Page 64 - The Mending Season

did not know they existed but I wanted to have their friendship and be her best friend. So I pretended to dislike KB, and had all ofthem thinking that I was only her friend to collect information on her so they could know her secrets. KB, on the other hand, could not have cared less who else I spoke to. But I did want to seem classy - her favourite word - so I only spent time with the group when she went home. She went home much earlier than the rest ofus, who had to wait for the kombi that picked up chil­ dren from other schools as well. KB’s driver - a man employed solely for the purpose ofdriving her from one point to another - was in the driveway even before the final bell rang.I had not forgotten about the invitation to her birthday party. She spoke about it every day. One day at lunch time, she pulled out a notebook and started writing things down between taking bites of her sandwich. “Do you like chicken, steak or boerewors?” she asked me, without looking up.One day after school, we were all standing in the driveway waiting for the kombi. I would sometimes wait for Mmamane Malesedi with Veronica, and other times I would wait with the rest ofthe girls and then set offfor the taxi rank. It was still hot and humid, the first week ofFebruary. A few girls from different classes were playing tennis and some were in the swimming pool. Except for the sports teachers, most ofthe teachers had left.Tamz, whose father was a lawyer, said, “Did you hear that Mandela might be coming out this year? My dad thinks this is the year.”“It’ll never happen. They’ll never release him, man,” Veronica said.Trish pulled a bag ofchips out ofher schoolbag and passed it around. “Maybe when he comes out we won’t have to come to school. Maybe it’ll be a holiday!”Veronica frowned, “They would never make it a holiday. If they hear about it, they’ll probably tell us the day before that we’ll get suspended ifwe don’t come to school that day.”64