That night David had the nightmare again, but for the first time ever he managed to wake himself.

The weight on his chest eased but his eyes felt as if they were full of beach sand. He had stayed up too late reading the book Miss Appel had lent him, but he couldn’t help it. The myths and legends spoke to him. What sacrifice did sailors have to make to the sea? Did it have something to do with the squid?

Slowly David forced himself into a sitting position. He searched for the book: it was still open to the illustration of the squid. ‘A life for a life’, read the text. What did it mean? He closed the book and pushed it back under the bed. Today he had to convince Miss Appel to let him rewrite his paper. She must be able to do something.

David waited for the study break when Kendell and his manne would be smoking endjies at the other end of the scabby field – close enough to the staffroom so that the teachers could see them, but too far away to reach.

“Miss Appel?”

She sighed when she saw him and hunched at her desk, her shoulders a bony coat hanger.

“Ag, David. I know what you’re going to ask me, and I can’t, my boy.”

“Please!” He was ashamed to beg, like a laaitie outside Mama Wendy’s spaza.

“It’s not me. It’s the Department. You have to apply for a supp. Throw yourself on their mercy. Just tell the truth.”

“But that will only be in February!” His stepfather would make him go on the boat long before then. Christmas was high season: all the tourists came sniffing for perlemoen.

“I’m sorry.”

She really was, he could see.

That night they were all, for once, at the kitchen table. His mother dished up the fish bredie, her spoon clattering. David didn’t know how he was going to choke it down. There wasn’t enough air in the room for the four of them.

“Ah,” said his stepfather, pleased with himself. He was sweating booze through his pores, his eyes half-lidded like a lizard. “Fisherman’s hotpot!” He ate quickly, with one arm curled around the bowl. Kendell’s posture was identical. They even breathed the same way, heavily, through the sinuses.

You don’t belong here, thought David. I wish you would just drown. It wasn’t fair that good people like his oupa were gone, and ones like his stepdad lived on, fat and happy as a maggot.

“How did the exam go yesterday, Dawie?” his mother said brightly.

“Fine.”

Kendell snorted. His stepfather’s head snapped up. Still chewing, he fastened his eyes on David.

“Sê weer?”

“I said it was fine.”

Kendell banged his spoon on the board of the table, near David’s fingers. “Why don’t you tell your mommy what really happened, hey?” He sat back, satisfied. David gazed at him with hate. There’s so much I could tell them about you, he thought. That you got Layla pregnant and that’s why she dropped out. That you were the one who stole Oom Jazz’s fishing gear. That the fire that time there by the school was you.

“Dawie? What’s going on?”

“I didn’t finish the paper,” he said slowly. He couldn’t look at his stepfather. He knew that the man’s sweat would make his face glisten like a snake’s.

“But why, seuntjie?” Her mouth was trembling. “Did you run out of time? That’s never happened before. You’re usually such a good student!”

“I was feeling sick.”

“So what happens now? You can’t just leave it!” Her tears were starting. “What about next year? What about going to study?” O Here Jissis, here it came: the flood. David looked at his hands.

“You know what I think?” His stepfather’s voice was low. “I think David has been wasting our time.”

“What? No!”

The man reached under his chair and pulled out the precious book of myths and legends that David had hidden under his bed. It was heavy: the faded green tattoo of a sea serpent wriggled on his stepdad’s biceps. He whacked the book down on the table so hard that the cover was dented.

Kendell smirked, enjoying the show.

“What’s this, then? What’s this kak you’re reading when you’re supposed to be studying?”

“It’s for Life Sciences ,” David said lamely.

His stepfather parted the pages. There was the picture of the colossal pink squid sailing across the waters. It looked silly, David saw. A child’s book. There were so many other things in the world that were more terrifying than sea monsters!

“You are not a laaitie, David,” his stepfather said, shaking his head. His mother was sniffling into a yellow tissue. “You are too old for this shit.”

“But I can do a rewrite,” said David. “Miss Appel said I must apply for a supp.”

“It’s too late for that now,” said his stepfather. “You can’t go back. Now you must be a man.” His stepfather pushed his chair back. “I’ve had enough,” he said. He jerked his chin at the boys. “Julle. Kom.”

At the beach the manne were waiting.

***

Tell us:What would you do if you failed an exam? Should Kendell have told his father about David’s failure?