s empty, no hidden messages from my cousin.

“See?” Jabs says. “No mockery, no digs, no laughing at you. You mustn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions, Neo. Sometimes your conclusions are wrong.”

And maybe he is right, my Ban Ki-moon? Maybe the Lucky Dube ticket stubs and the Swiss photo and the condom got there completely by accident before? Maybe they were already lying in the boxes and Felecia just didn’t notice them? She’s not one for noticing the finer details, my cousin.

Except…

Except there is a bulge beneath one of the cardboard flaps. Something is hidden down there after all. Slowly I pull it out. It is a packet of pills.

***

Tell us what you think: What might the pills be for?