All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

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Website: Lynette Ferreira

Praise for The Great Divide

I loved the whole thing. The characterization drew me right in. I feel like I know this girl and I am rooting for her...even though I know she is going to have some problems when she falls in love with the black boy. . ABNA Expert Reviewer 2011

The main character, Chrissie comes off as a very believable character. Her descriptions of herself and her surroundings are quite realistic and should be easy for a Young Adult audience to relate to. ABNA Expert Reviewer 2011

Its really well written and kept me interested the whole time! Pauline on createspace.com

I look forward to reading the rest to see what develops between Vincent & Chrissie and if they have a happy ever after. Anonymous on createspace.com

I love your writing. You really seem to bring the story to life, and I couldn't help but be drawn in the minute I started reading. You definitely have a way of pulling the reader in. And I am SO looking forward to reading the rest of this story. Simone Coetzee on ebookdiva.com

This is my favorite book of them all! 04 February at 19:36 - Tahne Dobson on facebook.com

I found the voice compelling. It felt as though Chrissie was talking to me personally. By Mark Venturini (Amazon Verified Purchase)

FOR Susara Susana Elizabeth Simpson

“No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion.”

Nelson Mandela

CHAPTER ONE

The first moment I saw her standing in front of the class waiting for Mr. Johnson, I did not pay any attention. Just another white girl I thought to myself, but as the minutes ticked by and I continued looking at her, because she made the time pass, I suddenly realized that I was uncontrollably interested in her.

The way she stared out of the window nervously, the way she seemed to be swinging from one leg to the other, her sun-kissed blonde hair, neatly pinned up, with a few wayward strands breaking free from their imprisonment. Her full flushed lips, the intelligence in her crystal blue eyes, and her relief when Mr. Johnson walked into the class, made me smile inexplicably.

CHAPTER TWO

I sit in the great assembly hall, a sea of navy surrounding me, and I smile politely at the girl sitting next to me. She smiles back, but it seems obligatory. She looks down at me pretentiously, and I sink back into my chair, thinking how tough all of this is going to be.

Today is my first day at The Christian Academy, and it is daunting. My nerves are nibbling away at my insides and I can feel their little nudges and pinches in the pit of my stomach. I was, eventually, after a lot of interviews, red tape and paperwork, accepted on a full scholarship here, after my dad decided to come to The Christian Academy and enquire about their scholarship program. Despite sounding conceited, I am academically gifted, so without studying hard I have the ability to do exceptionally well by only paying attention in class. I am very grateful to be here, because in my seventeen years, here on earth, to date, this is my only claim to fame - securing this scholarship.

My dad was over the moon happy and proud of himself for producing such a gifted offspring and secretly, in the privacy of our own home, he would exclaim how I would not have to go to school with so many black kids any more.

I was excited and looking forward to today, because it presented new challenges, which in turn, would mean that I could become anybody and anything I wanted to be. I could pursue a dream career, not something I had thought of often before now, because I had not seen many opportunities ahead of me.

I was never short of acquaintances at my old school, Mt. Pleasant Public School, known for high-test scores statewide. Everyone spoke to me, they were friendly to me, but no one ever told me the latest gossip, never inviting me to parties and I certainly were never best friends with anyone. I did once have a boyfriend for a very short space in time, nothing spectacular or amazing and that just petered out eventually, as we moved on and grew older.

When I appraise myself critically in the mirror, I see a regular face, nice enough hair, and long, dark eyelashes framing my deep blue eyes perfectly. I will never fit into a size zero, and sometimes, this depresses me, but what can you do about genetics. I was ‘blessed’ with a curvy body.

The dean in the front of the hall drone on and on and I have stopped listening long ago, so when everybody suddenly stands up, as one, I leap up as well. Mine is seemingly the last head popping up in the mass of blue. The girl next to me gives me a look that would freeze the polar cap back into its original shape, as everybody starts singing loudly, belting out the national anthem.

I stand watching the faces around me, in awe, because never before have I seen anything like this, the discipline, the pride, the pleasure of being a part of something greater than you are. I have always imagined people of higher standing, those at the top of the food chain, as being conceited, arrogant and full of their own self-importance.

Looking at them now – not including snobbish girl standing next to me - it seems that I might have judged them too soon.

The majority of the kids surrounding me, looked as if they were just like me, trying to make our mark in life. Although, I am sure for most of them, it was easier than for most of us.

I am sure their greatest concerns were the same as mine – getting into a great college, being accepted, to love and to be loved, have friends, go to parties, acne, appearance, and weight, to mention but a few of my most pressing concerns.

When the last note of the anthem fades away, everybody starts to turn silently towards his or her nearest exit and we file out of the hall in neat lines. I catch myself still staring at everyone and everything flabbergasted, remembering to keep my lips tightly pressed together so that I do not start looking like a fish on dry land. Everything here is so organized and everybody seems so disciplined, so different from the real world, the world that I was from - my world.

On the day my parents and I came here for our tour, I received a timetable and a layout of the school grounds, which I had memorized, so now I follow the girl, who was not so long ago sitting next to me, out of the hall, walking behind her neatly.

Once I am out of the hall, I walk straight to my first class, which is just off the corridor, to the right of the assembly hall – luckily very easy to find.

When I get there, I follow the other navy blazers into the class, and everyone sits down at his or her respective desk.

I am left standing in front of the class, waiting for the teacher to come and allocate a desk to me. I stare out the window, to avoid the twenty pair of eyes that I can feel watching me. I hear giggles and whispering, which I know is at my expense. As the seconds tick by, I feel myself inching deeper and deeper into the ground, swallowed slowly, but surely, into the pits of humiliation.

After what felt like infinity, I smile relieved and am slightly overwhelmed when all the students stand up, in a sign of respect, when the teacher walks through the door.

He is young and, to be honest, not the type of teacher I would have expected to be teaching at this school. I imagined them all to be ancient, pre-historic and very wise looking, but he surely is only, at the most, ten years older than I am. He smiles at me friendly, while he motions with his hand to the other students to sit down. He looks at a piece of paper in his other hand, and then introduces me to the class, “This is Chrissie Taylor and she will be joining us from today.”

The teacher looks up, grinning, and says, “Dare I say, Johnathan, severe competition for you.”

I follow his gaze towards a blonde-haired, suntanned boy in the fourth row from the front, and

Johnathan smiles amused, while looking at me, “At last, someone to compete against.”

The other students look from Johnathan to me, and I can already see it in their eyes, they think that I am a nerd, a geek, a drip, a bore – here we go again.

“Nothing like a little bit of competition to get you all to work harder,” the teacher continues.

I had heard before coming to The Christian Academy that all the students here excel academically and that it would be demanding for me to keep up with them, so I thought it would be easier for me to fit in. Now I wonder, as I see the teacher turn back towards me again, why he would point Johnathan out, specifically. They should all be competition for me.

He interrupts my thoughts, “I am Mr. Johnson and you can take the seat next to Anne. She is on the Senior Student Council and has been allocated the task of showing you around and making you feel welcome.”

I look away from Mr. Johnson and see a red-haired girl lift her hand up to her shoulder and wave her fingers back and forth. I walk towards her nervously and pray anxiously that she please not be a snob, but she smiles friendly, a smile that makes her green eyes glitter, and I feel the relief rush through me, from my shoulders straight to my toes.

I sit down next to her, and she moves her books, that were scattered over the entire desk aside, to give me space. Mr. Johnson starts to read his attendance list aloud, and one by one, as he goes down the list, the owner of the name calls out, “Present.”

I look around as he calls out each name to see who answers, trying to memorize names, with no success. When he calls out Johnathan’s name, and I look towards him, he smiles brilliantly at me, while I look down shyly.

Mr. Johnson has an easy teaching style and I find myself totally immersed in what he is saying. Some of the things he is talking about, I have heard before, but he makes it seem that much more interesting and fascinating.

When the bell goes, a soft chiming noise, I am sorry his class is over. I gather my books while Anne waits for me, smiling friendly, and together we walk to our next class.

Anne is very soft spoken, and I have to strain to hear when she speaks and, to be honest, if not for her, I would have gotten lost, in the myriad of passages and stairways, even after memorizing the floor plan of the entire college grounds.

Walking between classes take us a while though, because every now and again we stop to talk to someone. Each time she introduces me friendly, but after a while, many faces and names get all mingled up, and mostly I just stand next to her, waiting and trying not to listen to her conversations.

Secretively I find myself looking for Johnathan.

At break, I join Anne’s group of friends, where they are all sitting on the grass in a circle under a great big oak tree. She does not introduce me, but they all introduce themselves to me, smiling friendly.

I notice Johnathan sitting next to an extremely skinny, blonde-haired girl.

Sitting down, cross-legged, in a vacant spot, I notice from the corner of my eye Johnathan getting up, stretching and then he walks towards me.

He unceremoniously squeezes himself in between Adam and me.

“Come on, Adam, move up – you are not leaving me with a lot of space here,” he says.

Adam sighs, but moves up without saying a word.

I see some of the kids look at each other in that knowing way, and I wonder amused if Johnathan is the ‘player’ of The Christian Academy. I ignore Johnathan and look at the others, interested, listening to their happy laughter and chatter, while pulling at bits of grass in front of me.

Johnathan suddenly leans over me and pulls a long piece of grass out of the ground in front of me, and then promptly he puts it halfway into his mouth, chewing at the end.

I look up at him sideways, and smiling, I say, “That’s just gross, you know.”

“No, it’s not. The grass here is specially cultivated, and is cleaner than any public toilet.”

I laugh softly, “Fine, whatever. I still think it’s gross, though.”

Stephen calls from the other side of the group, “Yeah, Johnathan, do you kiss with that mouth?”

Johnathan laughs boisterously, “I certainly do.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.

They do not really include me in their conversations, but I listen interested and think to myself that they are a nice group. I was expecting snobs, kids who thought the sun would set when they sat down, but I am pleasantly surprised.

It is only my first day here, but they have taken me into their fold, mostly thanks to providence pairing me with Anne.

The day continues eagerly and after the last bell for the day chimes through the halls, I walk out of the impressive gates, past the security guards and then start to walk the mile to the bus stop. The day I was accepted, my dad measured the distance between the school and the bus stop, so I know that it is one point two miles exactly. My dad drops me off in the mornings, but because he and my mom both have full time jobs, I have to either wait until dusk when either one of them can collect me, or catch the bus home.

I realize self-conscious that I am the only one walking along the pathway. All the other students, it seems, are being collected, and some students were driving their own cars.

Thankfully, nobody offers me a lift, although I can feel them all staring at me as they pass me in their big flashy cars, and I feel mortified. I convince myself that I am bigger than this, for all they know I could have had a lift or my own car, but preferred to keep it real.

While riding home on the bus, I thought how fortunate I was that all the kids at this school wore uniforms and they could not distinguish the fact that I was not as rich as they were. All of them, I am sure, only owning designer labels, while, although fashionable, my entire wardrobe did not have a single exclusive item. I have always had a proud façade, and I have a good posture, so if you had to put a rich girl next to me, both of us wearing our uniforms, you would be hard pressed to decide whom the poor one was.

I get off the bus at the entrance to my street and walk up the hill towards my home. We live in Mt. Pleasant, and I have always thought that we have one of the nicer homes in our neighborhood. My father keeps the garden in excellent shape, spending entire weekends in it - pruning, cutting, planting and watering.

Our home had comfortable, worn furniture, and walking through the front door always made me feel safe and protected, like letting everything go and just sigh a breath of relief at leaving the world out there.

It seemed from the traffic chaos that ensued once the last bell chimed musically through the halls at school, that most of the kids at my new school had stay-at-home moms. In my previous school, you would have had to look high and low to find a kid fortunate enough to have his or her mom at home when they got there.

I go up to my room and pack my books out onto my desk, and then go back downstairs to get something to drink. I spend the rest of the afternoon doing my homework and as the sky starts to darken, I go to the kitchen to start dinner. Cooking dinner is my chore during the week, so when my mom and dad get home from work, we can just sit down to eat.

My mom always gets home first and whirls into the house, usually calling, “Hi, Chrissie,” on her way up the stairs. The first thing she does, each day, as she gets home, is have a shower, to wash the day off her, as she always says.

My dad gets home a little while later and he always, always comes to the kitchen first. His stomach rules him and he will follow wherever it leads.

“Smells nice, Chrissie. What are you cooking for us today?”

I smile and say, “Chicken, your favorite.”

He lifts the lids of the pots, and sniffs the air appreciatively, while he asks, “So how was your first day in the land of the Jones’?”

“It was actually very nice. A bit nerve wrecking in the morning, but I fit in right away. I suppose there are those who think they are more important than what they really are, but I did not meet any of them – and hopefully I wouldn’t have to,” I smile.

“Ah, they can’t help it. As long as you remember who you are, and that you are indeed the most important person in the entire world.”

I smile, and then my mom walks in, in a haze of apricots. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and my dad often says that we could have been twins, but I do not see the resemblance. Her long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in a mass of curls, her eyes are a radiant, sapphire blue, her cheeks always have a rosy glow and she has curves in all the right places.

We sit down to eat, and my mom and dad cannot stop asking me questions, but I am excited to share my day with them. I am the only child and my parents had me when they were still very young, so although I know my boundaries, they are also my closest friends.

It may seem distressing that someone my age would consider my parents to be my friends, but there you have it. I have never had anybody other than them to share my life with, because as I have said before, I have never had any close friends, and a girl needs to share her hopes and her dreams with someone. As a result, out of necessity, they have been the ones I have told everything to, they have played a pivotal role in my life thus far.

They give me space, at times, I feel too much, but I have never given them reason to worry or fret and I aspire to make them proud of me. They love me without measure and I would never do anything to disappoint them.

The day passed quickly and I really enjoyed myself, more than I ever thought I would.

CHAPTER THREE

The first month at my new school pass without any drama, and after public school, it is all very mundane. It seems as if nothing exciting ever happens - no fights after school, no rude behavior, any swearing or cussing.

Johnathan sits next to me most breaks, and as ridiculous as it sounds, this makes my heart jump wildly in my chest. Every night I lie in bed and contemplate starting a conversation with him, but come daylight and lunch-break when he is sitting next to me, I am unable to put my well thought-out plan into action.

Sometimes he will lean into me, his head close to mine, and then ask me softly, “How are you doing, Chrissie Taylor?”

“I am fine, thank you, Johnathan,” I would reply shyly, and then berate myself for the rest of the day for being so inhibited, and not being able to speak my mind when I am in his presence. I persuade myself that he is very forward and I am just not used to being on the receiving end of special attention from boys, and this is most probably the reason for my nervousness.

I foolishly, find myself looking for him during the day, everyday and secretly I do enjoy the interest he seems to have in me, but I also notice that every other girl in the school is in love with him as well. I observe the way they near-collapse whenever he walks by and how he enjoys this, how he uses his charm and charisma to exploit this.

He is academically the best student in school, achieving top, top marks and all the Ivy League Colleges are head-hunting him vigorously - a situation he just takes in his stride. He has a joy for life and I fear that all that talent is going to go to waste, because he is probably hoping to cruise along on the wealth of his parents.

No one has made the effort to get to know me better, or asked me where I live or what my parents, or more so, my father does for a living. They all just assume, because I am white and are able to attend the same school as them that I too live in a world of abundance.

There is no need for me to follow Anne around anymore, but still she waits for me after each class and we walk together to our next class. I would not say that we have become friends in this short space of time, but she can be pleasant at times and I find myself strangely enjoying her company – sometimes - because every now and again, she can be very snide towards me.

An excitement is hanging over the school. It is February, and inevitably, V-Ball is only two weeks away. All the girls gather in the halls, in the cafeteria and in the toilets discussing their dresses and the one dress sounds more exaggerated than the next.

I start to feel anxious, because although I am sure my mom and dad would be able to afford to buy me a new dress, it would most certainly not be an extravagant designer dress. My father would exclaim, ‘But it’s only a Valentine’s Ball’ - and I can already hear him in the back of my mind.

The first time they started talking about V-Ball, I was perplexed and asked Anne one morning, “What is V-Ball?”

At first, she looked at me confused, as if she could not understand how I could not know, and then she explained, “V-Ball is our Valentine’s Ball.”

“Okay,” I smiled, feeling silly, because in hindsight it was obvious.

She continued, “In May we have the Annual Charity Ball,” and then excitedly she added, “This year it is a masked ball, and then of course there is the Matric Farewell Dance at the end of the year.”

Many dresses to worry about, I think to myself.

Anne continues, “I suppose you won’t have a date for V-Ball, being new?”

I smile, as friendly as I can, “No, I’ll have to come on my own. And you?” I do not mention that I am hoping above all hope that Johnathan will ask me.

“We always come as a group, even those in a relationship, because then those of us without dates don’t feel so awkward.”

This is a great relief, “That’s great. Do we all just meet at school, or do we arrive together?”

“We meet here. It is a tradition already in our year, so I would not worry about that, if I was you.”

“Have you already bought your dress?” I ask carefully.

She gushes – literally, “Yes, my dad topped up my card last week, thankfully, because I was seriously maxed out. I bought the most gorgeous green dress. And you?”

My throat constricts slightly, “Not yet. I will probably go this weekend.”

“You must go to this little shop just off Main Street. They have the most brilliant designer dresses. They are pricey, but worth it if you don’t want to be caught wearing the same as someone else.”

The bell chimes – thankfully – and Anne starts walking towards our next class.

Thankfully now all I have to worry about is what I will be wearing, and not stressing that I could be the only one walking into the hall unaccompanied.

Once a week we have assembly, and I no longer feel ship wrecked, floating in the middle of this navy blue ocean, desperately fighting to survive.

After we sing the national anthem, I notice that nobody is leaving, and there seems to be a different energy in the hall. Once everyone is sitting down again, and a hush falls over the hall, the curtains on the stage unpredictably open. I stretch my neck, and I see the equipment from a band of some sort arranged across the stage.

Shockingly I hear a few boys whistle, and look across the aisle to see who could be so rowdy. Yes, here boys and girls are seated separate, boys to the left and girls to the right.

Four boys walk in onto the stage and everybody starts to clap excitedly. I berate myself for not listening and hearing the announcement, because now I had no clue what was going on. I said earlier that I do well academically, because I pay attention, but I never mentioned when there is no need to concentrate, I drift off into my own little world. Recently this would include my fanciful imaginings; similar to tales in far away kingdoms with Johnathan being Prince Charming and me - I am obviously, the damsel in distress.

I look towards Anne, sitting next to me, and I want to lean towards her and ask her what was going on, but she is staring forward fixedly.

Three of the boys pick up the instruments neatly placed on the stage, while one boy slides in behind a set of drums. They start playing a song, a song I had never heard before, but it is very catchy and I cannot help liking it.

The lead singer is exceptionally attractive, even though I immediately notice his skin color – black.

I notice Anne looking at him in adoration and I wonder who he is. He is wearing a school uniform, so he is obviously a student here, but I have never seen him before. It could be one of those situations where something has been in front of your eyes all along, but you never notice or realize, until you come face to face with it.

I have never noticed the amount of black students in school, although I am sure there were not many. They kept to themselves and they were not in my group of friends.

When the four-member band finishes their song, the lead singer waits patiently until the whistles and clapping stops.

He smiles, and it lights up the room. I cannot help it when I feel the corners of my mouth lift as well.

He announces, “Remember to buy your V-Ball tickets; there is only a few left over.”

The hall groans, and then the band leaves the stage accompanied by loud cheering and clapping, while I think to myself disheartened, that now, besides having to convince my parents I needed a new dress, I would also have to persuade them to buy me a ticket to the V-Ball. Maybe I should just not go, but then again, there was such a build-up around the whole affair and I could not help myself, I looked forward to also going.

At break, I ask Anne, “Who was that band playing in the hall this morning?”

“Oh, that’s Vincent. It’s his band, and they call it ÉLastique. That’s French for elastic band, but I’m sure you know what it means.”

I grimace on the inside, but outwardly, I smile, and say, “They’re very good. That song they sang has been stuck in my head since this morning.”

Anne smiles distracted, “They signed a record deal near the end of last year with a big producer and they spend all their free time in the Music Centre. I hear they will be releasing their first single in July this year.”

“It all sounds so exciting.” I heave a sigh.

Unexpectedly she says, “Come,” and starts to stand up. I get up and follow her, blissfully aware that Johnathan is staring after me.

She leads me down a long, badly lit corridor, an older, medieval-looking part of school I had not been in before. I start getting flashing images in my mind of witch coven initiations, candles and big shiny knives. I start to feel apprehensive and am indecisive whether I should make up a lame excuse and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction.

Just as we turn a corner and I open my mouth to make an apology, that I need to be somewhere else, I see, feeling slightly mortified at my silliness, a big sign and read the words, Music Centre, above a large archway.

We walk through under the archway and then through a doorway, into the Music Centre.

There in front of me is the entire four-member band from this morning, they are huddled around a piano and the lead singer jokingly bumps the drummer, saying laughingly, “How can you not hear the rhythm in that piece, and might I add without drums?”

The drummer is about to retaliate, when Anne clears her throat and they look up as one.

“Hi, boys,” she smiles coyly.

“Hi, Anne,” they say together, as if in a chorus, and start laughing.

“You were great this morning.” I see her looking only at the lead singer, when she says this.

“Thank you,” he replies, “That’s going to be our first single.”

The drummer adds, “Not quite. We need a female vocal for the chorus, but basically that would be it.”

“Well, I’ll be the first one to buy a copy,” Anne giggles, to my astonishment.

The lead singer looks towards me, smiling friendly. He holds my eyes with his for a moment, and for no reason, I struggle to breathe, a tightness suddenly crushing my chest.

Weirdly, I notice, his eyes. They are bright green and it looks odd yet captivating against his dark skin. I am unable to look away.

Anne does not bother to introduce us, and I cannot think of one intelligent thing to say. I berate myself and think irritated how seriously ridiculous I am being, just standing here, star-struck.

I watch Anne flirt shamelessly with him, but he is obviously not interested and I start to feel a little sorry for her.

The bell chimes and we all walk out into the corridor together.

When the band members are a few paces further on, ahead of us, the lead singer looks back at me. He catches my eye and for a brief second, he holds my gaze with his. I feel everything around me turn foggy and for some peculiar reason I am only aware of him.

A momentary frown flashes across his brow, and then he turns back and they walk away laughing and joking.

Once it is only Anne and I walking towards our next class, she sighs loudly, and says, “What I would give to be with him. I swear I have had a crush on Vincent for a whole year already, but he just does not notice me.”

I agree with her, “He is very attractive.”

I am shocked though, that she is confessing something so personal to me. I am confused how she could wish to be with him - he is black. Since I was old enough to understand, my dad has warned me to never, ever come home with a black boyfriend. My dad says he is not a racist, and although we can be friends with anybody from any race, creed or color, he puts his foot down at inter-racial relationships. After years of hearing this, I would never even look twice at a black boy, or even contemplate having more than a friendly relationship with him. My dad often tells me, jokingly serious, that he has nothing against white people, when it comes to me dating.

Now as I listen to Anne gushing over Vincent while we walk along the corridor, I convince myself that I could never like him in a romantic way, yet I can feel that unmistakable ball in the pit of my stomach. That feeling that I try to push aside, but it feels like it is digging its claws into my sides, persistent and painfully real.

My parents give me money to buy a ticket for V-Ball, borrowing from Paul to pay Peter, as they say. They want me to fit in at my new school, to make friends and to be accepted. I take the money gladly.

The weekend before V-Ball, my mom and I go shopping for my dress. We go to a shop my mom searched for on the internet. A designer shop, but not a designer shop in the normal sense of when I mention the name, everyone will gape. It is a shop where designers, who are unable to open their own shop, or only starting out, or even still design students, rent a rail in this huge warehouse type emporium.

We find a beautiful salmon pink dress that accentuates my small middle and then hoops out over my generous hips, with stiff netting.

I am very excited and I am now looking forward to V-Ball. I cannot wait, anticipation building up inside of me, at the reaction Johnathan would have when he sees me in this beautiful dress.

I get dressed the evening of the V-Ball, and my mom helps me with my hair. I feel beautiful in my one of a kind dress, at a fraction of the price, but the best thing about the dress is that it makes me look slim.

My dad drives me to school and when I get out of the car, my nerves bundling up at the bottom of my throat, I take a deep breath, swallow, and with my dad smiling encouragingly to me, I walk towards the hall.

I walk towards my group of friends, and a few of the boys wolf whistle. They have no tact, and considering that these people are supposed to be the cream of the crop - I have honestly met people of less fortunate circumstances who had more manners.

Johnathan is with the painfully skinny girl, Tanya, and they dance together the whole time, while I try to avoid looking at them. I have to admit that this upsets me, because he always makes me feel special, invading my space, standing too close to me, talking to me as if he likes me, and I honestly thought that he liked me. I definitely know that I like him.

I dance only a handful of times with the rest of my group, dancing all together, and I avoid Johnathan - not even looking in his direction.

The ÉLastique’s play a few songs. I convince myself the only reason I am so interested with Vincent is that he is almost famous. He has a beautiful voice, a lot of charm, is extraordinarily handsome, and I can picture him being very well known, and this is probably what makes me so fascinated with him.

During the evening, I notice Vincent and his band members across the hall with a group of girls, laughing and seemingly having a great time. I also notice that there is a beautiful black girl constantly by his side.

When Anne and I walk to the bathroom together, I can see she is upset about something. Before I can ask her, she blurts, “He has a new girlfriend every week, and I can’t understand why I am so attracted to him.”

I ask, “Who?” I presume, heart-breakingly, that she is talking about Johnathan.

“Vincent. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Oh. Okay” I always seem to have my foot in my mouth.

Drawing from my own limited experience, I say softly, consolingly, “Sometimes we just fall in love with someone and we then hope beyond reason that that person likes us back with the same measure of undying love.”

She laments, “I have never seen him with a white girl, not ever, not once, so I don’t know what makes me think he will notice me.”

I do not know what to say, so I just smile awkwardly.

I decide then, annoyed, that Anne and I could actually be truly great friends, because we have so much in common – we are both unable to have relationships with boys - boys we want. I like Johnathan and she wants Vincent, desperately.

Tanya goes home long before the scheduled end of the ball, and then Johnathan comes to stand with us again. He actually comes to stand next to me, and then nudges me slightly, grinning.

I ignore him, pretending I do not notice him. I wonder irritated if he really thinks he is now going to replace Tanya with me, because he had no one to spend the rest of the evening with.

I turn to walk away from him, to go and stand somewhere else in the group. He folds his hand around my arm softly.

I look up at him, frowning, and insist softly, “Leave me.”

He smiles that boyish smile of his, “Are you jealous, Chrissie Taylor?”

“Why on earth would I be jealous?” I laugh dryly, making sure to keep my voice low, because I would not want everybody to hear us.

“I was dancing with Tanya all night - that’s why.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself. You can spend your time with whomever you want to, I am not your girlfriend.” I pause, “and I never will be.”

I look down at his hand still wrapped around my arm, “Let me go, now.”

“Come on, you don’t mean that,” he smiles alluring.

“Yes, I actually do,” I insist.

He moves and is standing in front of me, once again too close. He brings his head down and rests it on my forehead, as if in exasperation.

Softly he says, “Tanya and I went out last year, and we already decided then that we were going to come to V-Ball together.”

“Why are you trying to justify yourself? I already told you I don’t care - at all.”

He lets my arm go, and then he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him.

Seriously, he says, “Yes, you do care, because you would not be acting like this otherwise.”

I sigh exasperated “What do you want from me, Johnathan? Must I entertain you now that Tanya has gone home? You have ignored me the whole evening and now you are all over me.”

“That’s not fair,” he retaliates defensively.

“Do you want to know what’s not fair? You’re not fair.”

“I don’t understand what you are getting at?” He says seriously.

He honestly seems unaware of his actions, or he is acting dumb, and I give in.

I know that it would be better to move on, because Johnathan spells trouble and heartbreak. I saw it that first day already yet I started liking him – typical.

I include him in my conversations, forgiving him against my better judgment.

The last song of the evening is a slow song, and Johnathan drags me onto the dance floor. I want to protest, but I do not want to make a scene either.

He holds me very close to him, and I know I should resist, but he is so tempting and maybe he was talking the truth about Tanya.

I enjoy the way he holds his arms around my waist, and the way his blue eyes connect with mine. I am sure deep down, although he does not know it yet, he realizes that I am the girl for him.

I notice Vincent staring at us absorbedly, but then again everyone was looking at us.

CHAPTER FOUR

I watch her walking shyly towards Anne’s desk, and she sits down. The sun glimmers off her hair and I feel a strange twinge in my heart, a feeling I have never experienced before.

I notice with a sudden thrust of jealousy the way she looks at Johnathan and I try to look away, but it is as if she has weaved a spell around me, and it is only by force that I am able to look back at Mr. Johnson and concentrate on what he is teaching us.

The bell chimes, an irritating xylophone sound, and I pick my bag up from off the floor.

By accident, I end up walking out of the classroom, behind her and Anne. When she turns to reply to something Anne said, I notice with a plunge in my stomach her elongated neck, the little wisps of hair and her perfectly shaped ear.

What is wrong with me? I wonder frustrated and it is with relief that I see Dennis walking towards me. He would be able to take my mind of this unwanted state of affairs.

I cannot believe that I could be so attracted to this girl – not only is she the complete opposite of me, but never have I ever had the slightest interest in a white girl before.

“Hey, Vincent,” Dennis greets me as he walks towards me.

“Hey,” I catch myself that I am still frowning, and then I smile at him.

“Have you got any news yet from Mr. Jackson?”

We walk in the opposite direction of Anne and Chrissie, and I say, “Yeah, he phoned last night and he wants to meet with us tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great.”

We walk in silence, and when we cross the quad, I cannot help looking back at Chrissie and I notice her standing next to Anne, while Anne is speaking to one of her many superficial friends.

All the girls walking past Dennis and me greet us friendly and usually I find this flattering, but today it just feels overbearing.

Dennis interrupts my thoughts, “Are we practicing today?”

“What do you think? I think we should just have a break today and see what Mr. Jackson wants first.”

“I suppose you’re right, we should take this afternoon off. I need to start spending some time with Clara anyway,” Dennis says with a sigh.

I laugh, “Yeah, before she leaves you again. I swear girls are so fickle, they want to be with the pop star but then they don’t want to put up with waiting around.”

“She’s getting there. Are you going with to the Blues Bar this weekend?”

“Might as well.”

“There’s usually a few single ‘hotties’ hanging around.”

I laugh. When it comes to hot, single women, I never stand back.

I do not see Chrissie again until break, and she is sitting under the tree with all of Anne’s friends - they are all laughing and joking – she fit in right from the start.

We do not sit under the tree. There is a common presumption that this space is for the Senior Student Council, yet the two black students on the council do not sit here either. Most think that it is because they would rather prefer to spend break doing other things, but we all know, yet we prefer to ignore the thin membrane of racial divide that exists.

I also notice Johnathan sitting next to Chrissie, plying his charms on her. I cannot understand what the girls see in him, with those washed out blue eyes and pasty white skin.

Every girl, black and white seem to swoon when he walks into a room, it is nothing less than infuriating. I realize that this has never bothered me before, so why would it do so now?

I leave school as soon as the last bell chimes through the corridors and I see Chrissie walking along the pathway. It looks like she is on her way to the bus stop and I contemplate stopping and offering her a lift, but then I press the button on my car stereo, increasing the volume and then listening to the music loudly, drowning out all thoughts of her, I drive away from school as fast as traffic would allow me.

When I eventually get home, I park my car in the garage.

Maria is in the kitchen, and I greet her friendly, but I am not in the mood for chitchat, so I walk past fast calling out a greeting in a rushed tone. I run up the stairs quickly and once I am in my room, I turn on my stereo as loud as possible. I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

My mom died when I was young. She was involved in a car accident and the white teenager, who killed her, by jumping a red light, only got a few years in jail.

My father now works all day and all night - I hardly ever see him.

He promised himself when he was young that he would work himself into a frenzy until he could afford anything his heard desired, and now he owned his own share-listed Construction Company.

Before my mom died, when I was only five years old, he used to be home more often and I often think back to those days. We used to do things together, play ball, go to the park, the beach and have picnics. When my mom died, he just went to work one day, and I do not think he ever really came home again.

He used to dislike white people before the accident, but now he simply loathed them.

I remember my first day in Grade 1. He made a special effort to be at home that evening for dinner and I told him excitedly how June gave me one of her cup cakes. He enquired carefully if June was a white or black girl. I replied innocently that she was white, and he then told me calmly and convincingly how I should and never could have a relationship with a white girl.

I never questioned him, because he was my father. I was young then, and growing up I never doubted him, because even though I liked June because her pink frosted cup cakes were the best I had ever tasted, I never liked her in that way, anyway.

Since Dennis, George, Simon and I started the band, and we started playing at venues, I have had many white girls falling over their feet trying to get my attention but never once did I feel the slightest attraction towards them. I have never even looked twice in the direction of any white girl before, until now.

I get up from my bed, and then I switch on my gaming console. Playing a violent game, should get my attention diverted.

I play until Maria calls me to come and eat.

Maria has been with me since my mom died. She has cleaned our house, cooked and looked after me. I wondered if I could ask her what she thought was wrong with me, but I do not, because she might tell my father, and that would just create tension in an already volatile situation.

My father told me once, in passing, how proud he is of me with the success of our band, after Mr. Jackson helped us sign a deal with a record company. When he told me this, I felt a sense of relieve and I wanted to continue to make him feel proud of me. Maybe then, he would notice me more often, because now we hardly talked. I would hate to disappoint him.

George, Dennis, Simon and I meet with Mr. Jackson. He tells us that the release date for our first single will be in July. He also encourages us, convincingly, that we should consider having a female singer included in the song, because it is a ballad. He feels it might have a greater appeal if there was a female vocal included.

After much discussion, we agree and then decide that we would hold auditions at school. The girl who gets the part can then also go on the tour that Mr. Jackson is trying to arrange for us during the summer break, and she could act as back-up singer as well.

Everyday I see Chrissie, in the corridors, in class. She is so ignorant of me, and I suppose this is a good thing, because if she was anything else towards me, I might not have resisted. I fight hard against my feelings, yet I find myself looking at her when no one else can see me.

A week before the V-Ball, Mr. Jackson arranges with the Dean for us to perform our debut single in front of the school, after our weekly hall period.

Dennis, George, Simon and I are nervous. Although we have performed at a few malls and bars, this would be our first time performing in front of our peers.

We can hear and feel the excitement in the hall, and instead of this making me feel more relaxed, I actually start feeling more nervous.

Seconds before we have to go on stage, Dennis runs off to the bathrooms and when he gets back, he is sickly pale. Not one of us talk, we are too preoccupied with our own feelings and trying to stay calm.

We walk onto the stage and the applause is loud. We have already arranged our instruments on the stage, while the hall proceedings were in progress.

We start playing and singing, and all else fades into the background. I think the students liked it, because they cheer loudly and the clapping is deafening. I remind everyone to buy his or her V-Ball tickets early.

I also think that I am getting over Chrissie, the forceful rejection of my feelings towards her, is starting to work.

At break, we are in the Music Centre. We spend most of our breaks here, and usually we would have a few girls here with us, while we fiddle with the music instruments, but today it is just the four of us.

I am in between girlfriends.

Simon and Dennis have had long-term relationships and their girlfriends are frustrated with the band spending so much time together, so they avoid being with us during school hours.

George has no girlfriend and I do not think he has ever had one.

We are standing around the piano, laughing and joking.

Simon tells us he can play a tune on the piano and add rhythm without adding drums. George laughs and tells Simon to prove it. Obviously, you could never replace drums, but we like to annoy George – he makes it so easy.

Suddenly, Chrissie walks through the door into the music centre, and I do a double take. I only notice Anne when she smiles towards me and greets us friendly. I look into Chrissie’s eyes and realize that I am undoubtedly in love with her, and am most certainly not getting over her.

She is standing in front of me, uncertain of herself and I have a million emotions and sensations rushing through my body at the same time, but I manage to remain indifferent.

Anne is talking to me, but I hardly hear her. I want to speak to Chrissie, but I have no idea of what I should say.

Mercifully, the bell rings, and we walk out of the Music Centre, ahead of Chrissie.

I walk with my friends, but it feels as if something is chasing me, so I walk a little faster than they do. Just before we turn the corner, I look back and into the eyes of Chrissie. Immediately, I repeat to myself to stop this foolishness.

That afternoon, while we are practicing in the Music Centre, Sabrina walks into the room. Sabrina is Mr. Jackson’s daughter, and at times she can be pompous and arrogant. She seems to be more than interested in me, and she is beautiful.

I decide there and then that she would be the perfect antidote to help me get over the pathetic feelings I seem to have for Chrissie. Impulsively I ask Sabrina to go to the V-Ball with me, and she accepts.

The night of the V-Ball, I drive to her home to collect her. Mr. Jackson is happy to see me and he seems to approve that I have shown an interest in his daughter. Sabrina comes walking down the stairs and to be honest, she does take my breath away. What I realize though in those brief moments, watching her, is that Sabrina is no comparison to Chrissie, and I would never be able to substitute her.

Sabrina talks without end and I smile politely every now and again to acknowledge that I am listening to her monologue. I am relieved when we drive through the security gates of school, and I park the car in the student parking lot.

I walk around my car, taking a deep breath and then I open the door for Sabrina. She steps out of the car elegantly, and then she hooks her arm into mine possessively, as we turn towards the hall.

I notice Chrissie immediately across the lot. She is alone and I suppose it is her dad dropping her off. She seems to hesitate nervously and then she leans into the car and pecks her dad on the cheek, smiling sweetly. She then walks towards the hall and I stare after her, my heart following her.

“Hey, Vincent,” Sabrina says softly next to me, following my gaze.

I look at her smiling, and she continues, “Are you nervous playing here tonight?”

“No. I think after the other day in the hall I’ll never be nervous again.” I laugh uncertainly, “That was the worst nervous I have ever felt.”

“I’m sure you will be great,” she says as she hugs my arm closer to her side.

I decide to enjoy my evening with Sabrina, to forget about Chrissie – I was being ridiculous anyway.

I cannot help glancing in her direction every now and again, but she is unaware of my existence.

At the end of the evening, the last song for the night, I notice Johnathan haul Chrissie onto the dance floor. She looks unwilling, yet when he pulls her closer into him, she goes willingly. Johnathan holds her close to him, and although I know it should be none of my business, it is every bit my business.

CHAPTER FIVE

A week later, at break, Johnathan hands me an invitation to attend his birthday celebration. His fingers brush mine explosively and he looks at me in that particular way when he hands me the envelope. He is always, in my opinion, over-friendly and charming with every girl who will let him, and at the beginning it used to irk me, but then I realized that he looks at me in a way he reserves for me, and not the other girls. He is so convincing, how could I not like him?

Looking at the gold leaf letters printed onto the black cardboard of the invitation, I recognize that in my world this would be good enough for a wedding invitation.

I see that the party venue is at an up-market restaurant and frankly, I could not see the point. I am only seventeen years old, I want to go to a party with flashing lights, blaring music that still has my ears ringing the next day, the only refreshments crisps and cold drinks.

Everyone in my group is excited, because we were all invited and what the heck, I might as well go, even though I think, personally, that it is silly to have a sit down dinner for your eighteenth birthday party.

Besides it is Johnathan, how could I not go?

My dad once again drives me, and as we stop in front of the restaurant, Johnathan is still standing outside. I am reluctant to admit this, but I feel humiliated getting out of my dad’s car. His car is as old as I am, and although well taken care off, still aged and by far, not the latest model.

I wait at the curb until I see my dad’s taillights fade into the night and then taking a deep breath, I turn and walk towards Johnathan, feeling self-conscious. In this instance, I have judged him too harshly, because he does not even indicate that he noticed my dad’s car, make or model.

“Here you are,” he says relieved, “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

I smile pleased, and ask jokingly, “Are you waiting for me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why, are none of your usual girlfriends here tonight?”

“She just arrived.”

My heart soars, as he puts his arm around my waist, and then we walk into the restaurant.

It turns out to be an enjoyable evening - we laugh and joke, the food is delicious. Johnathan sits close to me, and every now and again, I catch him looking at me.

When it is almost time for my dad to pick me up, Johnathan leans towards me, and smiles seductively, “Are you not going to give me a birthday kiss?”

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