Too Young to Die Read online

  Priscilla started getting mad. She pushed open the car door.

  “My nails aren’t sharp for nothing, you know.” She tried to run, to grab at Thandi, but one of her high heels got caught in a ditch and she nearly fell over.

  “Your heels are sharper than your nails,” said Thandi, and backed off, laughing.

  “You silly little bitch!” Priscilla shouted, and tried to run again. But her ankle buckled under her and she had to catch herself from falling. In a rage she took off a stiletto and hurled it at Thandi. But Thandi ducked and it went past her, its sharp point wedging itself in dry mud. Thandi picked it up. “Bad luck, Cinderella,” she shouted, and ran off with the shoe as Priscilla cursed and swore.

  A young boy was watching the scene. “Stop staring and go get my shoe, you moegoe!” Priscilla shouted at him. He backed off, his eyes wide.

  Priscilla tried to calm down. “Boy, I’ll give you R10, just go and get that shoe from the girl. This pair cost me R600!”

  “Then you will have to give me more than R10,” said the boy. “I’ll do it for R50.”

  “Kids these days!” shouted Priscilla, hobbling to the car. “You greedy little shit. I’ll do it myself.”

  She pulled her other shoe off in the car. She had never driven barefoot before. It did not feel good. It made her feel like a little girl again, a little girl who didn’t have money for school shoes.

  “I’ll get you, Miss Goody-girl,” she said, seeing Thandi’s face in her mind. “You’ll pay for this. Just wait.”

  She drove down the road, but Thandi had melted into thin air. Now she would have to get a new pair of shoes as well as everything else. She cursed again under her breath. The sweetness of the morning had gone, and she knew exactly who to blame.

  Chapter 9

  “We heard what went down at the party.” Mongezi and Simphiwe were waiting for Mzi as he climbed out of the school taxi.

  “You heard from who?” asked Mzi. But he knew. Vuyo was spreading it around, how he had threatened Olwethu. It was making Mzi look a coward, that someone else was fighting his battles for him. What did Mongezi and his old gang want him to do?

  “You think I don’t know …?” he shouted and then stopped. He couldn’t let them see his fear and frustration.

  “Hey, calm down. We were only saying what we heard …” They had the faces of people who wanted to gossip

  And then the siren went and he had to go inside. “I know a guy with some good stuff,” Mongezi called after him. “We could go in together.”

  So that’s why they were hanging around. They wanted in on any drug deal that was going down. They had heard. Priscilla had been spreading the news.

  He had to get the drugs soon or the other guys would. He needed those drugs. He needed the kids at school to be terrified of him again. And there was nothing that would do that quite like a drug dealer. Nobody messed with them. Not if you didn’t want a knife in your back.

  He imagined walking with his old swagger, seeing everyone’s frightened faces, and he swore he would do it that afternoon. But then he remembered Zakes, handcuffed and shackled – that could be him if he didn’t stay clean until the court case. The probation officer had come around that morning. At least he was better than the social worker who tried to mother him. But he had stood there sweating, hoping the officer wouldn’t smell the alcohol on him, from the night before.

  * * *

  In between lessons he saw Ntombi waiting to see the secretary. He hesitated, weighing things up in his mind, then he went over to her. Yes, she must have respect for him, that was what he wanted, but he was getting sick of the way she avoided him like he was a disease. He knew how to treat girls. He would remind her of what she was missing. He had seen her eyes the other day, there was something still there.

  “Hey,” Mzi started. “So?”

  “So what?” said Ntombi quickly.

  “I mean, how are things? Priscilla said she saw you.”

  “I see. News travels fast,” said Ntombi, not looking at him. Then the secretary called her in and she scuttled away like a mouse.

  The next lesson was Life Sciences and the teacher asked them to pair up. This was a nightmare. Everyone had partners except Mzi. There was a wide circle of empty space around Mzi. No one wanted to work with him.

  Then from the other side of the room Thandi walked over to him, past all the girls who were grouped together. She came and stood next to him. For a moment there was silence as everyone watched, before they started talking and laughing again. Part of Mzi wanted to push her away, but part of him was so relieved that he had a partner. He tried not to show it. She would be all over him if he let his guard down.

  The activity was stupid but Thandi knew what she was doing, and Mzi was glad because Meneer came over to look at their work. “Why did you choose me?” Mzi asked roughly.

  “Why not?” she looked at him so directly he felt she saw all his hidden secrets.

  “Did you feel sorry for me, standing there?”

  “Start believing in yourself, Mzi.”

  “Who said I stopped?” he spat back.

  But she wasn’t listening to him, and carried on talking.

  “That girl, Priscilla, she’s not good for you. She –”

  “Don’t you talk to me about Priscilla,” Mzi snarled. “You know nothing about me and her. Do you understand?”

  Thandi looked as if she was about to say something, but the look in Mzi’s eyes must have stopped her.

  “Stay out of my business,” he hissed. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

  “There you are wrong,” she said softly. “Don’t you remember me?”

  But the siren drowned her voice and Mzi didn’t hear her.

  On the way home he replayed the scene in the class with Thandi in his mind. What did she know about Priscilla? How could a little stick insect like her criticise the woman that Priscilla was? She was just jealous, that was it. Girls were fighting over him, just the way it had always been. Laughable, a girl like her thinking she had a chance with Mzi.

  He thought of the job for Zakes and he thought of peddling those drugs. He needed to get out. He just needed to say the word to Priscilla and he would be back in the game.

  The only time he had to meet the crew or seek out the drug dealers was on the way home. But yet again as he turned the corner something happened. A car pulled up. Mzi stopped for a split second, thinking it was Sergeant Ndebele. There was nothing to stop him shoving Mzi into his van and taking him to a quiet street or out into the bush to beat him up. It happened. There were rotten apples in the police force. And there was no one else around to witness it.

  Then he heard the woman’s voice. “Can I give you a lift?” It was Mrs Yola, the social worker. Like he couldn’t walk! Reluctantly he got into the car. He let her talk, about her son who was the same age as him, about all the boys she had helped and who were doing “so well” now. On and on … He sat in silence. When he got out she called after him.

  “I hope you are going to keep our appointment on Wednesday.”

  Shit, Mzi had forgotten all about it. They were meant to meet every week. He was also meant to start working at the community centre. She said it would look good for the court case.

  “Of course not,” he waved.

  “Good. You know it will be hard but you will have to make new friends if you want to stay out of trouble.”

  Mzi nodded, thinking of Vuyo and Priscilla and his manskaap. As if he could ever abandon them.

  When he got home he went straight to open the fridge. What was he hoping to find? A cold beer? There was a bottle of iced water and he gulped it down. Then he slouched on the couch and switched on the TV. He heard his sister playing some music in her room. The TV was crap, the picture had gone fuzzy and there was no money to have it fixed or buy a new one. A fla
t screen, that’s what they should be watching. Zakes had taken him home once and proudly showed him his screen that filled up most of the wall of his lounge.

  “One day you will have all of this too,” he had promised. And it would have been, if not for Olwethu.

  Mzi got out his phone. He wouldn’t phone Vuyo; he wasn’t ready yet. He hadn’t forgiven him. But he could phone Priscilla. She could distract him.

  He would tell her he would do the drugs and then they could have fun together. He didn’t feel any emotions. And that’s how he wanted it: like that old Mzi, not this new person who spent so much time in his own head. She could bring him some cigarettes and help take his mind off things. She could help make him forget about school. And she liked him, she’d be there like a shot.

  They could laugh about Thandi who obviously had a crush on him, who wanted to rescue him, like he was a stray puppy. Those were the worst kinds of girls. When they got their hooks into you it was hard to escape and they wanted to talk about feelings all the time.

  “What are you feeling right now? I think we should be open with each other and share …” Mzi knew how it went. He swatted a fly with the back of his magazine and watched it jerk and then die. Then he typed out the message on his cell.

  Ey bby. Cum ova…Mzi

  Then he added –

  Mic u

  As soon as he sent it, he wished he hadn’t added the miss you …

  Sowi, Bzy…cll me l8r. P

  A slap in the face. What kind of game was she playing with him? She didn’t know what she was missing. There were other girls.

  But a part of him, under the layers of anger, wondered why nobody liked him any more. Why didn’t she want to see him? Didn’t she find him attractive? Was it the way he had kissed her? Or was it because he wasn’t a bad boy anymore, because he hadn’t said yes to selling the drugs.

  As it got dark, he looked out onto the street. A taxi drove past, the music blaring. There was the sound of a gunshot not far away. He could hear the noise from the tavern. And inside the house, the sound of his sister singing to herself as she cooked in the kitchen. It irritated him, the way she had to clatter dishes. Everything irritated him. It was like insects crawling on his skin. He needed a drink. And he had no cigarettes.

  He tried Vuyo – nothing. They had forgotten him.

  At midnight he couldn’t stand it any more. He had to get out. To be anywhere but here. He phoned Priscilla again. This time it went onto voicemail.

  “Welcome to Lady P’s world. I greet you in the name of love. Lots and lots of love. Please leave a hot message. I miss you.

  I love you stacks.”

  He threw the phone against the wall. Love – she didn’t know the meaning of the word. He knew he had loved his brother, but Priscilla – she loved anyone who gave her something. She couldn’t be trusted.

  He felt under the mattress for his gun. He lay there in the dark with the gun on his chest and his eyes closed. He thought of his brother, Themba.

  * * *

  After they took his brother to jail, Mzi had gone back to the place where they had caught him. Now he was back there in that night, reliving the memory of being that small, scared boy who wanted to know what happened to the brother he loved so much. The brother who was there, laughing and playing with him one day and gone the next.

  Chapter 10

  He was only nine when it happened and he knew it was a memory he would never forget. It was dark when the police came. There was a knock on the door, loud, almost bashing the door down, not a friend coming to visit. This was the knock they all feared. His sister went out and pulled the door closed behind her. Mzi ran to window and pulled the curtain aside a tiny bit. The policeman seemed huge standing there next to Mzi’s sister. There was another one in the van. Mzi couldn’t see who was in the back of the van. He strained his eyes and then he saw fingers holding onto the bars. He knew those hands: they had held him up and spun him around, doing aeroplanes in the sky. They had showed him how to hold a bat. They had stroked his head when he had a fever.

  He wanted to shout but the policeman was standing there and no sound could come out of his mouth.

  The door was pulled open, and two policemen followed his sister into Themba’s room. He heard them throwing Themba’s precious music system onto the floor, heard it shatter. They were there for a few minutes, swearing, and then they left without saying anything to his sister or him. He looked into the room and saw Themba’s mattress, blanket, clothes, all in a messy pile on the floor. It looked so wrong. Themba always kept things so neat and clean.

  His sister was crying. Mzi hadn’t known what to do. He wanted to comfort her. But she went to her room and shut the door. He was left alone in the lounge where he slept on the couch. He didn’t understand. There was no one he could speak to about it. His parents were dead. The other family were far away and they wouldn’t care.

  He couldn’t do anything. It was killing him. He was only nine but he had to find out. He had to see for himself. Mzi waited for his sister to fall asleep. He lay, his heart knocking in his chest. He would search for something of his brother. He would start in the deserted yard behind one of the workshops not too far from their house. It was where Themba used to hang out with his friends. Sometimes he had let Mzi come with. It was where Mzi had first had a puff of a cigarette and a swig of beer. The guys had laughed when he had coughed and spluttered. “You’ll get used to it,” they had joked.

  What had his brother been doing there that night? Mzi wanted to see for himself, he wanted to try to find something his brother left that he could keep with him, even if it was just a blood stain on the concrete from a wound. He needed to know his brother had been there.

  He opened the door and tiptoed through the house and onto the street. It was dark but the moon was full and he could see his way through the back alleys. A pack of dogs growled and came after him, but he threw stones at them. He couldn’t stop now. A car cruised by with the windows down and some guys jeered at him. He ducked against a wall. Then he ran and didn’t stop until he came to the yard. It was an open stretch of cracked paving; grass grew up through the cracks. It was a plot that was once going to be built on but there had been a dispute and now it lay untended.

  As he walked over to the fence he heard a snarl and saw the flash of teeth. Two huge security dogs bit at the wire between him and them. Their spittle stuck on the mesh. One bite and he’d be missing a hand. He stood frozen. He felt the warm urine running down his leg. He saw a shadow across the concrete, and thought it was the police. But when he turned it was just branches blowing in the wind. This was probably where Themba had been caught. It felt like a physical part of him had been ripped out. It was stupid. Standing there in the yard in the middle of the night, what had he hoped to find? His big brother waiting for him, laughing at the joke? That it had been a mistake? Glass cut into his bare feet as he walked to the far side of the yard away from the dogs. He needed to get into the shadows, but the dogs were making such a noise, someone would come and find him there.

  Then he remembered his brother’s hiding place inside the old drain pipe in the corner that was stuffed with branches. His friends and him left stuff there for each other: knives, guns, packets of drugs. Maybe he left a letter for Mzi, or a present. He knew it was crazy, his brother didn’t know he was going to be arrested, but he couldn’t help hoping. He pulled the branches out, hoping that rats wouldn’t bite his hands; it was dark. Deeper and deeper he felt until his fingers felt material wrapped around something hard. He pulled it out. An old T-shirt, Themba’s, with blood on it. Inside he unwrapped it slowly. There inside was his gun. He imagined the scene. Themba had heard the van, had just had time to hide the gun before they arrested him.

  * * *

  Mzi opened his eyes and held up the gun. He knew what it felt like now, to travel in the back of the van. He had been shoved in that nigh
t Olwethu had called the police. Nobody wants to be in a cell with other criminals, not even for 20 minutes. And he had stayed there waiting for his day in court. Him and Zakes. At least nobody would touch him because of Zakes.

  Then he was nine, now he was nearly 18, and his brother had been in prison all that time. He turned the gun over in his hand. It was the only thing he had left of Themba. He rubbed it with his shirt. He had asked Vuyo for bullets, but he couldn’t rely on him any more, and he had searched the whole house and yard and eventually found just one that had been hidden in a packet in one of his sports bags. He put it in the gun. One bullet. One chance. Holding the gun, knowing it was loaded. It made him feel clearer – more focused – like the old Mzi, not this confused person who had taken over his mind.

  He put his index finger on the trigger and imagined shooting. “Bah! Bah! Bah!” Someone had to pay for what happened to him.

  “Goodbye, Olwethu.” But as he said it, he heard his brother’s voice, sharp and clear, as if he was in the room. The words he had said when Mzi visited him, whispered to him that he had found his gun. “Mzi, take care of the gun ’til I come back. If ever you are tempted to use it, think twice before you pull that trigger. You can’t bring people back from the dead. And the dead will live with you forever. Do you hear me?” And then visiting hours were over, and it was all he could do to stop crying.

  He wished he could talk to Themba now, ask his advice. But he had been in trouble in Pollsmoor – a guy had wanted to kill him – and now Themba had been transferred to a prison out of town, too far for them to visit often. He wondered what Themba would think of his plan. Surely he would agree that this was one person who deserved to be sent to the land of the dead.

  Chapter 11

  Mzi had to get Olwethu. It was a matter of honour. And he knew where to find him.

  He opened the door to his sister’s room and looked in. It was dark and she was fast asleep. He looked at his watch. 10 p.m. The night was still young. If he had a car he could drive to the garage where Olwethu worked for his uncle after hours. What a diligent boy Olwethu was! Attending school and making some pocket money to take Ntombi out. But the money Olwethu made in a month was small change compared to what Mzi made working one night for Zakes.