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and a long sip of her drink.
    About two weeks in I phoned Nelson.
    â€œWhat you up to?” he asked.
    â€œNot much.” Which was true. The next bit wasn’t, though. “This and that. You?”
    â€œI’ve been selected to run for the National Junior Team,” he said, unable to contain his excitement. “I’ve been training every day. It’s lekker. The best thing ever.”
    â€œI said you were good.” I was pleased for him. Then a dropof disappointment hissed on the flames. “So you’re busy every day?”
    â€œ
Ja
. But you can come watch me race if you like. It’s not far, about half an hour’s drive from yours.”
    My mother walked past with an empty bottle and put it in the bin.
    â€œYeah. I’ll ask my mum,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t. “Sounds like a plan.”
    I put the phone down. Now my mother was out on the veranda again, sighing as she picked up the paperback I could tell she wasn’t really reading. She caught me looking at her, and suddenly pretended not to be sad, and waved.
    I waved back, then slipped away to my room because there was nothing else to do. I took out my atlas again and looked up Britain, and found comfort by running my finger over the names of places I knew.

SEVEN
    Our second term
.
    The counting of weeks started all over again. June arrived and autumn became winter.
    It was another boring Sunday and we were sitting in our study room, drinking Milo for warmth. No one wanted to go out because a thick
guti
had been hanging around all morning and you could barely see twenty meters before the damp air turned everything gray.
    â€œ
Ja
, and do you remember the convoys?” Ivan talked toward the ceiling, tipping his chair right back and popping jelly babies into his mouth.
    He and De Klomp were reminiscing about the war and they were letting me listen. Ivan let me do a lot of things these days. Nelson had been given special leave to go training almost every weekend, so he never seemed to be around anymore, plus I think even Ivan felt sympathy for the amount of attention Greet was still giving me.
    â€œWhenever we went on dirt roads my old man would get the first black he saw and make him sit on the hood,because he said they all knew where the land mines were. A lot of them didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Some of them shat themselves.”
    He gave me a wink. Despite the cold, we were in good moods. It was hard not to get excited before half-term weekend, and this term seemed to be going so much quicker than the first.
    At that moment Simpson-Prior came into the room. Normally I would have said “Howzit” but Ivan had warned us that some pictures of
Scope
babes had been found in his locker and so all the seniors were calling him “Prior the Wire-Puller” now. It wasn’t good to get too close to someone branded with a nickname like that in case it rubbed off.
    I decided now was a good time to venture out and make the phone call I had to make.
    â€œ
Masikati
, Weekend. Three six six five, please.”
    â€œAh, and good afternoon to you, Mastah Rhrob-ett. How are you today,
shamwari
?” The handset was light with Weekend’s friendly voice.
    â€œGood, thanks. Looking forward to going home. And how are
you
, my friend?”
    He made a long, drawn-out tutting sound by sucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. I was smiling already.
    â€œWell, you know, today my wife is ver-ry very unhappy with me, and my girlfriend is also talking no longer with me, either.”
    â€œReally? You know how girls are.” I didn’t. “Give them time.”
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œDid you do anything wrong?” I could practically hear the waft of innocence being thrown up into the air. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
    â€œThank you, Mastah Rhrob-ett. Perhaps you are right. I shall put you through.”
    Click. Hum. Then a