BROKEN PROMISES CHAPTER 4

 

 

Chapter 4
Ntombi couldn’t concentrate in
class. All she could think of was
Mzi’s hand touching hers, his smile,
his words. She was lost in a dream
world. This time it wasn’t a
nightmare. It had a happy ending …
Mzi and her on a beach holding
hands. Mzi and her watching the
sunset…
“Ntombi!” She looked up. Her English


teacher, Mr Ntlanti, was standing
next to her desk, and she hadn’t
even noticed him come up beside
her. “Ntombi, are you daydreaming?”
“Sorry, Mr Ntlanti.” She felt herself
blushing. Mr Ntlanti was one of her
favourite teachers. He didn’t just
stand in front of the class and read
out of books, expecting them to take
notes. He asked them for their
opinions, and had class discussions
about relationships between girls
and boys. Sometimes the boys
would make silly comments, and
even then Mr Ntlanti would laugh
and tease them back.
Ntombi heard Asanda giggling
behind her. “I wonder who Ntombi’s
dreaming about?” Asanda said, just
loud enough for the boys next to her
to hear. But Mr Ntlanti had sharp
ears.
“Class, that’s enough! We are not
running a dating service here. Get on
with your essays.” Mr Ntlanti turned
back to Ntombi. “Ntombi, I heard you
were in the singing competition,” he
said. “We need someone to write
about it for the school magazine. I
wondered if you’d like to write a
page. You can write anything. You
could even write song lyrics.”
“Thanks. I’d love to.” She smiled up
at him. Ntombi couldn’t believe it.
She had always wanted to write for
the school magazine. And to write
music lyrics was even better. Mr
Ntlanti had taken notice of her, out of
all the kids in the class. And Mzi
Mlongeni had taken notice of her
too! This was turning out to be a
really good day!
“Good.” Mr Ntlanti smiled, “I’ll tell
Selwyn. He’s the editor. You’ll need
to attend the editorial meeting on
Friday.”
* * *
When the bell went Ntombi was the
first out of the classroom. “Where
you going in such a hurry?” Asanda
called. Ntombi, Asanda, Lettie and
Busi normally hung out together at
break. They were best friends. And
they were the best friends to have.
Not like Xoliswa who pretended she
was Ntombi’s friend, but then had
gone around saying bad things about
Ntombi behind her back. No, these
girls were loyal to each other.
But this break time Ntombi couldn’t
hang out with them. She had
someone else to see. For a second
she hesitated on the stairs. Normally
there were no secrets between them.
They all knew about it if there was a
boy one of them liked, before the boy
even knew. But Ntombi knew what
they would say if she told them: “Are
you crazy? Don’t you remember what
that Mlongeni boy did to Tilly? And
in matric? She had to wait a whole
year before she could retake her
exams. And does he support the
child? No. Just pretends he knows
nothing about it.”
“But that was Themba. This is Mzi…”
Ntombi would argue. However she
knew they would just shake their
heads: “Like one, like the other.
Didn’t Mzi nearly get expelled for
drinking at school?” It was true,
thought Ntombi, he had. She
remembered him being called down
to the office. But that was last year.
She hadn’t heard anything since
school started. Surely people could
change? Hadn’t she changed? One
day the boys didn’t notice her and
the next she was being told she was
cute by the hottest boy in Grade 12,
and being asked to write for the
mag. And didn’t she deserve some
fun? All her friends had had
boyfriends, even if they had only
gone out for a few days! So she
turned and ran down the stairs on
her own, ignoring Asanda who called
after her to wait.
* * *
Mzi was waiting, as he said he
would be, outside the sports shed.
But today, instead of being part of a
group of boys, he was alone. When
Ntombi came closer she saw him
stub out a cigarette he had been
smoking, and put something he had
in his pocket in his mouth. Two
thoughts raced through Ntombi’s
mind. First: he shouldn’t be
smoking. And then, that he looked
like a film star – so casual and cool.
“Bad habit, I know,” he laughed as
she walked up beside him. “I’m
trying to give up. I’ve cut down to
five a day – from twenty,” he added.
“Want one?” He offered her a
Dentyne.
“Thanks. Listen I haven’t got much
time – I’ve got to go and see Selwyn
about the magazine. They want me
to write a story about this singing
competition I’m in.” She stopped.
She was being so uncool, telling him
all this stuff. Talking non-stop like
an excited child.
“This won’t take long,” he said
touching her arm. “I wanted to ask
you…” He suddenly became shy,
looking down at his shoes. “I’ve
been wanting to ask you if you’d like
to go with me to the party at
Thabiso’s this weekend.”
Ntombi bit her lip. She had promised
her friends that they would go as a
group. But when she had promised
there was no Mzi in her life. “I…”
“Think about it,” Mzi said. “I’m not
going anywhere.”
* * *
That afternoon when Ntombi got
home she felt like she was floating
on air. Surely Mzi wasn’t the boy
everyone said he was? People could
be mean, and jealous. He smoked –
that was bad. But he was trying to
give it up – that was good. He had
helped her pick up her books – that
was kind. No, she decided that she
would make up her own mind about
him. Suddenly it didn’t matter so
much that her mother wasn’t there,
or that the TV still wasn’t fixed.
Nothing seemed so bad anymore.
Suddenly the world looked rosier,
because Mzi wanted to take her, not
some glamorous babe, but her, shy
Ntombi, who had never had a proper
boyfriend, to the party. “What a
difference a day makes…” she sang,
as she started to tidy the house.
“What’s up with you?” asked Zinzi.
“I’m just happy. Am I not allowed to
be happy?”
“What’s there to be happy about?”
complained Zinzi. “I don’t see
anything’s changed, do you? Mama’s
out. There’s no TV, no food and I’m
hungry.”
“I’ll go to the spaza shop,” said
Ntombi. “I’ll cook something really
nice.” She went to look in the tin
where her mother usually left cash
for them, in case of emergencies. It
was empty. Reluctantly she took
money she had saved up from her
purse. She had intended to use it to
have her hair braided for the party.
But they had to eat.
* * *
At the spaza shop she bought rice,
oil, a tin of pilchards, and some
onions. Ntombi counted out her
money; she was three rand short.
“I’ll have to leave the onions,” she
said.
“Hi, Ntombi.” She heard a voice
behind her and turned to see
Olwethu. He must have come up
really quietly because she didn’t hear
him. Ntombi knew him from school;
they’d been in choir together for a
year. He was a bit older than her,
and she had admired him: he was
quiet, but when he did talk, what he
said was always interesting, or
funny. He was tall and thin, not
hunky like Mzi, but not bad looking
either. When he stopped coming to
choir, Asanda had told her that he
had to drop out of school for a term,
because his father had died of AIDS
and his mother had died in a taxi
accident on the way back from his
funeral, leaving him with a brother
and sister to care for. How much
tragedy could one family take,
thought Ntombi, looking at Olwethu
now. He was smiling at her.
“Hey, I’ll give you some onions. I’ve
got a bag at home.” His voice was
low and kind.
“Don’t worry,” Ntombi said, feeling
shy.
“Really, it’s not a problem,” Olwethu
assured her, “I live just around the
corner now.”
“Are you sure?” Ntombi asked. “It’s
just my mother’s out and I have to
cook for my little sister.”
“I know what that’s like,” Olwethu
said. “Little sisters can be difficult.”
They laughed.
* * *
Ntombi walked with Olwethu down
the street and round the corner to
one of the shacks in the next road.
The inside of his shack was small
but cosy. There was an old TV in the
corner, and colourful newspaper
pictures on the walls as wallpaper.
As Ntombi came in Olwethu’s sister
and brother jumped up and greeted
her. An old lady, who was sitting in
the only chair in the room, put down
her knitting to greet Ntombi. “Hello
Gogo, don’t get up,” said Ntombi
quickly.
“Ntombi was short at the shop and
she needs some onions to cook for
her sister,” explained Olwethu,
handing his grandmother her glasses
that had fallen to the floor.
“You are welcome, child,” the granny
said. “Give her some fruit too.”
Ntombi saw that they didn’t have
much, but Olwethu was picking out
the best pieces of fruit to give her.
“Ntombi’s singing in the competition
I was telling you about,” said
Olwethu.
“Sing something for us!” His sister
begged.
“Hey … stop pestering her,” said
Olwethu. Ntombi could see she was
disappointed.
“I can try,” she said. She started
singing – softly at first, then louder
as she got her courage up. When
she finished they all clapped. She
felt really good.
“Your parents must be so proud of
you,” the granny said. “You are so
talented: a beautiful voice for a
beautiful girl.”
“How many songs do you have to
sing?” asked Olwethu.
Ntombi was not used to being the
centre of attention.“Three songs. I’ve
chosen one R&B, one gospel, and a
ballad.”
“And which one is your mother’s
favourite?” asked the granny.
“Well, actually…” Ntombi could lie
and pick any one. But looking at the
granny’s open face she suddenly
didn’t want to lie. “Well, actually my
mother’s been too busy to listen to
me…”
“Who could be too busy to listen to
that?” asked the granny. Before she
knew it, Ntombi found that she was
telling them about how their father
had left, how her mother had got a
new boyfriend, and how she didn’t
have time for them anymore.
“That must be hard for you,” said
Olwethu. Ntombi suddenly felt bad.
Here he was listening to her and
sympathising, when he had lost both
his parents.
“It is difficult when a new man
comes into your house,” said the
granny.
“Especially someone like Zakes,”
said Ntombi. She saw the granny
and Olwethu exchange a look – a
look of what? Fear, anxiety?
“Not Zakes Gamadala? The one who
is driving that silver BMW?”
“That’s the one,” said Ntombi,
suddenly feeling a familiar uneasy
dread in her stomach. So there was
something about Zakes that her
mother didn’t know? It wasn’t just
rumours. She had felt it all along.
But what?
“Tell me,” she said to them. “Please.”
The granny shook her head. “All I
know is, that man is a cheat, and
maybe a thief. He sold my friend a
car and after she paid him, she
found out that the car was stolen.
He wouldn’t give her money back.”