‘That little dance, sis. It was cute.’
She reached out to play with a single one of my braids, like a cat toying with a mouse, and flicked her eyes across me. ‘I can make you cuter, though. I brought my make-up bag with me. We can do a quick make-over!’
I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she drunk or just mad? ‘What? No, I don’t want a—’
Keeya reached out to tilt my chin up, her eyes on the brink between cutesy ice-skating rink and snowy abyss. ‘It’s just that you would be so pretty without—’
My stomach twisted, and I manoeuvred my face out of her grip. Her face feigned apology and she released that saccharine smile again. ‘Look, all I’m saying is I think that we’re the same shade. Ish. Well, your brown bits are the same shade, obviously.’ She laughed and the shards lacerated through the remnants of my good mood. ‘So, I can help cover up all those bits on your face. Make it all one colour, eh? So people won’t stare when you guys are together.’
I stepped back from her, ignoring the warning sting in my eyes. ‘Khosi and I aren’t—’
Her smile shrank and she became steely. ‘No. You aren’t. And you could never be. All this is charity. He’s being nice to a girl his mother made him invite. We both know Khosi is a sweet guy. He wanted you to be comfortable. But I want to remind you to not get too comfortable.’ She moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. She laughed.
‘Look,’ she continued, ‘even if he thinks he likes you, don’t you think, eventually, he’ll get tired of people staring at you like you’re a freak? This is for your sake, sis. Eventually he’ll want to be with someone normal. You deserve to be with someone . . . like you.’
I gritted my teeth, wishing my tears would defy gravity. ‘Fuck you, Keeya.’
She grinned. ‘I’m just trying to help.’
I pushed past her. As soon as Letsha saw my glistening eyes, she wanted to pull Keeya’s tracks out. The only thing that abated the murderous look in her eye was my desperate pleas. ‘Please, Letsha. Can we just go?’
We’d just made it out of the doorway when Khosi appeared and snatched at my wrist, gaze wide and concerned.
‘Hey, whoa—， Leli, what’s up? What happened?’
My tears got heavier at the sight of him. The ground was finally shifting beneath us, separating us and our universes. Keeya might have been a mean little witch, but she had a point. Our friendship wasn’t sustainable. He might not have known it, and why would he? He was King of the Jungle. He had no known predators. I, on the other hand, had started developing whatever the opposite of camouflage was and it was only growing more conspicuous every day.
‘You know what, Khosi? I think it’s best for us to give this up. We were friends as kids. Let’s leave it at that. You don’t have to try any more.’
He shook his head. ‘What? Naleli—’
I snatched my wrist from his grip. ‘No. Khosi, look at me. Do you see me? Like, really see me? Do you know what your friends see when they look at me?’
He frowned. ‘I don’t care what they think. What you look like doesn’t matter to me—’
I laughed humourlessly, the tears falling more aggressively. ‘Thank you so much for being able to look past my hideousness.’
‘Come on. That’s not what I meant—’
I shook my head. ‘It doesn’t even matter. You see what you want to see, Khosi. You want to believe that everything is cute and fine and sunny because that’s what works for you—’
Annoyance flitted over his face. ‘Leli, I know you think my friends don’t like you, but have you ever thought that maybe it’s because you push them away? You don’t even try! You think you’re better than them—’
Letsha gasped and only bit her tongue because I gripped hard on her wrist. My heart cracked, but I hardened my voice, tilted my chin up.
‘I am better than them. They’re a bunch of shallow dicks.’
Khosi stepped back a little, his pretty face collapsing. ‘Is that what you think of me, Leli?’
I swallowed. ‘I don’t know. But I think we should stay away from each other from now on.’
Which we did. For the next two years we moved around each other like strangers, barely acknowledging each other until I received the mass text invite from him for his birthday party. We were eighteen, about to go out into the world, a new world where the factions in school meant nothing. I’d held still, staring at the screen, struck with déjà vu. The last text I had got from him had been a personal invite to his sixteenth birthday party: