“I’m sorry. I can’t enrol you here,” said Njuli as he lowered his head to obtain a better look at the girl.

The girl remained silent.

“Annika, our school is the best in this region that has its own protocols and uses special policies and procedures to enrol orphans like you.” He justified himself. “I’m sorry. But let me call the Police and see how best we can help you, alright?”

But Annika sprinted towards the exit.

“Hey! Wait,” Njuli called back, flashing the envelope in the air: “You forgot the envelope and the letter!”

Too late, Annika disappeared from sight. Then the exit door slammed shut and compressed air hit Njuli in the face. He took a deep breath and put the letter back in the envelope. Together with addiction, he liked to look at his wristwatch, so he checked his wrist to calculate how much time that strange Annika had consumed from him.

“What?” he probed himself, unable to believe his eyes (the gold watch he bought at a Rolex store had gone missing from his wrist).

His heart raced, but luckily for him, it never left his rib cage. He pinned the loss of his wristwatch on Annika, hence, he attempted to run after her, but the sun rays outside irritated his bald head, so he went back to the office to collect his cell phone, not to put on his hat; calling the Police became his first priority.

“What?” Njuli was suspicious of his desk: the iPhone X he bought at an electronics store in Cape Town went missing from his desk. His heart continued to race.

He looked around the room in despondency, shaking as if there was an earthquake on the ground. He raced in the second floor senior class, form 6, where the students’ noises were persistent, but when they saw him in front of the whiteboard, they closed their spoilt mouths.

“Hey! I want boys to find this particular girl who stole my phone and watch right now!” Njuli shouted at them.

The head-boy happened to be in that class; he reflexively stood up; his maiden name was Asante, teacher’s favourite, and the handsome yellow bone, who bragged about his gym to the boys without talking, and the girls were often gossiping about his muscular body. He was the only student with a blue necktie on despite the hot weather. Perhaps he was a gentleman come rain or shine.

When he stepped forward, a dozen of girls murmured admiringly at him while boys relaxed their egos.

“He’s the only one!?” Njuli seemed frustrated that only one of his 26 students in this class volunteered to help. He gritted his tobacco affected teeth to show them he was serious.

“Thanda, Ted, Zack, please step forward,” Asante called to the boys, whom he believed were energetic and brave. One of them was his disciple. They came in front. They loved to play and run, especially when chasing girls. This should be an exciting job for them.

Njuli wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief, with a relief. “Thank you very much!” he said to the boys.

“Sir, which direction is the thief heading?” Asante asked politely.

“Behind my office, south!” Njuli clarified. “She has long white braids and is wearing a dirty white dress and her shoes are not on.”

“Okay, sir,” Asante’s voice deepened.

“She’s very beautiful, so be careful; she might use her beauty to trick you,” Njuli added a warning.

The four boys nodded and set out. They knew the maps well and knew every nook and cranny of the school.