Entwined. Cheryl Ntumy S.. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Cheryl Ntumy S.
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Детская проза
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781472044532
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too?”

      “No…” I sneak another look at Wiki, but he’s hiding behind his book. “He just knows a lot about this stuff. I can learn a lot from him.” I give her a reassuring smile. “And he’s really not that scary. You just have to get used to him.”

      She’s not convinced, but she’s willing to let it go for now. “Hmm. I’ll keep my eyes on him,” she promises, wagging a finger at me. “If he messes with you…”

      I have to laugh at that. Lebz can be feisty, but she’s all talk. “Thanks.” We don’t do mushy girl-bonding, so I poke her affectionately in the ribs. “What about you, Wiki? Can I count on you to slay dragons for me?”

      “You mean lizards,” Lebz cuts in with a sly grin.

      “The pen is mightier than the sword,” Wiki mumbles. Ri-ight.

      I rather like the idea of someone defending my honour, but as the bell goes I remember that my honour isn’t in danger. As my encounter with Thuli has proven, I’m the kind of girl guys consider for just a fraction of a second. Ouch. I need to think about something else before the humiliation cuts too deep.

      I try to zone in on the thoughts around me. Nothing. Wait, there’s a vague… no, nothing. What’s going on? Is something getting in the way of my telepathy, or is this just how it works?

      I start to sense some vague sounds as bit by bit the clarity returns. Suddenly it hits me full force, making me stop in my tracks. Unfortunately I’m behind a rowdy group of boys. Sigh – I’m sick of hearing about Xbox and boobs. I push past them, inching towards my classroom, and come up behind a guy with earphones on. There are many downsides to telepathy, but nothing’s worse than being subjected to other people’s music. I can’t take any more lewd lyrics or brain-numbing beats. And what kind of a name is T-Pain, anyway?

      I shake my head and take a deep breath to settle the noise in my head. I wish I knew where it went all of a sudden, and what made it come back.

      Chapter Five

      There are a lot more students in the library than I remember. More books, too. I come here occasionally to do research or look for the odd novel; it’s just been a while since the last occasion. Wiki leads the way, winding through the shelves without even glancing at the signs.

      “Over here,” he whispers, pointing me in the direction of the books on Setswana proverbs. You might wonder why Wiki, who can barely greet in my second native tongue, knows where to find Setswana books. It’s not that he’s partial to languages or proverbs, he’s just partial to books.

      “Thanks,” I whisper back.

      He replies with a distracted wave, and I watch him run his fingers thoughtfully across the spines of the books as he turns the corner. He’s already forgotten I exist. I reach for the thinnest book and flip through it. It seems to have been written for primary school. It’s perfect.

      My Setswana isn’t what it should be. After my mother died the only person I spoke it with was Lebz, but not often. My only close relative from my mother’s side is Ntatemogolo, and he was off dancing with wolves in Peru or someplace. When he finally came home, he was appalled by my cultural ignorance. He took me to the cattle post for a weekend and made me sit up all night listening to crickets chirp so I could get in touch with the earth. I learned a lot about crickets and cows, but not so much about culture.

      “I didn’t know you were such a lazy student.”

      I almost drop the book. My chest fills with a mixture of annoyance and relief, and I’m careful to wipe the smile off my face before I turn around.

      Rakwena’s lips are curled into that smile that pisses me off, but some of his usual vibrancy is gone. “No self-respecting Form Four student would use that for an assignment.” He taps the book’s cover with the tip of his forefinger.

      I snatch it away and glare at him. “Setswana is hard; everyone knows that,” I snap. Nevertheless, I slide the book back into its place on the shelf. “Where have you been?” I hope that sounded casual. I hope it didn’t sound as if I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering whether he’s avoiding me.

      “Sick.”

      “Sick?” I frown at him, suspicious. “What was wrong with you?”

      “Flu.”

      “It’s summer.”

      He smiles and runs a finger along the side of the shelf. “Were you worried? You sent me a million messages.”

      “Not a million,” I protest in indignation. A few students send curious glances our way. I lower my voice. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t backing out of our deal. You remember our deal, don’t you?”

      “How could I forget?”

      “So? When?”

      He hesitates, as if he wants me to make the call. What is it with boys? I thought they were supposed to take charge.

      “Today,” I suggest. “Lunch time.”

      “After school. The usual place.”

      I get a little shiver when he says that – the usual place, as if we’re having a torrid affair. I study him for a moment. He doesn’t look quite like himself; some of his swagger is gone. Maybe he really was sick.

      He reaches over my head and pulls down a book. “Here. If you want your teachers to take you seriously, you’d better use books like this.” He hands it to me. It’s a thick monster of a book with a ghastly brown cover. The font is so small I might need to borrow Wiki’s glasses, and it’s written in grammatically correct traditional Setswana – the kind I get a headache trying to decipher.

      My jaw drops. “It’ll take me all day to read the first page!”

      “Good. It’s about time you learned to challenge yourself.” With that snide statement, he slinks away.

      No wonder Lizard doesn’t have any friends. He’s a smug, self-righteous know-it-all. I march to the check-out desk with the book in my hand. I’m not taking it out because he suggested it; I’m taking it out to prove a point. Besides, I don’t have to read the whole book. Skimming was invented for a reason.

      By the time the final bell goes I’ve worked myself into a state. I’m distracted, my telepathy is still off and I’m almost terrified to find out what Lizard’s skill is. What if it’s dangerous? My hands are shaking so badly I keep dropping my pen. Eventually I get my act together, pack up my things and head outside, and then I remember that I haven’t told my friends about my plans for the afternoon.

      For a moment I consider just disappearing and dealing with them later, but Lebz emerges from a classroom nearby and spots me. Damn, damn, damn!

      “Listen, I have to hang around for a bit,” I tell her before she can open her mouth. “I have a very important meeting.”

      “Meeting?” Her eyes narrow. “You’re not part of any club and you don’t play sports.”

      The lie is poised on my tongue. A group assignment for Development Studies. We get them all the time; it’ll be completely plausible. But do I really want to spend the rest of my life lying? I unzip the front compartment of my bag and pretend to check for something. “I’m meeting Rakwena, so you should go on without me.”

      She grabs my arm and drags me to a corner. “What? Already?”

      I pull my arm out of her grip. “Ouch! Already what?” Switch. Everything in her mind is clear again, for the moment. This back and forth is starting to make me dizzy.

      “Meeting in secret after school! Does Wiki know about this?”

      I sigh. Lebz is such a drama queen. I wish I couldn’t see the ridiculous thoughts running through her mind. Rakwena is not going to hurt me, and he’s not going to shove