He stood beside me.
Only when he spoke, I realized he was there.
"Y... yes, Mr Love," I said, trying to get up from my chair.
He put his hand on my shoulder and motioned me to sit.
I looked up.
Was I in trouble?
"Do not look so worried, Mr Este'huizen." His face was searching.
His eyes softened.
I looked away.
Maybe he could read minds.
"I'm just worried about you. Is everything... okay?"
He said that a bit weird and his eyes seemed to look down.
Down there.
Oh!
"Yes. Yes, Mr Love," I said embarrassed.
"Very well. You may rest assured. Mr Green will not bother you again soon. He is provisionally suspended and...” he looked at Georgie.
Georgie pretended not to see.
"Well, he's suspended. That's all I can tell you. Good day."
He gave my shoulder a squeeze and left.
With one movement, the class rose.
"Goodbye, Mr Love."
"Farewell, you all. Behave." He gave me a last look and left the class.
Georgie trailing behind.
Suspended?
Was that good news or bad news?
All I knew was that Georgie was out of school.
In a way, I was responsible.
So, I would have to pay.
And hard.
Grrr.
v
It was short break.
I decided to stay in class.
Inside it was safer.
I was revising my tables.
After short break, it was Maths.
Mrs October was already busy writing the sums we had to do for today, on the board.
But tables were always first.
I was not alone in the classroom.
Andre Valentine and his friend, Gavin Jacobs, sat two desks in front of mine.
They were playing Uno.
At the desk, right as you entered the classroom, Samantha Williams was reading a story book.
Far left, next to André Valentine and Gavin Jacobs, was Natasha Jantjies and beside her was Simoné Davids.
My Simoné.
The two were playing with wool.
A finger game.
I wanted to look away but could not.
She was too breath-taking.
The rays of sunlight, from the window, made her brown hair look lighter.
Suddenly she looked at me.
Her eyes were gentle.
She also smiled that smile for me.
I quickly looked away.
It was probably written on my face that I had been watching her.
Very aware of myself, I kept fiddling with my collar and pretended to be hard at tables.
Outside I heard the bell ringing and kids started returning to class.
Carefully, I glanced in Simoné's direction.
She was scratching in her school bag.
I was relieved.
As the children entered class, they stood next to their desks.
The rest of us did the same.
Arms outstretched towards the open space.
Mrs October picked up her beating stick and went to stand next to Samantha Williams.
"Nine times six," she said and lifted her beating stick.
"Sixty-four," said Samantha Williams, and as the words left her mouth, the hard rod made contact with her hand. She screamed “Ouch” loudly and sat down.
"Four times eight."
"Thirty-two.”
This one I knew, but unfortunately it was not my turn to answer.
As Mrs October moved closer towards me, I tried my best to repeat the 12 times 12 tables in my head.
Towards the end, I always got confused.
And unfortunately there was no time to count, as André Valentine just found out.
The beating stick bent in Mrs October’s hand.
Ouch!
That was hard.
Suddenly it was my turn to answer.
Suddenly I felt like I was standing in front of the entire class.
The class quickly changed to a stage with thousands of people in the audience.
I became aware of my dirty, mud soiled clothes.
My broken lip started beating again.
Even the knob on my head felt swollen to the size of a cucumber and everybody could see it.
I was once again the monkey (no tricks) that was there to entertain the people.
More than anything, that moment, I just wanted to be alone.
Away from here.
With Anubis in our backyard, where there were no bullies, no Maths and certainly, no English.
“Twelve times twelve.”
I saw, in slow motion, how Mrs October’s tool of torture rose into the air.
Hung there for a brief moment.
This one I knew.
Just, I confused it with the one before that.
Was it one-hundred-and-forty-four?
Or one-hundred-and-thirty-two?
Darn!
Was it one-hundred-and-forty-two?
"One-hundred-and-forty-two," I said and realized I was wrong.
The beating stick confirmed it.
The girls giggled again, naturally.
I sat down and rubbed my hand.
Unconsciously, I looked in Simoné's direction.
Was surprised to see her watching me.
Her expression was that of pity.
Even with her smile on her face, I could tell.
I quickly looked away.
I did not want her to pity me.
vi
Break, I had to leave the classroom.
Mrs October did not like kids in the class while she was not there.
With reason.
Apparently, a while back, someone stole money from her purse.
So I heard.
I was on the porch, just in front of the class, in the shade.
It was hot.
The breeze, that lifted Simoné’s skirt this morning, was gone.
The girls did not play block any more.
Samantha Williams sat on the other end of the porch.
Her story book was closed on her lap.
She was still crying.
Poor thing.
She struggled with tables.
Just like me.
And she, like me, always got a taste of that torture stick.
Mrs October was merciless.
Fat One and Banana Face stood by the school hall.
They watched me intently.
I knew I was safe for now, because they would not bother me without Georgie.
Not during school.
Simoné and Natasha Jantjies were on the lawn.
With André Valentine and Gavin Jacobs.
They were all playing Take-two.
André Valentine kept eyeing Simoné over the top of his cards.
Who could blame him?
She was beautiful.
With her legs crossed, skirt tight against her body, hair over one of her shoulders, and that smile...
Again, my stomach felt funny.
As I could gather, Simoné fared poorly.
She picked up two cards the round before and now four.
Gavin Jacobs was finished first. He got up and sat behind Simoné.
Apparently tried to help, but I could see he had other intentions.
He put his head close to hers.
It almost looked like he was sniffing her hair.
I would.
Fat One and Banana Face were no longer by the school hall.
I could not see them anywhere on the school grounds.
Probably smoking in the restrooms again.
I wish Mr Love would catch them.
The Take-two game came to an end.
The girls didn’t want to play anymore.
André Vale
ntine looked disappointed.
More than Gavin Jacobs.
Gavin took a cricket ball from his school bag and persuaded André Valentine to toss the ball to and fro.
Natasha Jantjies played with her wool again.
Simoné ate a sandwich.
She took small bites.
She bit it all around the edge.
The slice gradually became round.
She looked up and, again, I was caught.
Ashamed, I looked down and put my head between my legs.
For a long time, I remained like that.
I heard someone approaching, but did not look up.
No one spoke to me since day one, so I had no reason to.
The person, however, just stood there.
I peeked under my knee, trying to see who it was.
Could only make out girl school shoes.
White socks, rolled to below the ankles.
Beautiful, delicate ankles.
Simoné's ankles.
I wanted to puke.
Shyly, I lifted my head and looked for her face.
She smiled that beautiful smile for me.
I could not help but smile too.
"One of these bright, sunny days, your eyes will pop out.”
Her voice was soft and velvety.
Soothing.
Like music.
"Wha... wha..." I swallowed my words.
Put my head between my legs again.
"I did not know you stutter."
Soft, velvety, but teasing.
"I… do… st…" I swallowed my words again.
She laughed.
Even that sounded beautiful.
"Sorry, I can’t hear-you.” She teased.
I remained quiet and kept my head between my legs.
"I'm Simoné."
"I... I know." This time it was easier.
"And you are... Selwyn?"
"Sherwin." I lifted my head.
She extended her hand to me.
"Pleased to meet you, Sherwynne."
I wanted to correct her, but decided against it.
The word sounded nice.
Reluctantly, I shook her hand.
Her fingers were slender and soft.
And just like that, she sat right next to me.
Like we have been friends for a long time.
Took out a sandwich from her lunchbox and offered it to me.
"Lovely French roast beef with mayonnaise."
Her smile broader than ever.
I took the sandwich.
"Thank you, Simoné."
She took out one for herself.
"Mmmm."
Her expression was that of "Go ahead. Take a bite.”
I bit into the sandwich.
The white bread was soft and did not hurt my tongue too much.
The wound was still very tender.
She smiled at me.
“Lovely, hey.”
"Very.” I replied honestly.
Roast beef with mayonnaise, on bread, was one of my absolute favourites.
And this French thingy was just awesomely delicious.
With white bread, even better.
My mom rarely bought white bread.
Brown bread is "cheaper".
I ate the sandwich slowly.
Did not want it to finish.
"I have lots more. Please, enjoy."
Maybe Simoné could read minds too.
Before I finished, she handed me another.
The slice of roast beef on this one, even thicker.
Yummy!
"Where do you stay, Sherwynne?"
"I... I stay in Observatory."
"Okay. I stay in Rondebosch."
The words left her mouth like soft piano notes.
"Are you a Boer?"
Her expression was curious.
"No ... I'm not," I replied.
"Then why is your hair and skin so white?"
This time, her expression was confused.
"My father was a Boer."
And my skin is not white, I wanted to say.
It is more brown.
So I wanted to convince myself.
"Oh?"
She seemed more confused.
I did not try to help her.
I rather took another bite of the sandwich.
André Valentine and Gavin Jacobs were watching us.
Fat One and Banana Face were back against the school hall wall.
Hawkeyed.
"So," cautiously and careful, "what are you then?"
"I am a Coloured."
"Oh?!"
Simoné's smile was gone.
"Why do you ask?" I wanted to help.
She had to smile again.
"You speak very funny for a Coloured."
Her words were cautious.
"And you do not look like one."
"I? Talk funny?"
I almost laughed.
"Very funny. Like the Whites on TV."
"Have you listened to you all?"
"What do you mean 'you all'?"
"All you Capetonians."
"What are you then?"
"I'm from Namibia."
As if she finally understood, the smile played across her face again.
"Okay. You are from the desert."
"Yes," I said annoyed.
There was more to Namibia than the "desert".
"So, desert Coloureds," that smile that hit you for a homerun, "are then Whites who spent too much time in the sun?”
Desert Coloureds?
Whites?
In the sun?
The laughter bubbled from deep within my stomach up my throat and burst through both my nose and mouth.
I fell on my side.
Could not stop myself.
Ouch!
My broken lip tore open again.
But it was not enough to stop me from laughing.
If I had been chewing on the bread, I would have choked.
Through the tears, I could see that Simoné wanted to laugh as well.
She must have realized how funny and silly her assessment was.
Soon her laugh dwarfed mine.
I tried to stop.
Soon found I could.
Her laugh was beautiful.
Contagious.
I watched her.
Took in each note.
The sound of her laughter was like it was coming from a big empty vessel.
Samantha Williams started laughing.
Gavin Jacobs, and shortly after him, André Valentine too.
Fat One and Banana Face stood smiling.
It was like something radiated from Simoné and it affected everyone in her vicinity.
She realized I was watching her.
Slowly she began to laugh less.
Softer.
The beautiful end of a moving piece of music.
Ended with just one note.
Her smile.
I smiled back.
The rest watched.
vii
2009
I never threw away the piece of paper with Simoné’s number on it.
Maybe I should call her.
Maybe she can distract my thoughts.
Do not.
She can never find out.
Rather not.
I had to forget about Simoné.
Leave the past where it belongs.
In a time when I was still innocent.
Before...
Let it be, Sherwin.
That’s in the past and nobody needs to know.
No.
Forget Simoné.
I clenched the piece of paper in my fist and threw it in the trashcan.
End of Chapter 2
I miss you
I miss you, ‘cause I’m so fond of you
i
2009
"What are you going to order?"
"I don’t know. It all looks so delicious. You?"
<
br /> "I feel like a little bit of everything. The Chinese especially. Their sweet-and-sour pork is divine. "
Even in the dream I hear the word "divine" as if pronounced letter by letter.
Her voice thin and high.
Her eyes like those of an excited, naughty child.
"I know I shouldn’t eat so much, but ... uhm uhm uhm uhm uhm!"
With the last "uhm" she smacks her lips together.
"My mouth is watering!"
"Why not order?"
"Oh, I wish I could."
Her eyes immediately disappointed.
Her voice softer, almost whispering.
The tone as if she is actually asking a question.
"It will be on me.”
Excited, naughty child in her eyes again.
She rubs her hands together and pulls it to her chest.
Her whole body’s excited.
"Really, Sher?"
Not really a question.
Actually more a “thank you”.
Even in the dream she could not say the word.
"Uhm uhm uhm uhm uhm!"
Satisfied.
Her eyes closed.
"Ooooooh, it's finger lickin’ good! You want a bite?"
Her eyes never leave mine.
As if she wants me to enjoy it just as much as she does.
Truth is, I do not like sweet and sour stuff.
"Mmmmmm, delicious.” I lied.
And even in my dream, I lie convincingly.
Only for her.
***
With the same empty feeling of my dream, I wake up.
Headache.
Another night gone.
Another day to survive.
Another day without you.
Another day with just you in mind.
I'm sick.
My headache feels worse.
Can you not leave me alone?
Why can’t I just let you go?
Like you tossed me aside.
Like a dirty rag.
Puked out by a dog.
Why can’t I hurt you?
Like you hurt me?
Headache worse.
Doof doof.
Doof doof.
Doof doof doof.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Doof doof.
Doof doof.
Doof doof doof doof.
Doof doof.
ii
1990
Today is the last day of the school year.
End of my first year at this damn school.
If I pass, I am also done with Standard two.
But I had my doubts.
I already knew I failed Maths.
Health Science too.
I was not too sure about English.
The spelling words were not so bad.
Mr Love did that with us. He basically pronounced each word letter for letter.
You had to be very stupid to get the words wrong.
Mr Love.
Only other good thing I encountered at this school.
The other good thing?
Yes.
Simoné.
The class was almost empty. Nobody was very eager to receive their reports. Those who came were those who performed well.
Janine Adams (she could still see with the eye), Natasha Jantjies, Gavin Jacobs and Simoné Davids.
These were the brainiacs in our class.
The others who came were the ones that did not do so well - or shall I say, who knew they were failing.
Yours truly, too.
The second group was known for fixing their reports. And they got away with it too. Till the principal - Mr Love – notified their parents at the beginning of the next term.