Mine. S.A Partridge
protractor set in my bag and start scratching at the wooden desk. Any sort of expectation only leads to disappointment. He doesn’t want to date me, so I shouldn’t want to date him either. I just need the idea to stay in my head and not leak out as soon as he looks at me.
Miss Rademeyer comes in late as usual, flustered like she’s just been for a run. I cover my carnage with my hands.
“Put your books away. We’re doing something fun today,” she says.
Since I haven’t unpacked my books anyway, I wait until the rustling has died down.
“Today we’re going to be starting an exciting project that you need to complete by the end of the term. You’re going to be researching the family trees of all the characters in Macbeth.”
You have got to be kidding me.
I lay my head down on the desk and sigh. Just what I need – more work. Never mind the recital that’s looming like the wide-open mouth of Galactus coming to swallow the world. Like any of these losers would know who Galactus is anyway. If he’s not in a movie, they wouldn’t know.
Miss Rademeyer starts rattling on about how to research a family tree. It all sounds like blah blah to me, like the teacher in those old Charlie Brown cartoons. I continue hacking into the desk. My artwork is taking the shape of a big X. I fill in the grooves with a black pen.
When the bell rings, I follow the rest of the class out and veer off towards the Music building, my own personal nightmare. Music is the only subject I really care about, but also the one I dread the most. I share the class with the most entitled little princesses ever born to this earth. They hate me. I don’t do my hair in fancy French braids or walk straight-backed like I’m being held up by scaffolding. I’m a slacker with a bad dye job and a skateboard. I read comic books and I don’t have any friends. They’ve been trying to get me to quit Music for years.
I wonder if they’re going to ignore me today or torment me?
When I enter the classroom they all pretend I don’t exist. That’s okay – it’s the lesser of the two evils. They don’t exist to me either. This is my alter-ego – all superheroes have them. Superheroes are all misunderstood losers too, until the world needs them. The difference is I wouldn’t even consider helping any of these guys if they got into trouble. People suck. I’d rather fly off to another planet and leave them all behind.
The Music room is padded and has hardwood floors and high ceilings. To think I used to love coming here, before everyone started showing their true colours. I open my instrument case and lift out my flute uncertainly. So far, so good. It’s only when I place my mouth against the lip plate that the giggling starts.
Practice is excruciating. Lucinda and I are supposed to be doing a Bach sonata together, and it couldn’t be going worse. She keeps grunting impatiently when I slip up.
“Sorry,” I say for the hundredth time. I have no idea how I’m supposed to get this right with her eyes boring into my back from her place behind the piano. She’s a classic mean girl. Her and her perfect girly-girl clique. I hate them all.
Time slows and when the piece is eventually finished, I’m prickly all over and my hands are shaking. At the end of the period, I pack up my case in silence. None of the Music nerds ever talk to me so when I hear my name, I jerk in fright.
“Kayla?”
Sebastian Brown. I gawp at him in surprise – he’s never spoken to me before. He’s one of the more serious guys in class. Ultra smart, ultra posh. He plays cello. He’s also totally hot.
I shuffle awkwardly and clutch my books tighter. “Hi.”
“Can we chat for a second?”
I swallow and look around the room, but everyone’s left. “Um, okay.”
Sebastian looks at his shoes, making his blond mop of hair fall into his face. He is ridiculously hot. My heart does a double cartwheel. What could he possibly want from me?
“This is harder than I thought it was going to be,” he says.
“What is? I’m confused.” Then it hits me. They’ve finally figured out a way to kick me out of Music, and they got him to tell me. My marks weren’t high enough. I’ll have to take Home Economics instead. My heart stands still.
He laughs and tries to hide it with his hand, but not before I catch sight of those killer dimples. It would be kind of adorable if the situation wasn’t so serious. My skin prickles with expectation. He looks up and his green eyes meet mine.
“I wanted to ask if you would go see a movie with me on Friday.”
“Oh.” My head starts to spin and all sorts of thoughts fight for my attention. I twirl the end of my ponytail nervously. “Did someone put you up to this?” The words blurt out of my mouth before I can take them back. Kayla, you dork.
He frowns and tilts his head. “No. Why would they?”
He looks genuinely taken aback. Maybe he really is asking me out.
“No reason. Um, sure. Okay. I guess. That would be great.”
“You don’t seem so keen.”
God, who uses words like “keen” anymore?
“I am,” I say way too quickly. “It’s just, this came out of nowhere.”
He scratches the top of his head and smiles. “Yeah, it kind of did, didn’t it? I’m sorry. I find you interesting. And pretty.”
What the …?
We stand awkwardly for a few more seconds. Then we both burst into nervous laughter. “I’d better go,” he says.
“Uh, okay. See you on Friday then.”
“Friday,” he repeats, grinning. He looks back before leaving. Guys always look back when they like you.
I stand staring at the empty doorway for a long time.
JEROME IS ALREADY home when I come through the door. He’s sitting on the couch eating Chipniks straight out of the packet. Some lame army show from the Eighties is on TV. It always seems to be repeats on SABC these days.
“Uh, what are you doing home?” I ask.
He looks up in surprise. Jerome works at a corporate in Wynberg. “Air conditioner on the third floor caught fire so they sent us all home.”
“Lucky you,” I say as I dump my bag on the floor and slip out of my shoes. I wish my school would catch fire. The thought produces a smile. One day …
“Where’s Lorenda?”
“Shops.” He shrugs and continues crunching loudly while he watches TV. I hover for a minute before heading to my room. Like he would even care that Sebastian Brown asked me out. Jerome has never really warmed to me since marrying Ma. Most of our interactions involve him getting cross about something or other. Neither of us have any warm, fuzzy feelings about each other.
I start going through my wardrobe. Nothing looks good enough for a date with Sebastian. He dates sophisticated girls. He probably wants to go see an art film or something with Colin Firth in it. I can’t wear jeans, but a short skirt seems tacky. I don’t have anything else. Why am I so bad at being a girl? I pull everything onto the floor and start going through each item one by one, creating a separate pile for clothes that might be okay. Everything is torn or grungy or just plain unwearable. I sort my clothes into three piles: “No”, “Maybe” and “Why haven’t I thrown this away yet?”
Why do I own so many pairs of Vans?
I feel Ma’s presence at the door before I hear her.
“What do you feel like for supper? I can fry us steak and chips if you’re in the mood.”
I hold up a red skirt and toss it on to the “No” pile. “Yeah, okay, Lorenda. Anything.”
“You