At school, Malebogo ignored me. I sat alone at lunch wondering where she was. I knew she’d eventually cool down and come and apologise, but in the meanwhile I was lonely.
“Hi.” Reginald sat down next to me. He opened his lunch box as if he intended to eat next to me. I looked at him. “You don’t mind, do you?” he said.
“I guess not. But eating with me might taint your image.”
“What do you mean?”
I was tired of all of this. Why did everyone pretend? As much as I hated Lorato, at least she was honest – she was rich and she didn’t want to spend time with poor kids. Everyone else pretended, just to get what they wanted. They were nice to us to get help with homework or because we were on the team together. But they’d never invite us scholarship kids to their big houses or introduce us to their parents. We all knew that, so why pretend?
I turned to Reginald, suddenly furious. “You know what I mean! Everyone knows what I mean. Why do we have to all play this stupid game? I’m poor and you’re rich. That’s how it is. It is all a big funny game for you people.”
“You people?” Reginald looked confused and hurt.
“Yes, you rich kids. You know you don’t really want to be friends with us. What is it for you? Some sort of experiment so you can learn how to be normal? Listen, I’m not interested. Okay?”
“It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought that…we’re friends.” His face looked hurt.
“I didn’t mind so much before. I could ignore all of the lies. But now things have changed. Your friend there is playing with Malebogo’s feelings. She thinks he really likes her, that she’s going to be his girlfriend. But we both know that’s not true. Tell him to leave her alone! And you can leave me alone too!”
I was upset, but I wouldn’t let any of them see me cry. I grabbed my stuff and marched off. I found the toilets empty and went into one of the stalls and cried quietly.
I was so tired of it all. I was tired of being always ashamed of who I was. Tired of never being able to trust anyone. I was just very tired. I wished in a way I’d never got the scholarship. I knew Eastend was a fantastic school and would open many doors for me, but I almost wished I was going to the government school in our neighbourhood, where I would never feel ashamed about my mother and my house. About my clothes. I would be proud of what I accomplished, what my mother had accomplished. I sat in the toilet and wondered if any of it was worth it. Worth feeling like this.
* * *
Tell us what you think: Is it better for Dikeledi to go to the posh private school or to the government school, if she feels so bad all of the time?