THE ORDER OF KORES

Drie

I fiddled with the Mugg & Bean cup of 'iced Muggachino', as I swung my feet back and forth, sitting on a high chair and looking out into the busy mall. People were walking up and down, most with shopping bags, and others with their large groups of friends. I spotted a team of Emirates flight attendants strolling by, heading towards the hotel across the street, and I spotted a homeless man walking and shaking his hand as he begged for cents from whoever would give him. Most people turned a blind eye and he kept it on, until a security guard approached him and chased him away.

I frowned at that, but looked away.

"You people watching again?" I heard a sweet voice interrupt my favourite activity and I turned my head to look at my best friend, Amahle. I smiled at her and watched as she took the high chair next to me with her own coffee.

"Always," I told her as I handed her, her matching tote bag with her laptop and a few notebooks. She accepted it and set it on the table as we both began sipping our drinks, in the middle of a March day.

We did this whenever we just wrote a test, we got into one of our cars and drove off campus and went to get a drink or two to properly digest the day. "If caffeine doesn't kill me, I'm telling you criminal law will because what the fuck was that test?" Ama asked me as she flipped her sleek long black hair over her shoulder and peered into my eyes with an incredulous look.

I laughed, recounting the paper in my mind.

It had been a horrible test, one I was certain I had failed. In fact, I wanted to cry because I hated feeling as I did at the moment.

I met her soft brown eyes, and looked over her features. Ama looked like the lawyer that she was studying to become. She came from a law family, both parents lawyers, oldest brother a judge, and she was chasing after that dream to make them happy, but really she just wanted to be a singer. She had soft beige skin due to her mother being white, and her dad being a black man. She had long beautiful eyelashes, and she had three beauty spots. She had this soft and beautiful toned voice and she was such a cool kid. She was wearing her WITS sweater with a denim mini skirt, and her matching WITS tote bag. She never ceased to remind people that she was a witsie.

But I didn't blame her, because I was the same too. Wits was a big deal, and a social status, so showing off that you were going there always left a sweet taste in your mouth. I was dressed in a matching WITS sweater, and a pair of denim shorts that reached before my knees. I wore it with a pair of brown pointy heel boots that I bought from Versace.

Ama and I were opposites, Ama was the kind of girl who loved to be all glammed up and pretty and fancy and have on shiny diamonds. She had sleek black long hair, her nails were long and perfectly manicured using crystals, she didn't wear makeup because she didn't need it, and she chased the flashy things of life.

While I on the other hand, wore whatever my soul called for. I had my hair in a large and impressive afro that I'd been growing for almost ten years. I wore mostly earth tones when I got dressed, and I wore pieces of art on me. I wore earrings that I bought from those Zimbabwean ladies who sell jewellery on the side of the road, and my jewellery was always authentic to who I felt I was.

"That was a pretty rough test," I let out in a sad breath as we both fell silent again and I went back to looking at people outside. "Remember that art gallery I was telling you about–"

"Er-er, the one on Friday right?" she confirmed, stammering, trying to remember when I told her it was taking place.

I nodded my head, "yes, that one. The one in Brooklyn. I got us tickets, I think you'll like it. This guy makes amazing art, his is name is Nonhlanhla and he once created this piece made of recycled colddrink cans, and it sold for R300, 000." I told her, repeating the same story over and over, because of how much I loved this guy's work.