Vanessa comes running to the window. She’s out of breath, she’s clearly run all the way back. 

I nervously look behind her to see if anyone is following her. They’ve arrested Johnny. What if Vanessa told the police what had happened? I don’t want to end up in a jail cell. Crazy! I can’t run away to Leiden or Blikkiesdorp; it’s too close. I’ll hit the road to Kimberley or some other far-off place. 

“They took Johnny away,” Vanessa says, gasping. “He wanted to smooth-talk the police and tell them that it’s his dad’s Golfie. But the story about what happened on the bridge is all over Bellville and the police found the Golfie on CCTV.” She glares at me. “I told you we should have gone to the police station. Now my berk is in a jail cell.” 

I help her climb through the open window. She sighs heavily. “The whole thing stinks. Johnny told the officer that he’d driven the Golfie…” 

I stare at her, not sure what to say.

“Do you hear that!” Vanessa shouts at me. 

There’s a knock at Vanessa’s bedroom door and it opens. 

Her mom is there, wearing a pink gown and fluffy slippers. “No,” she says. “This is my bloody house. You come back in the early morning hours and then you kick up a row like this. Behave yourselves!” 

“Sorry, mommy, sorry, we’ll go now,” Vanessa apologises and closes the door as her mother leaves. “So my berk has to go to prison in your place?” she asks, glaring at me.

I don’t answer. My thoughts are racing. We have to help Johnny, but how?

Vanessa faces Tessa. “Talk to him, so he’ll do the right thing. Johnny’s his best friend, isn’t he?” 

Tessa looks at me with big eyes. The situation is obviously difficult for her as well. “What are you going to do, David?” 

I think about running without looking back. 

“You’re taking a long time to make up your mind,” Vanessa says, her voice rising.

“Be quiet, Vanessa,” Tessa says. “You don’t need to make such a scene.” 

“Let’s go to Johnny’s dad and explain everything,” Vanessa says. “That’s, if he doesn’t know already. Uncle Boeta knows we went to Club Seven, because he basically entrusted the Golfie to you, David. Should I call him?” 

I sink onto the bed and rub my face with my hands. If I help Johnny, we’re both screwed, but if I run, I’m a coward. Jeeze! 

“Call uncle Boeta,” I say and gaze through the window. A bird twitters past. 

Vanessa finds the number and puts the phone to her ear. She listens more than she talks. All she manages to say is, “yes uncle Boeta,” and “no uncle Boeta,” the whole time.

“What’s going on?” I ask when she puts the phone down. 

“Uncle Boeta says they’re at Bellville police station,” Vanessa says. “The guy on the bridge isn’t dead.”

“He isn’t dead?” I ask, surprised. The weight slips off my shoulders like a blanket.

We leave through the door this time, and walk the short distance to the police station.

I feel a pang of guilt when we get to the police station. Johnny’s dad is smoking in the garden outside, a scowl on his face. I know without a doubt that this grootman is disappointed in me, but I’ve never been as relieved in my life as I am now. Not that I’d admit it to anyone. Uncle Boeta had known Johnny had been too drunk, that’s why he’d wanted me to drive. He’d trusted us to act responsibly.

“You’ve made a real mess,” he says to me, his face like thunder. “Why did you drive away? You didn’t even hit the man. He’d fallen over on the sidewalk when you drove past and was passed out dead drunk. You drove over his empty beer bottle. There wouldn’t have been any trouble, but then you left him there and took his bloody money.”

My first instinct is to say it wasn’t me, but I keep my mouth shut. 

Uncle Boeta shakes his head. “Johnny is inside. The man from the bridge is also there.” 

“I’m sorry, uncle Boeta,” I say. “Sorry about this whole mess. I’ll admit my part to the police, Johnny can’t go to jail on his own.” 

I walk into the reception area. John is sitting on a bench, still handcuffed. A scruffy looking man in a dirty T-shirt and jeans is talking to a police officer.

Johnny looks up at me and his face lights up. “David, my bra, you came!”

I nodded. “I couldn’t leave you go to jail on your own.”

Uncle Boeta walks in behind me. “It’s okay, David, Mr Jacobs there has withdrawn the charge against Johnny. I’ve paid back the money you took from him. You two are going to work and pay back every last cent to me.”

I look at Johnny in relief and we nod at uncle Boeta.

“Thanks uncle, I thought we were going to go to jail,” I say.

“Don’t thank me yet,” uncle Boeta says. “The deal is that Johnny and you spend the rest of the holiday doing community work, starting first thing on Monday at the soup kitchen. You’ll be sweeping streets when that’s done.”

Tessa and Vanessa walks in. “We’ll help when we’re not working,” Tessa says when she hears about the deal. Vanessa nods her head, relieved. “Thanks, uncle Boeta.”

Uncle Boeta turns to Johnny. “And you will have to wait to get your licence and your own car before you get behind the wheel again.” 

He nods to the police officer. “Thank you, captain, Mr Jacobs.”

Mr Jacobs smiles, looking a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

The officer walks over and unlocks Johnny’s handcuffs. “Next time you’re spending the night in the cells,” he says in a stern voice looking at Johnny and me.

I nod, my heart in my throat.

When we walk out of the building, the sun is already high above the horizon. I’ve never been so glad to see blue sky again. From now on, I’m going to drink less and more carefully. In January, we’re all leaving for UWC, we can’t play games with our future.

Tell us: Have you ever made a big mistake? What did you do to fix it?