I return to the busy part of Sabie to see who might be driving back to Simile. I notice a young girl giving me a look that’s almost guilty – one of Dambisa’s sisters, the younger one who’s still at primary school, Grade 7. Why is she looking at me like that?

Then the crowd closes round her, and she’s lost to view. I’m relieved not to see anyone else I know. Except that maybe they wouldn’t recognise my face anymore, now they’ve been so busy looking at the rest of me – the rest of me, which is now all safely covered up by my jeans and long, loose jersey.

At home, I read some of the novel I bought, but I feel bad about not studying, so later I try to do some work.

I wait until Pa goes out visiting some neighbours, his Saturday night thing. Then I tell Ma what’s been happening, and why. Of course I start crying.

“But Lamulile?” The worry lines on Ma’s face are the worst I’ve ever seen. “Why did you do such a thing? You? You’ve always been such a good girl.”

I cry even harder. “I did it because I was in love with Dambisa, and I believed he loved me back. Ma, I don’t know what to do!”

“What will your father think?” It’s clear Ma doesn’t know what to do either. “We have to tell him.”

“You do it, Ma. Please,” I beg in a panic.

In the end, we do it together, and Pa’s shock and disappointment cut me like a knife. There’s a lot of shouting and crying.

“And it’s too late to take you out of that school and get you in somewhere else,” he says when things get a bit calmer, mainly because we’re all so exhausted. “Matric is too important.”

“I’m not even sure I’ll pass now,” I confess with my voice all croaky from so much crying. “With everything going on, I’m finding it so hard to focus on work.”

“If we spoke to the school authorities?” Pa suggests.

I shake my head. “I’ve already tried talking to Mrs Mzimbe. She, sort of, said I brought it on myself. She’s right.”

“But some of the things you told us?” Ma is so upset, she can’t be still, moving around the room, picking things up, putting them down. “It’s not right.”

“I know.” I’m remembering what Masana said, only her words don’t seem so inspiring now, standing here, knowing I’ve let my parents down. “Ma, it feels like the photo is affecting every part of my life. Even things like my friendship with Jasmine.”

“That Dambisa.” Pa speaks heavily. “He must be a very bad, disrespectful person.”

“At least he’s out of my life now,” I say, remembering how his little sister looked this morning. “I feel sorry for his mother and sisters.”

But most of all, I feel sorry for my parents and myself. I can still hear them talking in worried voices after I’m in my room, trying hard to concentrate on studying, and failing flat-out.

I’ve done this to them.

 ***

Tell us: What does the reaction of Lamulile’s parents tell us about them?