Authors: Nerine Dorman
Good thing his roomie had gone home. Just about everyone had gone home.
Now, to get back. His luck was in. A battered minibus taxi collecting hospital staff waited in the parking lot, thumping and vibrating to the crunching rhythms that tickled the soles of his feet as he approached.
The passengers–mostly Xhosa-speaking–looked away and shifted to the side when he climbed in. The old woman next to him went so far as to pull her bag onto her lap in an attempt to create a barrier between them.
He tried not to notice and concentrated rather on counting out the silver coins that would get him most of the way back to school.
“Rubidge Secondary,” he said to the driver, whose gaze slid away from him.
The ride along the dirt road that passed the turn-off to his school jolted and bumped him so that he couldn’t help but be pushed against his fellow passengers, who shied away from him, bringing a grim smile to his lips. Don’t touch the freak, oh no, your kids might catch dwarfism. His daddy was the
tokoloshe
.
Another reason to avoid public transport. No one was making muti from dwarf parts yet, or were they?
The taxi’s interior threatened to stifle him with the scent of hair oils, sweat and the packet of chicken and chips that reminded him again that he had not eaten.
Etienne was only too glad when they stopped outside the white-pillared gates. The minibus disgorged him before the
guardjie
slammed the door shut with a resounding crash. He stood choking on dust to the accompaniment of summertime’s ever-present cricket chorus.
“Only a kilometer of walking until you get there, lad,” Etienne said, hoping to feel less alone, less small.
The western horizon held the last hints of flame orange, the rest of the sky turned an inky cobalt flecked with stars. Although the air remained warm, Etienne shivered. He disliked being out on his own after dark. Too many nights of waking in an empty house, the stretching shadows reaching out to smother him, to tear his scream from his throat before he had a chance to vocalize his fear.
Karee willows lined the road, their boughs laden with their burden of delicate, pointed leaves. At times like these Etienne wished he had long legs so he could walk faster down the road. Anyone could be hiding, waiting to jump out at him. Then again, he wasn’t that important to warrant that sort of attention, was he? Unless kids at school got bored.
His obvious defect didn’t bother him in the solitude of his bedroom, in his world of horror movies, graphic novels and music. There he could always exist a million miles away, living other people’s lives until they became as real as his own.
The car’s engine had a deep-throated roar that jolted him out of his reverie. If the house father was already out looking for him, there was no telling how much trouble he’d be in.
Headlights swung through the trees around the curve of the hill. Etienne made for the tree closest to him and pushed himself against a thin trunk while praying the sparse, spreading branches would conceal him.
“
Stand absolutely still
,” his father’s voice echoed. “
If you don’t move, chances are they won’t see you because their attention is focused on the road and not on the bushes next to the road.
”
That had been a long time ago, when he’d still had a house and parents to go home to.
Etienne held his breath, glad that his long-sleeved t-shirt was black.
He pushed his white sneakers as far as possible into the dry grass, wincing when prickles stung the skin around his ankles.
The car roared over the dip. Etienne shut his eyes. The vehicle slowed, its tires crunching on the gravel until the car stopped.
He was so royally screwed.
He may as well face the house father or whomever they’d sent to find him.
“You can come out,” a young man with a reedy voice called out. The faintest trace of a British accent colored the tone.
“Eh?” That was so not the house father. Etienne pushed away from his hiding place to confront the guy, who stood silhouetted in the red taillights of no car he’d ever seen on the road before. Old. Streamlined. He couldn’t tell what color the paintwork was save it had a great deal of chrome finish and white-walled tires.
The boy’s hair had been scraped into a messy ponytail. He had bare feet and he wore cut-off denim trousers and a t-shirt, like he’d been to an especially muddy outdoor trance party and had somehow gotten transplanted here in the Karoo. And he drove that car? He looked far too young.
Then the penny dropped. “You’re Trystan, the one Helen told us about.”
The boy smiled, nodded. “Yes. And you’re Etienne. The short one.”
Mmmph, whatever. “Well, you’re too late. Her father came to pick her and her brother up this afternoon to take them home.”
“Where did they take her? She’s not there. I’ve just come back from Nieu Bethesda.”
“No. He’s taking them to Joburg. Pity you missed them.”
“What?”
“Yes. I can give you her number, if you want.” Arwen was going to kill him. “But I gotta get back to the dorms or–”
Etienne did not get a chance to finish. Trystan strode toward him and grabbed him by the shoulder with a long-fingered hand.
“Hey! What the fuck?”
But Trystan was much stronger than him and he had no choice but to climb into the car. Trystan’s fingers bit into pressure points that left Etienne’s shoulders numb.
He made one attempt to slip past, but Trystan pushed him in by the driver’s seat, all the while keeping a hold of him so he could not open the door on the passenger side.
Trystan revved the idling engine so they jerked away.
“Where are we going? What do you want with me?” Etienne wailed. Okay, this guy was completely nuts. Arwen was right.
“For a drive. You need to tell me what happened here. I’m gone for twenty-four hours and the world goes to hell.”
“Some boy in grade eight went postal. He’d been bullied. Took it upon himself to attack a group of us during assembly.”
“Was Helen hurt? Did you see a woman with black hair who drives a black BMW?”
“No. And no.”
Trystan snorted and his grip on the steering wheel slackened. “Do you know where Helen’s dad lives?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who might?”
“I have her number, I can call.”
“Do it!” Trystan snapped. “Do it now!”
Etienne knew fear. Trystan’s intensity had him fumbling for his phone, all too aware that the young man’s eyes burned into him while he depressed buttons.
An automated voice spoke: “The number you have dialed...”
“Her phone’s on voicemail,” Etienne said. “Why are you so freaked out?”
“Helen’s in danger.”
“What do you mean? If you’re the–”
“I’m trying to save her life, little boy. Now, who else may know?”
“Her grandmother.”
Trystan’s hiss froze Etienne’s blood. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Then he seemed to collect himself. “Where’s Arwen?”
“In hospital.”
The car jumped onto the tarmac with a growl. Trystan swung the steering wheel hard, and geared down so the vehicle jerked.
“Where are we going?” A tremor had crept into Etienne’s voice he was unable to hide.
“To the hospital. To fetch your friend. She’s going to help.”
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow morning?”
Trystan looked away from the road to glare at him. His eyes blazed, flashing green with the reflected light of a passing car. Did people’s eyes reflect light like a cat’s?
“If this could wait, do you think I’d be hauling your pint-sized rear along? If you love Helen at all, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“Right.” Etienne clutched the leather seat. “How am I going to sneak in?”
“You’ll think of something.”
Etienne debated jumping out of the car when they stopped at the first traffic lights. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Trystan would be able to run much faster than him.
The guy cut corners so tightly Etienne was thrown around.
The parking lot outside the clinic was deserted, the front reception area’s lights dimmed.
“Where is she?” Trystan asked.
Etienne closed his eyes and orientated himself with a mental map of the building. He’d heard the street from her window, a ground floor room with a jacaranda outside.
“She’s in that wing.” He pointed to the right-hand side of the building. “We needn’t go in except that–”
“You’re worried about the security guard.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take care of the security guard. You go in and get Arwen.”
Although his knees buckled as he trotted across the parking area, Etienne refused to stumble. What in all hell’s name was he doing?
Breathing posed a greater challenge. His lungs seized up as he moved–a fine time for a panic attack.
Any moment now he could bump into the security guard. Did the guy have a dog? How was he going to explain this tomorrow? He’d have to go back to school at some stage. Did they know he was missing yet?
At first he wasn’t sure which window was Arwen’s until he rounded a corner and saw the coal of a cigarette flare. She sat on the windowsill, her legs dangling over the edge.
Etienne ran, only stopped when he stood a meter from Arwen’s perch.
“What the? Etienne! What the fuck!”
“I’ll explain later but we’ve got to get out of here. Now!”
“What’s gotten into you?” She frowned at him, giving the impression she had no inclination of moving.
“It’s important, Arwen!” Etienne hopped from one foot to the other, clasping and unclasping his hands.
Arwen took another drag of her cigarette, a leisurely gesture, and pouted her lips to allow the acrid smoke to trickle out. “I’m being discharged tomorrow. I’m in no rush to go.”
“It’s Helen! There’s trouble! Trystan said so. He’s here! We need to help her.”
“What? No way!”
“Arwen, please!”
She narrowed her eyes and flicked at a piece of unruly fringe. “You’re not going to leave me in peace, are you? Trystan is bad news. It’s better that he doesn’t know where she’s gone.”
“No, Arwen! Please!”
How in heaven’s name would he get the importance of this situation through to her? He didn’t understand any of it himself, save that if he didn’t give Trystan what he wanted...
Arwen took one more drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out with an impatient gesture against the wall so that sparks flew.
“Oh, very well. Give me a minute. You can’t expect me to go with you if I’m wearing
this
.” She gestured at her pale shift.
Etienne rolled his eyes then made shooing motions with his hands. “Just grab some stuff, please, before we wake up the entire world.”
He was just relieved he’d started her moving. The last thing he needed right now was for Trystan to investigate what took them so long. He had a terrible feeling there was far more to Trystan than met the eye.
Chapter 27
This is a Happy House
Trust their father to buy a house in Houghton. Everyone in this road lived barricaded behind six-foot walls topped with razor wire, spikes and electrified fencing.
“I’d meant for you guys to come stay for the school holidays,” their father said by way of apology. “I’m sorry the rooms aren’t ready yet. We haven’t had time.”
By saying “we,” their father meant him and Christine–the other woman.
They’d bought the place together a month ago. Christine was twenty-four and already working in her father’s law firm. Old money.
Helen didn’t want to know anything of this. For some reason she found herself angry that she’d forgotten to take down the beadwork sun hanging in her bedroom in Nieu Bethesda, with its William Morris wallpaper.