Love And War Season 1

Chapter 2

SEBENTILE

"Have fun tonight," I nod, opening the door. "Sebe!" he shouts just as I'm about to close it behind me.

"Yes, sir?" I ask, peeping my head back in. He's already on his feet, his towering frame making my heart skip a beat.

"About tonight, do you have clothes or money?" he asks, stepping closer. My eyes can't help but notice how imposing he is. I swallow hard.

"Uhm... No, sir, angiyi (I'm not going)."

"Why not?"

"I just don't feel like it."

"Go, I insist," he says, pulling out his wallet and handing me R1000.

"No, sir, I can't take this."

He shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I want you to be like other kids."

I look at the money, knowing Bulo would be thrilled if I joined her. Plus, I've never been out partying before, and tonight's our pens down. Everyone's going except me.

"Thank you, sir," I say, slipping the money into my backpack.

"Till we meet again," he says as I close the door. I say nothing, feeling a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

"I was sure you guys were having sex," Bulo says as I reach her, and I laugh.

"Uyahlanya (you're crazy)."

"Benentani vele? (What were you guys doing?)"

"Nothing that concerns you. Just joking, he gave me money to go to the pens down."

She screams so loud, jumping up and down, immediately planning our outfits. Her happiness is infectious, and I can't help but smile.

"Well, don't you girls look proper?" Bulo's mother asks as she enters Bulo's room. Bulo, or Nonjabulo, has both parents who adore her. She's the middle child and the only girl. Her older brother Sihle lives on his own, and her younger brother Mthokoziso is nine. Her family has always been supportive and had my back, and I'm grateful. We decided to get dressed at her house since it's more decent.

"Please be safe and call Sihle to fetch you," her mother says. We both nod in agreement.

"Okay, have fun." She hugs us and kisses our cheeks before leaving.

"Your mom is the best, yati," I say to Bulo, and she smiles.

"She's your mom too, you know?"

"Ngiyati (I know)."

"Let's go knock them out." We take a few pictures with her phone—a Samsung Grand Prime. I have a Mobicel, which takes pictures as if you were painted. I'm wearing a floral loose short sleeveless jumpsuit that Bulo chose, with sandals, and she tied my hair into a bun—well, forced it into a bun. I must say, I look good with my brown lipstick on. Bulo is in jeans, a black loose vest, and black kicks. We might live in a rural area, but every place has a tavern, and that's where our pens down is. By the time we arrive, it's already packed.

"I don't know about this," I say to Bulo, who looks at me as if I'm crazy.

"It's too crowded in here, I can't. Plus, this thing is too short, angeke." I turn back and start walking away. Bulo runs after me, screaming for me to stop. I bump into someone.

"Ncesi (sorry)," I say without looking. When I glance up, it's Sabelo, our annoying school president, with his crew beside him. I turn to walk in the opposite direction, but he grabs my arm.

"Where are you going, sweets?" he asks. I look at him, then at my arm.

"Ngicela ungiyeke (Please let me go)."

He releases me, a smirk on his face. "Iyakufanela lentfo loyigcokile (This thing you're wearing suits you)."

I feel violated by his comment and say nothing, walking away with Bulo following me.

"Singahamba nawufuna (We can go if you want)," she offers.

The first thing that comes to mind is yes, let's go, but I can't do that to her. She's bent over backwards for me more times than I can remember. It would be cruel not to do this for her.

"It's fine, we can stay."

Her face lights up. "Really?"

"Yes."

She hugs me. "Thank you! Thank you!" She takes my hand, and we walk back inside.

That's what friends do for each other, right? They get comfortable in uncomfortable positions for those who have had their backs. A few hours won't hurt.

GUGULEZWE

As I head out to meet the guys, my parents' car pulls up.

"Gugu!" Mom shouts out the window, her voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

"Mom, I can't stay. I'll be back later," I reply, waving her off as I walk away.

"If you go through with this mission, you'll end up in prison!" Mom's voice is laced with worry. I freeze in my tracks as she gets out of the car, her concern written all over her face.

"I know what you've been up to. So far, you've been playing it safe, but letting that kid into my house? Call the mission off!" Mom's eyes bore into me with a fierce determination. It's like she can see right through me. I don't know how she knows what she knows, but she's spot-on.

"Mom, I don't know what you're talking about," I chuckle nervously, trying to brush it off.

"So, you know nothing about a possible robbery at China Mall tonight? You won't mind staying home and cooking, right?" Her arms are folded, her stance as firm as an oak tree. How do I get out of this? How does she even know all of this?

"Mom, I've got plans tonight," I say, scratching my head, desperately searching for an escape.

"Gugu, I know you. You're my son," she says, her tone softening but still insistent. I sigh deeply.

"If you go through with this, you'll end up in prison. I'd like for my son to go somewhere with his life, meet the woman of his dreams, and just be," she says, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. I love this woman with all my heart. The last thing I want is to disappoint her.

"Mom—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"I love you, but if you go through with this, you're on your own!" she says firmly before turning and walking back into the house. I pull out my phone and dial Dylan's number.

"Dylan," I say when he picks up.

"Ekse, my broer," he replies, sounding pumped up.

"I hope you're ready for tonight," he adds, his excitement palpable.

"Listen, shiit came up," I say, my voice heavy with regret.

"Nie man, nie!" Dylan curses, clearly pissed off.

"Mom's sick, and Dad's in the rurals. Let's do this another day," I explain, trying to diffuse his anger.

"We can do this without you, broer," he threatens, his voice hard.

"You can try, but we both know you'll lose! Shut it down," I reply, ending the call before he can argue further. I walk back inside and find Mom in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the precision of a surgeon.

"Need help?" I ask, hoping to ease the tension.

"Shower first, then we'll talk," she replies without looking up. How does my mother know everything?

I head to my room to bathe, the hot water soothing my nerves. When I'm done, I go back to the kitchen, where Dad's absence is noted.

"So?" I ask, sitting on the high chair, trying to sound casual.

"What do you want to know?" Mom asks, her tone nonchalant as she continues her culinary preparations.

"How do you know what you know?" I press, the curiosity gnawing at me.