It is evening, a few days later. Brian is with his friends at the corner. He spies Iziyo and her friend Chantelle walking past Mam’Gobhozi’s house. Chantelle is Mam’Gobhozi’s neighbour. She is coming from the spaza shop, two loaves of bread in her hands. Suddenly an arm slides around Brian’s neck. It is his friend, Vuyo.
“Hey, Brian. What are you looking at?” Vuyo inquires.
Brian can’t answer.
“Did you know that stalkers end up being criminals?” says Vuyo.
“Where did you get that, Vuyo?” says Brian.
“Wikipedia?” Vuyo looks unsure about what he has just stated. “We are having a house party to celebrate the holidays. You have to be there – it will be lit! Do you still have a thing for that girl?”
“Sure I’ll be there. And no, I no longer have a thing for her,” says Brian.
Iziyo, having spotted the boys, heads towards home, her mind numb. Chantelle grabs Iziyo’s waist and gives her a side hug.
“Hey sweets!” says Chantelle. “Why the long face?”
“It’s Brian,” says Iziyo.
Chantelle rolls her eyes.
“He said he doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore,” says Iziyo.
“That’s how men are. They take what they want and spit you out,” Chantelle says. “My advice to you is: don’t believe a man when he says he loves you. My Dad, my ex-boyfriend Sbu … all of them are lying snakes!”
The pain caused by Chantelle’s father leaving her mom for a younger woman still lingers. The whole thing led to her mom relying on alcohol to cope. Sbu, her ex-boyfriend, promised her heaven and the stars in it before he disappeared after taking her virginity.
As Chantelle speaks and spits, a whooshing sound roars past them. It comes from the engine of a VW Golf 6 GTI that speeds down the road. Chantelle grins with excitement. She grabs Iziyo’s hand and leads her quickly to the smoky fumes down the road.
The Golf 6 is doing ‘donuts’: swerving and spinning around. Most of the young people of Vilakazi Street run out of their yards to watch the asphalt-denting occasion. Guys whistle, girls scream with excitement as the car drifts.
S’the, the driver of the Golf 6 GTI, climbs out of the car to delirious applause. He has an uncombed ‘fade’ haircut, and wears loose, baggy jeans and a designer T-shirt. The tattoo on his arm that says ‘Money Over Everything’ he designed himself.
Girls tug each other as they watch S’the. Most girls would kill to be his girlfriend. Sthe surveys the scene; he is his usual smug self. He spots a new face: Iziyo.
“Shh! Iziyo, stop chickening out! S’the is checking you out,” says Chantelle.
S’the strides towards them, focusing on Iziyo.
“Yo, what up ’Ntel?” he says, greeting Chantelle.
“Hey, S’the,” says Chantelle.
“Who’s your friend? She’s beautiful,” says S’the, his eyes glued to Iziyo. “She is an angel.”
“She’s my friend. We are chommies, she’s–”
“Hush ’Ntel!” S’the puts his hand up to Chantelle’s face. “The angel can speak for herself.”
Chantelle looks like someone has knocked the wind out of her lungs.
“So, what’s your name?” says Sthe.
“Iziyo.”
“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. Do I know you from somewhere?”
Sthe spots something on Iziyo’s wrist. It is the bracelet that Brian gave her as a present.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Oh this?” Iziyo holds the glittering bracelet. She looks at it for a second. “It’s just something from someone unimportant.”
“Throw it away then,” says S’the.
“Maybe I will.” Iziyo takes it off and slips it into the back pocket of her Levi jeans.
Tell us: Are guys like S’the real trouble, or just having a bit of youthful fun with their cars and swagger?