Cheryl Ntumy - Unravelled

“Rakwena?” I climb into the passenger seat and put my hands over his. “Ow! You’re burning up!”

He raises his head and grimaces. “It’s just a headache. It happens sometimes, when my girlfriend won’t listen to reason.” He shakes off my hands and starts the engine.

I roll my eyes, annoyed. “Are we still having this argument? I’m fine, as you can see. They didn’t kill me. Not for lack of trying,” I add wryly.

“What?” He stares at me in horror.

I reach over to buckle my seatbelt. “I told Spencer to leave Kelly alone and he lost it. Called me a bitch. Can you believe that? Then they all got up and left. Didn’t want to make a scene, I guess. But now I know for sure they’re gifted, and that Spencer is trouble. I have to find out more.”

The car jerks forward. “Damn it, Connie!”

“Sorry, but I’m not dropping this.”

He doesn’t say another word, but his jaw is still twitching and his knuckles still give off the occasional spark. I glance out of the window, and my heart stops. The Cresta Crew are standing in front of a white family minivan, watching us. Even when we’re out of sight, I get the feeling they’re still watching through a different set of eyes. Eyes that see things that I can’t. Eyes that see around corners, through walls…across borders. Eyes that led them here, to us.

It’s a crazy thought, and I don’t know where it came from. Those boys didn’t come here for me or Rakwena – why would they? I try to focus on the road, on keeping an eye on Rakwena’s fading sparks, but thoughts are resilient. Once the seed is planted, it just sits there quietly in the dark and grows.

Chapter Four

The weekend sneaks up on me. I’m surprised how quickly time has passed. I’ve barely seen my father all week, and my grandfather is still away. I spend Friday afternoon watching Lebz blow her father’s money on make-up and magazines.

“I need help,” I announce.

“Man trouble?” She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes. But not the man you’re thinking of. Dad and Ntatemogolo.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment is palpable. I almost laugh; I’ve deprived her of the joy of giving me relationship advice. “I thought we agreed that a peace treaty is impossible.”

“I don’t need them to make peace.” I pick up a jar of body butter and sniff it. “I just need them to work together on the Salinger project.”

“Isn’t your dad getting a research assistant?” Lebz tosses several bottles of nail polish into her rapidly filling shopping basket.

“Yes, but he’s supposed to work with an expert. He’ll end up getting someone else, and that would be a wasted opportunity. Don’t you see? This is the hand of fate at work – a perfect chance for them to finally learn to work together!”

Lebz looks dubious. “How are you going to get them to do it?”

“That’s where the help comes in,” I sigh.

“Oh, I have an idea!” she cries suddenly. “Pretend you’re going to live with Rakwena if they don’t make peace. Rita got Papa to let her go to Jamaica by threatening to move out. She cried, said he’s never home, and accused him of loving me more.”

I’m not surprised by her big sister’s antics – when people use the term “capable of anything” they mean Rita. “And how does a trip to Jamaica prove that he loves her?”

Lebz shrugs. “You know Rita – she could convince a pastor to rob a bank.”

I shake my head, grateful to be an only child. “Well, I’m not stooping to emotional blackmail. Besides, Dad would never buy it. Me, moving in with a boy?”

Lebz looks at me, her expression somewhat pitying. “You’re right. That’s not convincing at all.” She puts on a thoughtful expression and falls silent for some time.

It’s at times like this, when she’s quiet and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head, that I find it most difficult not to read her thoughts. I have to make a special effort to distract myself so I don’t break the promise I made to her and Wiki. I’m only allowed to invade their privacy in an emergency. I thought learning to get into people’s heads was hard, but learning to stay out is even harder.

“OK, here’s another idea,” she says finally. “Tell them the truth.”

I stare at her blankly. “The truth?”

“Yes! How much you hate being stuck in the middle. And mention your mother.”

I wince. “Ooh, that’s a low blow.”

“Sometimes you have to be cruel,” she replies firmly. “Do you think your mother would be happy about the way things are? If she were alive, they would be making more of an effort. And that’s not fair. They should be willing to make an effort for you, too.”

Hmm. The girl makes a good point. If Ntatemogolo had been around immediately after my mother died, things might have been different. Now that I’m a teenager they think I can handle their animosity. I can, but I shouldn’t have to.

I give Lebz’s arm an appreciative pat. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“The first session’s free,” she jokes. “Hey, I’m hungry. You want some snacks?”

“Yes, please.”

On the way to the till we pick up some chips and drinks. While standing in line, I notice a gorgeous couple walking past the shop, holding hands and gazing hungrily at each other.

I poke Lebz in the ribs to make her turn. “Kencer!”

Her eyes light up, then narrow. “Those two are joined at the lip.”

I raise my eyebrows. Usually Lebz would dash out to say hello, but it appears Spencer’s presence is enough to put her off. I glance at the couple as they move further away. Kelly looks fabulous in a bright blue maxi dress, but it seems to sag slightly on her frame. “Is it just me or has she lost weight?”

“It’s not just you,” Lebz assures me. “It’s funny – Kelly never diets. She doesn’t have to. She must be lovesick.”

A funny feeling comes over me. I remember how weak Kelly seemed at the party, and now she’s losing weight as well?

“I know what you said about Spencer’s temper, but Kelly seems happy,” Lebz continues.

There’s a sliver of doubt there. I latch onto it. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

She moves closer to the till with a sigh. “I just…I don’t know. Maybe hanging around you has made me paranoid.”

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