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WHEN SAMANTHA ARRIVED back at school a few days later, it was to find that Jessie and Nomusa had already returned from their holidays. They all sat on Jessie’s bed, munching on a giant slab of chocolate she’d bought at the airport duty-free shop, while Samantha told them all about the baby turtles.
“They sound so cute. I hope they all make it,” Nomusa said.
“I freaking hate those crabs!” Jessie said.
“So, how were your holidays?” Samantha asked.
Jessie licked chocolate off her fingers. “Just as I predicted — sea, sand, sun. So far, so good. But also slights, fights, tiffs, miffs and hissy-fits. Then sulks and finally silences. Not to mention Cassie annoying the pants off me by trying to get me to join egg-hunts and Easter-bonnet competitions, like I’m a little kid. In short, it was the pits.”
“And yours, Nomusa?”
“Pretty much how I predicted, too. Tours of parliament, sitting in on working committee meetings and readings of white papers and debates. It’s all so booooring that half the members of parliament fall asleep in their chairs.” When Samantha gave her a sceptical look, Nomusa insisted, “Sleeping and snoring — I kid you not! So, between that and lectures from my parents on the ‘importance of making a contribution to the political future of our country,’ I’m relieved to be back at school, to tell you the truth.”
“The grand plan for your future is still on then?” Samantha asked.
“Oh, yes,” Nomusa said grimly. “My mother informs me she’s going to be researching all the South African universities to see which has the best law faculty. They’ve decided that a law degree is the best basis for a career in politics.”
“Jeez! You’re only in grade eight,” Jessie said.
“Yeah, well, according to them, it’s never too early to start.”
“Did you try telling them that you’re not interested in politics?”
“They never listen. Never! Too busy flapping their gums to open their ears.” Nomusa tugged on her running shoes and, giving the laces a final yank, she added fiercely, “But you mark my words: I’m going to do what I want with my life! And right now, that means I’m going for a run.”
* * *
ON THE DAY THEIR SECOND term of classes started, another cold snap rolled in, leaving a dusting of snow on the high rocky ledges and ridges of the mountains, and icy weather in the valley below.
Samantha felt cold all the time. She hated having to get out of her bed and run along the breezy corridor to the bathrooms, hated hopping from one foot to another on the cold tiled floor while she waited for the water — which at first poured icy cold from the taps — to warm up to the accompaniment of the half-frozen pipes clunking in the ceiling above. And she detested the freezing walk from the dorms to the school buildings, when the bitter wind whistled around their knees.
Inside the classrooms, which were only slightly warmer than the corridors, the teachers were working them hard, doling out loads of homework and setting regular tests.
“Honestly,” Jessie grumbled, “they’re treating us as if we’re the matrics who’re writing prelims!”
The preliminary exams were the final tests in the run-up to the all-important finals which would be written in November. Already the matrics were looking super-stressed as they walked between classes, anxiously checking each other’s notes and muttering chemical formulas to themselves.
“You know what?” Jessie said, staring at a table of final-year students who were pouring over their textbooks while gobbling down their meals in the dining room one lunchtime. “I reckon I can tell whether they’re about to write an exam, or have just written one, merely by looking at them.”
“How?” Nomusa asked.
“If it’s before an exam, they walk around with books and look slightly crazed. But after, they walk around with papers — the exam question papers, see? — and they look dazed and confused.”
“What can you tell from looking at me?” Samantha said, beaming widely.
Jessie narrowed her eyes speculatively and then nodded confidently. “You’ve just gotten back a good mark on a test. Am I right?”
“Not just me,” Samantha said. “All of us — we got an A on the turtle project!”
“Cool,” Nomusa said.
“I got an A!” Jessie said, sounding amazed.
“I’m so relieved,” Samantha said.
“Me, too.” Jessie pointed a finger at Samantha. “I’m totes relieved you didn’t drag down our mark, or slow us down, or anything.”
“Speaking of slowing down” — Nomusa grabbed her tray and stood up — “I’d better speed up. We’ve got an interschool athletics meeting this afternoon, and I need to go change.”
“Good luck!” called Samantha and Jessie, as Nomusa walked off.
Athletics season had officially begun and despite the cold weather, Nomusa trained every day, running long kilometres over the Clifford grounds. She’d returned from the holiday with her parents in a low mood, but Samantha was pleased to see that as she ran more and longer, Nomusa’s spirits lifted. Late that Sunday afternoon, she was in an even better mood, as she hung the cross-country medal for first place on a hook above her bed.
“It’s such fun, and it’s really good for you. Why don’t you two try out for the team?” she asked Jessie and Samantha.
Samantha, who was at the desk doing her history homework, snorted. “Have you never watched Jessie and me during P.T.?”
“Running’s different, Sam — no balls,” Nomusa said.
“Well, that would make me less confused,” Samantha conceded. “But it wouldn’t make me any faster.”
Jessie, who was spread out comfortably on her bed, paging through a beauty magazine, tutted. “These fitness fads. First it was running, then it was power walking. Trust me, lying down — I’m ahead of the game.”
“How about you come for a run with me one day, Sam?” Nomusa said.
Samantha, who had no desire to go galloping up hill and down dale on the finest of summer days, let alone in the freezing cold of winter, was saved from answering because just then Cindy stuck her head around their door. Glancing around the room, she gave a disparaging sniff.
“What do you want?” Jessie asked.
Cindy took in the fourth empty and neatly made bed with a calculating gleam in her eyes. “So,” she said, twisting a stretchy strand of pink gum around the tip of a forefinger, “who’s the other girl in this room? Not that I much care, only I’d like to send her a sympathy card.”
“None of your business,” Jessie said crossly. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Cindy stepped into their room to check the list of occupants stuck on the inside of the door. “Anastasia Oberzhitsky. Funny, I don’t know any grade eight by that name.”
“What you don’t know could fill Wikipedia,” Jessie said.
Samantha could not help exchanging a quick, nervous glance with Nomusa.
Jessie glared at Cindy and demanded, “Why are you still here?”
“Telephone call. On the public phone,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes.
“Who for?” Samantha asked, though she figured it was probably for her. For one thing, she didn’t have a cell phone, and for another, this was the time her father usually called her every Sunday. And today, she knew, was a significant day.
“I’ll have to keep an eye out for Miss Oberzhitsky.” Cindy gave them an evil smile and, as she turned to go, added casually, “You’d better hurry, Samantha, this call is probably already costing your father more than he can afford.”
Samantha jumped up and ran out of the room, ducking the pillow which Jessie hurled after Cindy. She dashed down the corridor and snatched up the dangling handset.
“Hi, Dad? You still there?”
“What took you so long?”
“I was delayed by a cow chewing cud.”
“At the dormitory? I wonder how it got onto the grounds?”
“How are you, Dad?”
“Today’s a difficult day for all of us.”
“Yeah, I’m sad too. It seems like just yesterday, but it also seems so long ago.”
“Three years is a long time, and you were very young when your Mom passed.”
“Samantha swallowed against the aching lump in her throat and blinked hard. “It’s just ... sometimes I battle to remember her face. I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll forget her.”
“Oh, Sam, you might not always be able to recall what she looked like, but you won’t forget her. Who she was — that can’t be lost. It’s a part of you. She’s a part of all of us.”
“I guess.”
“And you’re so like her.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are,” he said simply. “Now, tell me how school’s going.”
“It’s okay, lots of work this term. I can’t wait for the July holidays. Can Jessie and Nomusa come to St Lucia with us?”
“The more, the merrier!”
Back in the dorm room, Samantha said, “Good news! Dad says you and Nomusa can join us for the July holidays. I mean, only if you’d like to.”
“Only if I’d like to? Is the Pope Catholic? Is James cool? Is Cindy not the biggest pain in the butt? Of course, I’d like to come.”
“Me, too,” Nomusa said.
“It’s a pity we can’t take Cindy with, and drown her,” Jessie said
Samantha nibbled on a fingernail. “Do you think she’s on to us?”
“Nah, she’s probably already forgotten about it,” Nomusa said.
But remembering Cindy’s sly smile, Samantha did not feel reassured.