Xycobra Returns (Part 5)

I sighed. What was I going to do about Iola?

I reached school late. WHY?! I have said it before and I shall mention it again. I HATE BEING LATE. My freaky classmates (I don’t know why I keep dissing my class. I have only just recently realised that I am one of them…Don’t make me say it…Okay fine. Nerds) always stare at any latecomers and it’s creepy. I would not be late though, if it wasn’t for Uncle Sipho. As usual he has to scream at any other taxi driver on the road who have overloaded their vehicles, (To the point where people’s faces are smashed flat against the windows, mouths lopsided and everything) even though he’s clearly guilty of the act himself.

However, this morning everyone including the teachers seemed to be standing outside the school gates as if waiting for a member of The Royal Family to arrive. A pathway of students was formed and a red carpet would have been just perfect. I should have known. Xycobra was back. I rolled my eyes.

He arrived on the back of his jet-black motorcycle, riding through the row of students eagerly awaiting his presence. He carefully removed his helmet, then shook his dark hair in slow motion, taking advantage of the light breeze that day. He then smiled his perfect bright smile and in his deep voice uttered the words responsible for making every daft girl in my school swoon and blush.

“Hi beautiful people. I’m baaack,” he drawled. I was doing it again. The excessive eyeball-rolling. Was he serious? HOW WAS EVERYONE FINDING THIS AMUSING?! Okay. It was pretty amusing actually. I was stifling a loud outburst of laughter.

He then caught sight of me standing behind his motorcycle, away from all the other students, casually waiting for him to move.

“Uh, your Royal Highness, I humbly request your permission to move,” I said sarcastically.

He smiled his annoying perfect smile again. I rolled my eyes. (I really need to stop. People are going to think that’s like my trademark or something)

“Hey Sky,” he said softly. “Everyone, let’s hear it for my hero! That’s right, Sky is my HERO!” he shouted, making way for me. The air was immediately filled with cheering and clapping from every student present. Oh, the influence this boy had over everyone.

“Oh, save it for Oprah will you?” I said, pushing him out of the way. Iola immediately appeared at my side, her fists clenched.

“Oh, you just love the attention, don’t you, you damn B***H! Let’s see if you still love it once my fist is in your face!” she screamed, but her punch was stopped in mid-air by Xycobra.

“Whoa, whoa easy there, Iola. What the heck are you doing?” he said. Teachers were already pulling her away and scolding her angrily.

“I don’t need your help!” I lashed out at Xycobra. I stormed off angrily for no apparent reason, then dropped my school bag halfway, ruining the effect. How embarrassing.

3 hours later

“Sky, you’re a real gossip magnet, aren’t you?” Lectra and Pamper were giggling. I smiled. I couldn’t help being happy around them.

“You’re such a bad ass, getting on Iola’s bad si-” her words trailed off as the electricity in the building suddenly shut off.

“Darn Eskom!” was everyone’s immediate response. This is the part where I truly welcome you to South Africa, where power outages are as frequent as new fashion trends. All the time and everywhere. However, it was not Eskom’s fault this time.

“Somebody stole a pylon!”. That was the news going around.

“What!” Volta burst out laughing. “That’s insane, never mind impossible. I think SOMEONE would have noticed that!”

I burst out laughing too. That was a bit far fetched. But, in my beautiful country, I would not erase that theory, nor put it past anyone. The real story though, was that someone stole the bolts and nuts from the base of the pylon (Out of all places!) causing it to collapse from slight winds. THREE PYLONS DOWN. NO ELECTRICITY FOR THREE DAYS STRAIGHT TO MY SUBURB.

Hash tag, Survivor South Africa.

You can take away my lights. You can take away my heater. BUT HANDS OFF MY WIFI!!!

3 Hours later

I was eager to get home that day. I heard someone yelling my name just before I jumped into Uncle Sipho’s taxi. (‘Do they time this to purposely annoy Uncle Sipho?’ I wondered.)

It was Krayden.

“I’m so sorry for the other day man,” he said. “Yeah it was alcohol but that normally doesn’t happen. I really think someone laced it before I could notice,” he explained, looking down in shame. “Anyway, thanks for helping me home and telling my mom. She was worried sick,” he finished, tapping me lightly on the shoulder and then skipping off towards his transport.

Panic surged through my body like the surge that would take place when the electricity was restored to my community.

Copyright Aakifah Mahomed 9 June 2014

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A reminder that this story along with all its characters are fictional and are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real life people is merely coincidental.
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The new girl (Part 1)

“Your lunch! Don’t forget your lunch!” I heard my mum yelling as I jumped into Uncle Sipho’s taxi. No, not the type of cabs you see on TV. Not the fancy yellow one’s with fancy drivers. It’s South Africa. I’m talking about a minibus taxi. Yup, those crazy one’s that are most of the time packed with a gang load of people…I love it anyway. (Embracing the Ubuntu spirit)

I’m off to a semi-private school in Johannesburg and I’m dreading the “New Girl” scene. My name is Schitin (Pronounced Sky tin), by the way. Schitin Malang.

OMG I’m late. I hate being late, especially when you’re the new girl. It stinks!

We reached the school about ten minutes after the bell had rung. Great. Let me describe this beautiful scenery to you. It’s not perfect and I’m glad it’s not. Completely face-brick, with a few of the bricks falling out at some places, the two-floored building still stood strong. It’s South Africa. Naturally, the security has to be tight, so there’s more walls, barbed wire, electric fencing and gates than…than the actual school.

“Awehhhh my bruuuuu!” A crazy kid was screaming as he rushed off to greet his…uh…”Bru”.  Just then, a striking purple-haired girl nudged me. “Howzit, newbie. Better get to class,” she smirked. “Call me Lectra. Welcome to Eiobra High, your biggest nightmare. Enjoy” she winked an eye at me before taking a cool walk through the gates. (And then past the security guard, cameras, barbed wire etc.)

We don’t have a proper playground. Our playground consists of a grassy field (I would call it a veld. Oh come on, there’s grass growing over the supposed-to-be volleyball court) and something that looked like a netball court. A flyer blew into my face and it was like, I don’t know, destiny calling me. (Pretend that happened in slow motion and there’s angels singing in the background.) SOCCER TRY-OUTS!!! Lekker. The only problem was…there was no soccer field. Or was there something I was missing?!

6 hours later.

Nope nothing missing. The soccer try-outs were happening on the NETBALL FIELD. MY GOODNESS HOW CAN THIS EVEN BE POSSIBLE. The very same netball field that was built on a raised platform bordered by columns of bricks (obviously no longer intact. These kids of today…) I giggled. The coach was my drop-dead-gorgeous class teacher. She was wearing a full-length dress and stilettos. STILETTOS. Shoot…me…now. Ain’t nobody tell her this was a sports field…

A great day lay ahead.

Copyright Aakifah Mahomed 11 May 2014