Pete leaned his back against the red-brick façade of the Eating House. It was cold in the shade, and he zipped his green Adidas sweater up to his neck. He checked the time: it was only twenty past two.
His parents had barely closed the bedroom door for their Sunday nap before he was out of the house. He couldn’t wait any longer, but he had only got as far as the Eating House. He couldn’t force himself to go to the shop on his own, so he waited.
It was still twenty past two.
After an eternity – but according to his watch, only five minutes later – a strongly built black guy jogged in his direction. He wore a green T-shirt, the same colour as Pete’s sweater, and his usual combination of safari-suit shorts and bare feet.
Pete stepped out of the shadows and Petrus’s face lit up.
“Aren’t you freezing?” Pete asked, but Petrus was so happy to see him he didn’t answer. He stuck out his right hand and held his elbow with his left. They shook hands and Petrus made numerous clicking sounds with his tongue before he spoke.
“Eish, we were worried, we thought ... we didn’t know what to think.”
A different kind of guilt flowed through Pete. Before him was someone who was just glad to see him, no questions asked, no blame, nothing, just pure joy to see him, and it made him feel guiltier than ever before.
They started walking. “Sarita is going to be so happy,” Petrus said. “She—” He stopped abruptly, tugged his ear and walked ahead of Pete.
“She what?” Pete asked when he caught up with him.
“She will be mad if I tell you.”
“Well, you have to tell me now. Is she okay?”
“Eish, that man, Rudie—”
“Don’t tell me, please, please don’t tell me he ...” Pete put his hand on Petrus’s shoulder to stop him from walking away.
“No, but he came into her shop when her dad went out and he slapped her, told her things ... bad things. Luckily, her mom heard her scream, so he didn’t do more.”
“Crap! I mean, I’m glad he didn’t do more, but hell, what he did was bad enough. Is she okay?”
“Mmm ... I think so. She is strong, Pete, very strong, but this man, eish. It is too much, even for a strong one.”
“I had nightmares about this. You know, that he would come back to finish what he started, but I never thought he would actually do it. To waltz into their shop in the middle of the day? This guy thinks he’s untouchable,” Pete said.
“He is.” Petrus sighed. “People on our farm told me he killed one of his workers and the police did nothing. He tried to kill us, and he’s attacked Sarita twice, and who knows how many others there are?”
“Didn’t Sarita’s parents go to the police?” Pete asked.
“No, he told them he was friends with the police, and apparently Sarita’s dad hates them anyway. He doesn’t trust them; he says they only work for the whites.”
“But they have to tell the police. This was an attack right here in the middle of town – they have to.”
“We didn’t,” Petrus said.
“That was different,” Pete said.
“The fear is the same.”
“Crap,” Pete said again and paused under the large Naidoo and Sons sign. “There must be something we can do? He is like this human wrecking ball, swinging freely, smashing people to pieces. We must do something.”
“Do you want to go to the police?” Petrus asked.
“Yes. But what do I say to them? I’ll probably end up in more trouble than him because I didn’t come forward earlier. And it will be his word against mine, a sixteen-year-old against an adult. Even if you testified as well, it’s just another sixteen-year-old, and if Sarita’s dad is right, perhaps they won’t even listen to you.”
Petrus looked up at the shop sign. “I think I might be a little bit too dark to listen to.”
“Maybe,” Pete stood next to him and stared at the bold letters in blue, “but we have to do something to protect her.”
“That man ... eish, I will necklace him. I am not violent, but I don’t think I would be able to stop myself.”
“And I will be right next to you with the matches,” Pete said.
“Hey! Are you going to stand outside all day?” Sarita shouted. She was standing in the alleyway outside her dad’s shop. Her wide, shiny-black trousers flapped in the gusty breeze, and she stood, hands on hips, in a rather dismal attempt to look threatening.
She turned back to the shop before they reached her and waited for them behind the open door. Once they had walked into the dark interior, she shut the door behind them.
The shop was cold, and a very sweet scent hung in the air like a mist. Pete’s eyes automatically sought out Sarita, barely noticing anything else. Her smile still carved perfectly into her dimples, the rogue strand of hair still dangled on the side of her face, and her eyes were still a mirage. But she was even more beautiful than before, as if she were a sculpture and the artist had been working tirelessly to polish every curve into a flawless masterpiece. He wanted to take a knife and break the blade off in Rudie’s heart. Let him bleed to death, slowly, in excruciating pain, with Pete watching, sipping a Coke.
“Petrus, you told him!” Sarita’s smile was suddenly swallowed by a tide of sadness. Pete realised his face must have betrayed him, and Petrus.
“I—” Petrus tugged on his ear, his eyes bulging.
“It’s my fault, I forced him to tell me,” Pete interjected.
“I didn’t want—” Sarita started but was silenced when Pete flung his arms around her. He held her for a few seconds. She was soft, and it felt like she was melting against him, so he held her tighter.
“I’m so sorry, Sarita. I will kill that man, I tell you, I will kill him.”
“We will kill him,” Petrus added, stepping closer and putting his hand on Sarita’s shoulder.
Sarita pulled away, wiped some tears from her eyes and walked around the counter where she took a tissue and blew her nose.
“You will do no such thing.” Her voice was thick. “He is not worth it, and you are too precious to me. I don’t want you to even joke about it, okay?”
Neither Pete nor Petrus responded. They looked on in silence as Sarita used the tissue to wipe away her sadness.
“I’m serious. Please don’t ever do something stupid. I have to believe, or we have to believe, that good will triumph over evil. We cannot battle evil with evil because then evil is guaranteed success. We have to give good a chance.” She blew her nose again.
“But we have to do something. This guy is roaming free like a leopard among sheep, and no one is stopping him,” Pete said.
“What if there are others?” Petrus added.
“Then, my dear friends, we need to come up with a plan. But killing him is not that plan, it can never be. There must be another way, a good way.”
“The police?” Pete asked.
“Probably. I don’t know. My dad says they will find a way to jail us instead of him because we’re not white. So, my dad will never let me take this to them, and even if you did, he wouldn’t allow me to testify or make a statement. I think he’d much rather take me into hiding in Swaziland.”
“Eish, so what do we do?” Petrus dropped his head on his hand and stared at the floor.
“I don’t know, Petrus, but when I’m around you guys, I feel safe, I feel free. So right now, until we come up with a plan, that is what I’m going to hold on to.” She stepped out from behind the counter and wiped her hand over her face as if trying to repel the sadness. “Did I say how good it was to have you back here, Pete?” she said. “A triangle is only a triangle when it has three parts.” Pete wondered if it was possible to drown in someone’s eyes. “We missed you. Without you here, we had no one to educate us about jaffles and rugby, or to complain about their school’s ridiculous hair rules. We thought perhaps you married that dream girl of yours and left Dannhauser.” Her words made Petrus giggle.
“Ja, now there is something that is not going to happen,” Pete said in one long sigh.
“Let me get the two of you Cokes, and then you can tell us all about your girl.” Sarita smiled at Pete and turned away to fetch the drinks. Her movement reminded Pete of the flow of the Tugela River, soothing, gentle. An overwhelming warmth gushed deep inside him as if a cavity he did not know about was suddenly being filled, and it kept the cold out.
Next to him, Petrus was smiling. He knew that both of them were in some way, perhaps not the same way, completely spellbound by her. He wondered what Petrus was thinking. Did he have a crush on her, did he feel brotherly love, or did he feel what Pete felt, something he could not yet describe? A ball of bright but fuzzy colours, spinning in different directions simultaneously, just out of reach, just too far away to see properly, to understand or touch. Then, in Petrus’s jet-black eyes, a tiny figure appeared in the distance, a figure carrying two Cokes, a figure whose smile could be seen even on that small scale, and Petrus didn’t even know he was looking at him. He knew then: Petrus was also trying to figure out that bright, fuzzy ball.
She placed the two Cokes on the side of the pool table and Pete observed Sarita as she and Petrus shared a joke. Their shadows seemed to be laughing along with them in the murky light. The world slowed down and Pete swallowed hard. His mind was filled with a giant egg. A crack shot down its centre, and, in no time, an idea stuck its beak through the crack. Its tiny head followed, and then, lo and behold, it winked at him. There was no stopping his smile.