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“NERVOUS, SAMANTHA?” asked Mr. Steadman.
He met his daughter’s dark grey eyes in the rear-view mirror and gave her a reassuring smile as he tugged on the steering wheel of their car.
Next to Samantha, Daniel jerked his head to indicate the view through the rear window. “Cheer up, sis, it looks like you’re going to be really popular before you even get there,” he said with a grin.
Samantha turned and peered over her shoulder through the back window. Immediately behind them was a sleek, grey German sedan behind which a line of cars was backing up as they bumped and lurched along the narrow, mountain road.
“The accelerator is the pedal on the right, Dad,” Daniel said.
Sitting up front, their oldest brother James was plugged into his phone, nodding in time to the music which filled his head.
Mr. Steadman pushed up the spectacles which were forever sliding down his nose. “You’re starting high school, Sam. It’s a big day — perfectly normal to be a little nervous.”
“Mmmm,” said Samantha.
She felt more than “a little nervous”. She felt sick to her stomach, though how much of this was due to nerves and how much to her father’s slow and jerky driving on the twisting roads, she could not have said. Although it was still early, the January sun was already making the day uncomfortably hot. Imagining her breakfast swirling around in her stomach, the soggy cornflakes floating like sad, limp boats on a bubbling lake of milk curdled by orange juice, she felt queasy. What if she threw up and had to make her entrance splattered in sick?
“Granted, there’ll be lots of strange faces, and a new set of teachers, but that’s nothing to worry about,” Mr. Steadman said.
Samantha glanced backwards again and began to twist a strand of her long hair around a finger. Through the dust coating the rear window, the snake of cars following them had lengthened. Every so often, the vehicle immediately behind would snarl impatiently alongside to try overtake, only to fall back at a blind rise or sharp corner.
Her father swerved suddenly to avoid a goat which had wandered down the steep grass embankment and into the road. One of its horns pointed forwards, while the other curled backwards, and its tufted tail twitched while it stared stupidly at them with its mad, blank eyes.
Closing her own eyes at the squeal of brakes behind them, Samantha said, “Perhaps we should pull over, and let the other cars pass.”
“What other cars?” Mr. Steadman asked, then peered into the rear-view mirror. “Oh. Well, Sam, that’s no way to approach this new phase of your life. Pulling over to allow others to pass, indeed! Where would you be if you took that tack in your academics? Certainly not the recipient of the Clifford House full scholarship award! No, no, there’s to be no ‘pulling over’ for others from now on, my dear — you need to keep your marks up if you want to keep the scholarship. That shouldn’t be too difficult for a clever girl like you. Although, of course, there will be a whole host of new subjects and a real step-up in the standard,” he said. “Not to mention new school routines and customs, and new buildings and grounds.”
Alongside Samantha, Dan was laughingly counting off all the new things on his fingers.
“Dad, you’re not helping!” Samantha snapped, giving Dan a dig with her elbow.
She sighed with relief as they reached the imposing wrought-iron gates which marked the entrance to the school grounds. The sign read: Clifford House, Private School for Girls.
As they drove down the long driveway lined with borders of blazing red and yellow cannas, Samantha caught her first sight of the school. It was a large, slate-roofed sandstone building, flanked by two enormous oak trees. A set of shallow steps led up to the arched entrance.
The Steadman car shuddered to a halt in the parking lot to the side of the main building, while the vehicles which had been trailing in their wake eased themselves quietly and smoothly into parking bays alongside and disgorged their occupants. Samantha climbed out, stretched, and looked around.
A pretty girl dressed all in pink and with long blonde hair falling over her shoulders stood beside the large car that had been immediately behind theirs, talking loudly on her phone.
“But where are you, Kitty? I don’t see you anywhere!”
Samantha’s tentative smile faded as the girl continued, “No, we’ve just arrived. We were stuck for ages and ages behind the slowest driver on the planet. Honestly, it was like being behind an ox-wagon!”
The blonde girl caught sight of the Steadmans, and the scathing gaze of her ice-blue eyes travelled up from Samantha’s sneakers and jeans, to the top of her sun-streaked, sandy brown hair, before shifting to Mr. Steadman, who was unloading the mismatched collection of bags from their dust-coated car.
“A girl just got of the ox-wagon. New girl. Hysterical — you should see it!” she said. “Hmm? ... Where? ... Kitty!” she screeched, and ran across the parking lot to another girl, who was also holding a phone.
Feeling her face grow hot, Samantha lifted her chin and turned to the girl getting out of the car on the other side of theirs.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Samantha Steadman, grade eight.”
“Hi,” said the girl, with a friendly smile. “I’m also in grade eight. I’m Nomusa Gule”. She was a thin girl, with large brown eyes. “Are you new? I don’t remember you from last year,” Nomusa asked.
“I was at Balgowan Primary in Howick last year.”
“I’ve been here since grade five. I can show you around later, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
“And this is my father and mother,” Nomusa said.
Samantha and her father exchanged introductions with the expensively-suited man and the elegant, aristocratic-looking woman standing beside him.
“Not the Justice Gule, Member of Parliament?” Mr. Steadman asked.
“One and the same,” Mr. Gule said in a deep voice. “Come along, Nomusa.”
Nomusa waved goodbye to Samantha as her father shepherded her towards the grand entrance of the school.
“Mmm-mmmm. Not too shabby,” said Daniel, looking towards where two girls were climbing out of an enormous gold BMW parked right next to the main entrance.
“You and your cars!” Mr. Steadman said fondly. “You’d better wait here, boys, there’s sure to be some paperwork to complete before I can drive you two on to Clifford Heights.”
James nodded and Daniel cast another admiring glance in the direction of the car. All around them were girls saying goodbye to their parents and getting last-minute instructions.
Mr. Steadman gave Samantha a quick hug. “You’ll be fine, my dear. Your mother would’ve been so proud. Work hard and call regularly.”
With a last kiss on her forehead, he ambled off in the direction of the entrance, muttering something about finding the office.
Samantha pointed at her luggage and gave her brothers an exasperated look. “Guys, please help.”
James scooped up the heaviest suitcase and, grabbing the rest of the bags, Samantha and Daniel followed him towards the great doors at the top of the steps.
As they came alongside the enormous gold car, Samantha noticed that it was parked in a handicapped bay. The older of the two girls, who had short auburn hair and a T-shirt which read Do I look bothered? glanced up as James passed by, flicking a lock of thick brown hair out of his eyes. Her hazel eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. Samantha grinned. She was used to girls having this reaction to her outrageously handsome older brother.
Daniel walked up to where the girl stared in the direction of James’s departing back. He put a fingertip under her chin and lifted it to close her mouth.
“You were beginning to drool,” he said, unperturbed by the cross, embarrassed look the girl flashed him.
“Don’t mind him,” Samantha said quickly. “This is my brother, Daniel. He’s in grade ten at Clifford Heights.”
“And the other one?” asked the girl, craning her neck to see if she could catch a last glimpse.
“That would be James,” Samantha said. “He’s in matric.”
“James,” sighed the girl.
“James,” Daniel imitated, rolling his blue eyes and heading off after his brother.
“I’m Samantha Steadman, sister of the more gorgeous James.”
The other girl grinned. “I’m Jessie Delaney, and this is my sister, Caz.”
She clamped a hand on the shoulder of the younger girl, whose auburn curls bounced as she squirmed to get free.
“My name,” said her sister in an indignant voice, “is Cassandra.”
“Caz is in the junior school, grade five,” Jessie said. “I’m in grade eight.”
“Me too,” Samantha said, smiling.
Behind Jessie, a thin woman got out of the car and whispered furiously at the man who was unloading a set of matching suitcases while talking into the phone wedged between his jaw and shoulder.
“You’d think you could get off that thing” — the woman pointed a long nail at the phone — “long enough to spend just five minutes with your family. But no, it’s always work-work-work! We’re never the priority, are we?”
Ignoring her, the man continued his conversation. The woman slammed the car door shut, then withdrew a silver cigarette case from her handbag, lit one up and inhaled as deeply as if sucking in her last breath. She wore a white linen blouse and a pair of tight white designer jeans with a complicated, blingy belt. Heavy necklaces dripped from the thin neck which supported her tight face. Samantha worried briefly that the woman’s skinny frame would buckle under the weight of all that gold.
“All work and no play, Jack,” the woman continued, wagging a finger at the man so that the collection of gold bracelets on her bony wrist jangled, “has made you a very dull boy!”
Following Samantha’s gaze, Jessie grimaced. “The man with the cell welded to his head is my father, and the stick insect is my mother. They parked in this handicapped bay in recognition of the fact that they’re both emotionally crippled.”
Samantha was torn between shock and the urge to giggle.
Jessie’s father finally finished his call and said, “Let’s not forget that it’s my work which has paid for your lifestyle, my dear. Not to mention your face.”
He picked up two suitcases and headed for the door.
“How dare you!” his wife hissed.
Without a backward glance at her daughters, she stalked after her husband to continue the fight. Cassandra trailed after them, trying to catch hold of her mother’s hand.
“What a pair of old lovebirds, eh?” Jessie joked, but Samantha couldn’t help noticing that her face was strained beneath the smile.
James and Daniel emerged from the doors.
“We’ve dumped your bags at the table for S-surnames,” said James. He gave Samantha a hug, and said, “Cheers. See you in February.”
Jessie stepped up to Samantha’s side, looking hopeful, but she only got a brief, distracted smile from James, and another sighed “James!” from Daniel, who punched Samantha lightly on the arm and said, “Go get ‘em, Steadman!” before sauntering off towards the car.
Samantha hitched her bag higher onto her shoulder. “Should we go in? Or do you want to wait to say goodbye to your parents?”
“No. Let’s get in before they come out for round two.”