At the garage, they all sit and converse while waiting for the newspaper to arrive at midnight, so they can see if they passed matric. Qhama and Sithandile are now sitting alone, and Qiqa is with her other friends.

Qhama: What’s up, Stha? You know you can—

Sithandile: Stha? Please don’t annoy me, wena. That is such a stupid nickname.

Qhama: Come on, Stha is the perfect nickname for you. Or should I say Sthandi?

Sithandile: (faking annoyance) Or you could call me Sithandile?

Qhama: (faking boredom) OK, Sithandile, talk to me.

Sithandile: About what?

Qhama: Anything, your father, the results, your family…

Sithandile: I don’t have much to say. I mean, I am a bit nervous about results, obviously. My father…I don’t have anything to say about him.

Qhama: Do you hate him?

Sithandile: Yes.

Qhama: Really?

Sithandile: Uh…no. Not really.

Qhama: Then why don’t you speak to him?

Sithandile: And say what?

Qhama: Anything. Tell him how you feel.

Sithandile: I cannot.

Qhama: Why?

Sithandile: Because…my father is a black man, Qhama. He doesn’t care about how I feel. And what makes me angrier is that everyone says I should speak to him as though he wants to speak to me.

Qhama: Doesn’t he?

Sithandile: He has a whole different family. A wife and kids. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t text. He just doesn’t bother reaching out, and he is the father. Why am I expected to be the one reaching out when he is the one who failed me as a parent? Look at me now, I am about to get my results and go to university. I am going to be a whole adult without him, which proves that I don’t need him.

Qhama: Wow.

Sithandile: What?

Qhama: Get your results and go to varsity, huh?

Sithandile: (smiling) Come on, just let me dream, OK?

Qhama: (laughing) I am joking. You are going to pass and go to university, but buddy, your father may be the adult here, but you are the one getting affected. He may be fine with not speaking to you, but you are not.

Sithandile: Why do you say so?

Qhama: You snap almost every time you speak about him. He makes you angry and it’s not healthy to carry that anger with you all the time.

Sithandile: OK ‘Dr. Phil’.

Qhama: (almost closing his eyes and moving his head in pride) What can I say, I was born for this.

Sithandile: (amused) Oh come on, it was a joke!

Qhama: I mean, I can just picture myself in my office, listening to people speak about all kinds of things while I jot down a few notes. In the end, taking my glasses off and putting my notebook down to say, “I think you need to face and deal with your childhood traumas because I can tell that—”

Sithandile: (laughing) Wow, you really don’t know how to take a joke, hey. But you would make a good therapist, my friend.

Qhama: (also laughing) I know I would.

Sithandile: Shoot, I think that is the truck with the papers, let us go to the line.

They quickly get up to stand in the line. Not long after, there are all kinds of screams from those in front of the line with papers in their hands. Qiqa is one of them. She comes running to her friends.

Qiqa: Sthandile! Qhama! I got two distinctions!!

(They all jump in excitement, hugging and holding hands.)

Sithandile: Well, done friend, I am so proud of you!!

Qhama: Here is to years of eating NSFAS money!

Qiqa: Wow, I actually did it, guys. I passed my matric!

Qhama: Yep, give us the paper so we can also look for our numbers.

Sithandile: Yho, guys, I am not ready. (She starts panicking while moving away from the crowd).

Qhama: You are ready, Sitha [enemy].

Sithandile: (smiling lightly) I thought we had settled the nickname issue, Qhama. (They sit on the grass). You go first, bro.

Qhama: (He carefully looks for his number. He finds it after a while.) Five distinctions, boy!!

Qiqa: Whaat? Aah, come here, boy!

Sithandile: Wow, congratulations! Ewe madoda, our future engineer!

Qhama: You got that right! Let me go tell the gents. (He runs to his male friends who are still in the line.)

Qiqa: Ah man, I cannot believe this is us. It is your turn now, Sithandile, look for your number.

Sithandile: (breathing heavily) I…I can’t.

Qiqa: Yes, you can. Breathe.

Sithandile: (hyperventilating) I can’t. What if I failed? What if I cannot go to university? What if I let my mother down? What if I let my sisters down? What if I—

Qiqa: Sithandile, breathe! Calm down, OK? Qhama! Qhama!

(He comes rushing.)

Qhama: What, what is happening? Sithandile calm down, what is wrong?

Sithandile: I can’t do this, Qhama! (now tearing up)

Qhama: (concerned) You can, Sithandile. We are right here with you. Look, Qiqa and I did well, so have a little faith in yourself too.

Sithandile: OK, OK. (She takes a deep breath.) Bring the paper. (She finds it after a while). Four distinctions.

Qhama: EEHHH!!! Whuuu! Well done!

Qiqa: Congratulations! See? We told you!

Sithandile: (disappointed) Thanks, guys.

Qiqa: What’s wrong now?

Sithandile: Nothing, I am happy.

Qhama: No, you are not. Speak up.

Sithandile: (bursting into tears) I didn’t get a distinction for agriculture. I…promised Sir that I…would get it.

Qiqa: Oh, I am so sorry. I am sorry.

Qhama: Nope, no way. Get up, Sithandile. (pulling her up) You did great. No, you did more than that, you outdid yourself. Getting 4 distinctions is something you should be proud of and right now we are going to celebrate that by shouting for joy. OK?

Sithandile: (wiping her tears, her mouth cracking into a smile) OK.

Qhama: Shout, “WE ARE THE WINNERS!”

Qiqa and Sithandile: No.

Sithandile: We are NOT shouting that.

Qhama: You guys are such a bore.

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