Unravelled (19 page)

The tiny ribbon of unease has unfurled, spreading out into tendrils of panic.

“I can’t tell you the details,” he says softly, pre-empting me. “I’m not the only person involved. But from the first time I met your grandfather, he has been one side of the fence, and now he’s on the other, and the reasons he gave me were just…flimsy. Absurd. I’m not even sure they were true.”

My eyes widen. “Now you think he lied to you?”

“I don’t know! Maybe not on purpose, or maybe it’s some kind of test… I have no clue. Just keep your eyes open, OK? And try to find that anklet. I’m sorry to say this, but I trust the man who went away more than I trust the one who came back.”

I gulp. Thoughts dance around in my head, tripping over each other. Rakwena never confides in me about his relationship with my grandfather, though I know they have one. The fact that he voluntarily told me he sought Ntatemogolo out is a sign of how serious he is. He thinks something is wrong, and despite my reluctance to accept it, I think he might be right.

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” I promise. “I don’t know how I’m going to find out anything without tipping him off, but I’ll try.”

Rakwena looks relieved. My next sentence turns his relief to annoyance.

“By the way, I talked to the Cresta Crew.”

He flings his chicken down and leans back in his chair. “What the hell, Connie!”

“I had to! Anyway, they – ”

“I don’t care.” He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

“But – ”

“Can’t we spend one day together without fighting about this?” he pleads. “One day.”

I open my mouth to protest, then think better of it. I feel as though I can barely remember the last time we didn’t argue about the Cresta Crew. Right now we have a common concern – my grandfather – and we’re on the same side for a change.

I smile. “OK.” The drifters can wait a little while longer.

***

Dad stays home on Sunday. I make us breakfast and we eat together, something we haven’t done in ages.

“How’s the project going?” I ask between bites.

He sighs. “Not too badly, I suppose, all things considered.” He gives me a sly smile. “Having an assistant is a wonderful thing. Thank God Salinger made allowances in the budget, otherwise I’d have to field every phone call and answer every email myself.”

“That would be unthinkable,” I reply with mock severity, and he chuckles.

“Come on, love; I think I’ve earned the right to be a bit of a prima donna. I’ve been working like a fiend.”

I nod; he’s right. “And Ntatemogolo?”

Dad pauses. “Actually, I haven’t even spoken to him. He didn’t come to the first meeting and he hasn’t yet contributed a thing.”

I frown. That’s not like Ntatemogolo at all. “He’s probably really busy.”

“Hmm,” is Dad’s only reply.

I sense some tension, and after a few weeks of peace and quiet on the home front I really don’t want to get involved in their work. “You should give yourself a few days off,” I suggest. “Go out with friends or something.”

“Wish I could, but my friends are busier than I am,” he complains. His energy shifts a little, and I look up at him with a frown. Sure enough, his next question throws me off. “How’s Rakwena’s mother doing?”

I take a moment to wonder where this is going before I respond. “She’s fine. Why?”

“Oh, just asking.” He smiles innocently, but I know him too well to let it drop.

For months after Rakwena and I got close, Dad harboured a not-so secret hope that Rakwena would move to South Africa to be with his mother. Since then he seems to have warmed to Rakwena.

He doesn’t seem anxious; he seems sort of wistful. I keep my distance, not wanting to intrude on his thoughts, but his introspective energy is pervasive and after a moment I start to feel sad.

“I wish I could have met her, that’s all,” he says, surprising me further. “I think, perhaps, if things were different…”

I experience a sharp pang of longing. He’s thinking of my mother. She’s the only one who makes him feel this way. I start to get up; witnessing these private memories and emotions makes me feel unforgivably voyeuristic. Then he speaks again, and I change my mind.

“Sometimes I wonder what your mother would think of Rakwena.” He grins. “I can imagine her trying to have long, philosophical chats with him.”

The image brings a smile to my lips.

“I think she’d approve,” he says, and then laughs. “I’m not a fan of that tattoo, but your mother wouldn’t have minded.” He rolls his eyes. “I suppose that’s where you get the rebellious streak from.”

“Rebellious?” I cry, indignant. “Me?”

“Sometimes.”

“Only for important things.”

He laughs again. “So, what’s the plan for today? Are you going out?”

I was planning to go over to Rakwena’s, but I think I should take advantage of Dad’s free time. When was the last time we spent a whole day together, with neither of us working or sleeping? Easter, I think. Far too long. Besides, both of us have been preoccupied lately and we could use a day of relaxation to get our minds off things.

“Let’s go to the golf club,” I suggest. The devil inside me shrieks with rage, but the angel smiles proudly.

Dad raises an eyebrow. “You hate golf.”

“True.”

“You’re also terrible at it.”

I scowl. “Also true. But you like it and you’re always offering to teach me, so today’s as good a day as any. We can play for a while, have lunch together, and then maybe we can go watch a movie. There’s some serious film on – one of those dreary award-winning things you like.”

He stifles a mock gasp. “But it won’t have Rachel Whatshername in it! How will you survive?”

I heave a forlorn sigh. “I’m going to lean on you for support.”

“I’ve got your back,” he promises, and the phrase sounds so strange coming out of his mouth that I have to laugh.

“Did I say it wrong?” he asks, with a sheepish grin.

“You did good, Dad. Now, come on! We have a big day ahead.” I get to my feet and reach across the table for his plate.

“Connie.”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. This is a good idea – exactly what I need.”

I smile. “I knew that. I’m psychic, remember?”

He cringes. “Connie!”

“Just kidding.” I stack the dishes and head for the kitchen, chuckling.

***

“And you’re sure they’re not dangerous?”

I sigh, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “What have I been saying for the last ten minutes?”

“I know you said they were nice, but…” Lebz wrinkles her nose. “They’re still inkolosi.”

It’s Monday and we’re on our way to school. We have a test today that I’m not even remotely prepared for. I make a mental note to study harder and spend less time worrying about Rakwena.

“Drifters. They really don’t like the word ‘inkolosi’.”

“Whatever. I’ll never forget what Spencer did to Kelly.”

“Why not? Kelly seems to have forgotten.”

Lebz glares at me, but she knows I’m right. By the end of last week Kelly was back to her usual self, flirting with boys and ignoring me in the corridors. Unfortunately, I can no longer make a snide remark about her without experiencing a little pang of guilt.

By the time we reach our bench, where Wiki is waiting, I’ve managed to win Lebz over – sort of. She still doesn’t trust the drifters, but she’s willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I’ve already given Lebz and Wiki the summarized version of the meeting, but in the few minutes before class I flesh it out to give them a better idea of the situation, and the role the drifters expect Rakwena to play.

“What did he say?” demands Lebz impatiently. “Has he agreed to meet them?”

I busy myself with my bag so I don’t have to answer.

Wiki lowers his book. “She hasn’t told him yet.”

“Of course she’s told him,” Lebz scoffs.

Wiki sighs. “Look at her face. That’s her guilty expression.”

I glare at Wiki, who raises his eyebrows as if to say it couldn’t be helped. “Fine! I haven’t told him.”

“Connie!” gaps Lebz in horror. “How can you waste time like this? What if Spencer goes after some other girl, or one of the others starts acting funny? Just ask Rakwena to zap them with his magic and fix them before they cause any more trouble!”

I hate it when Lebz talks about the gifted as if we’re characters in a cartoon. Zap them with his magic? Really?

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I tell her patiently. “They said it required a sacrifice.”

“So buy a chicken.” Lebz stares at me as if I’m refusing to give first aid to a dying child. “It’s creepy and disgusting, but if it will protect the girls of Gaborone then I’m behind it one hundred percent.”

Wiki clears his throat and closes his book, his attention now fully directed at us. “I don’t think it’s that kind of sacrifice,” he murmurs.

Lebz’s eyes widen in dismay. “You mean…human sacrifice?”

My choked laugh is drowned out by the shrill ring of the bell. Lebz has clearly been spending too much time with Kelly. Ouch – there’s that guilty pang again, damn it. “Nothing like that. I think they just meant he would have to give something up.”

“Either way, there’s no point sitting here and speculating,” says Wiki, getting to his feet. “You promised to pass the message on to Rakwena and let him make his decision. You should keep your word.”

I hate it when Wiki’s right.

***

I call Rakwena as I head out of the classroom at the start of Break, and ask if we can meet up after school. He’ll be at the university until around four, but tells me to wait for him at his place – Rre Sechaba will be there.

To my dismay, Kelly has decided to spend the better part of Break on our bench, alternating between chatting to Lebz and pretending to be interested in Wiki’s reading material. Beyond a cursory greeting, though, she and I hardly speak. She seems to have decided that it pays to hang out with people other than her ladies-in-waiting, just in case another wayward drifter should come along.

I’m not sure how I feel about this new state of affairs. Every heroine needs a nemesis in the story of her life, and Kelly’s been mine for ages. Now that she has decided to break the ice and acknowledge my existence from time to time, I’ll have to find someone new to disparage.

Well, I suppose there’s always Thuli. He’s been lying low lately, probably because it’s his final year and he’s too busy acing all his subjects to linger outside with the masses. Can’t say I miss him. What I saw in him to begin with is a mystery.

After school, Lebz and Wiki wish me luck and put me on a combi. I’m dreading the conversation that’s coming. During the ride, I tune out the other passengers and practise talking to Rakwena in my head.

“Remember the drifters I’ve been dying to meet? I finally got my wish!”

“You mean the drifters I despise and warned you to stay away from?”

“Yep, those ones. Nice guys, really. I went to their house. Alone.”

“&^$#@$%^!@@$%@**^!!!!”

“Now, Lizard, calm down. They just want to talk. You’re the only one who can save them from…um…well, something really bad.”

“@##%^&*%$@#^**@@$%!##$%$#!!$$^****!!!!”

“Lizard, you’re shooting blue sparks into the furniture. Lizard! Aaaarghhhhh!!!”

Whichever way I look at it, this is not going to be pretty. My mind tiptoes in the direction of the mysterious sacrifice, and I drag it back to safer waters. No need to dwell on unpleasant things.

The combi pulls into the bus rank. That was a short trip. This guy must have been driving way over the speed limit. I hop out and walk slowly towards the bridge and the Broadhurst combis. The premonition strikes right in the middle of my chest, making me gasp. Danger. A dark shadow, a raised voice, a flash of blue light. As the feeling fades, I start to panic.

By the time I stop in front of Rakwena’s gate, I’m so anxious I can barely think straight. I reach up to press the intercom, then realise that the gate is slightly ajar. I frown and reach over to push it; the gate slides smoothly open, which means it must be on manual. Rakwena is too security-conscious to leave it like this. My premonition was spot on – there’s trouble ahead.

I step into the yard and slide the gate shut behind me. There’s no sign of Rre Sechaba. I walk up to the front door, which is also ajar. I open my mouth to call out, but something stops me. There are sounds coming from the kitchen. Slowly and quietly, I tiptoe closer and come to a stop in the doorway.

There’s a man standing at the kitchen counter, and he’s not Rre Sechaba. He has an array of food in front of him. I watch him for a moment, too stunned to move or speak. There’s something strange about the way he shovels the food into his mouth, like a starved lion forced to feast on dry, withered grass. I can’t see his face, but his demeanour is focused, determined.

Suddenly he stops eating. He drops the food, snatches up a napkin and wipes his hands and mouth, then turns around to face me, all his senses on high alert. A slow smile spreads over an achingly familiar face.

“Rakwena?” I whisper. For a moment I’m thoroughly confused. He has Rakwena’s face, his eyes, his nose, his smile, even his perfectly cut hair. But something is missing. What is it? Something important. Ah, yes. The scar.

That’s when common sense returns and points out the many reasons this can’t possibly be Rakwena. He’s too slick, dressed in snug designer jeans, crisp shirt, stylish black loafers and a watch that could pay my school fees for a year. Rakwena would never be so ostentatious.

He smiles and I find myself doing the same like some star-struck idiot.

“Hello.” Wow. That voice could make a weaker girl dissolve into a puddle. “You must be Conyza.”

The way he says my name almost makes me swoon. He’s not Rakwena, I remind myself, but it’s so easy to be fooled by that face. “Um…I…yes,” I stammer pitifully.

He takes a few steps towards me. Help! Why the hell didn’t Rakwena tell me he had a brother? These are important details!

“I can see why he’s so besotted,” he goes on. “You’re extraordinary.”

I am? Rakwena’s besotted? Wait, who is this person, and why is he here? Where is Rre Sechaba? Is this real? Did I faint in front of the gate and slip into some bizarre dream?