“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling self-conscious, because the fact remains that Ramano has seen that photo, even if he is being cool about it.
“For what?” He’s smiling again, but also looking puzzled.
“For reminding me of something – that I’m a still a whole human being, I suppose.” I stop as I think of something. “Hey, did you send me that note in maths?”
“Note? No, not me. What sort of note?”
So Shiluva isn’t my only friend. Now there’s Ramano, and whoever sent the note. A few more of the needles ease out of my heart as I understand this – after their number had been added to by Mrs Mzimbe.
“A sort of supportive note,” I say. “But anonymous, so maybe from someone too scared or shy to say anything openly. Still better than nothing.”
“Well, I’m not scared or shy,” Ramano says. “If you like, I can stay close and try to get people to back off. Not that I’m superhero material.”
Maybe not, but he’s no weedy weakling either.
“We’d better get to class,” I realise. “Science! Can you believe the marks that girl Masana gets?”
“Yours aren’t so bad either.”
“Nor yours.”
“So,” he laughs, “looking good for the future of farming.”
“You also want to do agriculture next year?” I’m surprised and pleased. “I knew you were aiming for UMP, but not what degree.”
“Can’t wait.”
It is so great, such a relief, to be talking and thinking about things that aren’t connected with that freakin’ photo.
Of course, soon enough I have to start thinking about it again. I still haven’t found the courage, the words, to tell Ma what has been going on.
“Pa will be home this weekend too,” I tell Shiluva on Friday morning when I find her waiting for me outside the school gate. “They’ve both just had payday, so it will be one of those weekends when Ma stops worrying for a bit, and they’re happy, and doing stuff together. How can I spoil that?”
“Hey wena, making excuses!” Shiluva is severe.
“Hola, you ladies.” It’s Ramano, joining us just before we walk through the gate.
Shiluva gives him a look. “You better not be one of those trash-ass boys giving my girl such a rough time.”
“No ma’am, not trash, not me, ma’am,” Ramano says, acting so meek Shiluva lets out a loud laugh.
There are still the usual comments and calls from the crowd loitering just inside the gate.
My face burns, but it gives me some strength, having Shiluva and Ramano walking on either side of me. I even lift my head, long enough to see that some people look surprised.
I’ve got friends. Two of them. Two friends who haven’t judged me.
The good feeling can’t last. After Mr Lekhuleni’s class, as I’m leaving, he says, “Lamulile Mathebula? I need to talk to you about your work. Come and see me after school this afternoon.”
I see the way he’s looking at me, his eyes glistening with something like greed. I catch the knowing look Unandi and her friends exchange.
“Yes sir,” I say, lying.
No way. Maybe I’ll be in trouble come Monday, but no way am I staying to see him after school.
***
Tell us: Will things get easier for Lamulile now she has Ramano as well as Shiluva supporting her, or is there worse to come?