Chapter One

-18 Years Later-

“Listen, you must call us every night. And Nkosana, take care of your sister.” My dad says for the seventeenth time already.

“Excuse me? I’m older.” I say.

“Yes, yes we know. But still, take care of each other and come home as much as you like, okay?” he says again before pulling me in for a tight squeeze. I think the other students are probably talking about us by now, what with two siblings being dropped off by four people who really don’t want to leave. I mean, we’re just starting university and we’re not very far from home, either.

“Don’t blow your allowances, okay? Spend the money wisely and focus on your school work. Got it?” my stepmom says, she’s still clutching onto Nkosana who really looks like he wants to break free of his mother’s grip because she’s embarrassing him in front of all of his potential crushes. She realises this and pulls him in for a hug before letting him go.

“You see how all of these people are looking at our cars? Don’t go telling girls that you have money, Nkosana. You don’t.” his dad says.

“What girls?” Nkosana says, trying to downplay the whole thing.

“Okay, you two go in and get settled. Call us if you need anything. And Ntando, uhlukane nabafana siyezwana?” my mom says, unsuccessfully pulling my skirt down.

“Ma, come on.” I say, pulling away from her. “We’ll be fine, go. You’re attracting so much attention.”

“Okay, okay. We’re leaving. Love you.” Nkosana’s mom says before she and Nkosana’s dad get into their car and my parents get into theirs. They drive off eventually. Finally, my life can begin.

Not many 19-year-olds want to start university at the same time as their younger step-brother, but I had no choice. Nkosana and I grew up like twins, even though I’m a year older than him. So, it came as no surprise that we’d end up going to the same schools and the same university and living in the same flat. Our parents got us a flat opposite one of the residences because they wanted us to live together – which we couldn’t do at a residence – and they wanted us to live comfortably. I’m not complaining, really. I mean, yes, I don’t actually want to live with my 18-year-old step-brother but I’ll take this two-bedroom, two-bathroom unit with a fully-furnished lounge and kitchen over some matchbox at some res anytime. I’m a bit of a brat, this I know, although I really shouldn’t be one. I mean, my mother is a housewife and my father has a normal nine-to-five on top of running a taxi business for Nkosana’s mom. Nkosana’s parents are the ones who finance my love for nice things. Honestly, they’ve tried very hard to hide that from us but it’s kind of obvious. Nkosana and I don’t mind, though, because we live comfortably regardless of where we are. And now we are in a flat all alone.

“So, what are we gonna do for food?” Nkosana asks me once we’re done unpacking.

“I’ll get something on Uber Eats for tonight then tomorrow morning we’ll go shopping.” I say, switching on the TV.

*****

Wits University, one of the most prestigious institutions our country has to offer – even in 2039.

“Well, this is where we go our separate ways, Sis. See you later.” Nkosana says when we get off the Uber. Yes, we used an Uber instead of the campus bus. I’m sure once we have timetables and we travel at separate times, Nkosana the socialite would have established a squad already and he’ll be taking the bus. I, however, will not be caught dead on that bus. He and I are literally at opposite ends of campus. He’s studying architecture – following in his parents’ footsteps in the world of property – and I am studying dramatic arts and performance theatre, just as expected of the family drama queen. I’m a really fantastic actress, though, even if I say so myself. This campus is huge, I feel like I’ve been walking forever before I get to the right building. It’s so full, so busy but in the midst of it all, I locate a notice board that says “GENERAL” at the top. As I try to read the multiple class schedules that have been stapled onto this board, I get a whiff of the same perfume that I have on… but it can’t be coming from me, everybody knows you use Chanel sparingly (especially if you’re an unemployed 19-year-old who needs to prove that she’s responsible so she can keep getting expensive things). It’s coming from this girl on my left.

“Hi.” She flashes me a wide smile. “First year?” she asks. I smile and nod. “Come with me, I took a picture of that thing. You really don’t want to get caught up in a stampede in those shoes.” She giggles. Okay, she’s a giggler. A pretty one, though. I follow her to a lecture hall… the one all first years are supposed to gather in by 8am for our briefing. There are only a few people in here so we’re able to find seats quite easily.

“I’m Katie.” She says with her hand outstretched for a shake.

“Ntando. Nice to meet you, Katie.” I say, shaking her hand. She’s light-skinned with small facial features and a nose ring. She has her hair in cornrows. I think she’s coloured. “Katie? Is that your real name?”

“Yes.” She giggles. “You can call me Katherine when I’m a granny. For now, it’s Katie.”

“I couldn’t help but notice your perfume.” I say.

“I noticed yours, honey. You know what they say about birds of a feather. So, Ntando, are you from around here?” she asks. Hmm, straight to the nitty-gritties I see.

“I grew up in Jo’burg but I do have a home in KZN. And you?” this is me still trying to figure out her ethnicity because she doesn’t have an accent… well she does, but it’s the same as mine. It’s that private school accent.

“Born and raised in East London. It’s my first time in Johannesburg, actually. Are you staying at home or at res?”

The room is filling up now, it’s almost 8. The lecturer – I assume – is also there setting up.

“Neither. My parents got a flat for my brother and I.” I say. She nods with a bright smile on her face. I think we’re done talking now because she fixates her eyes on the woman standing in front of us. Could I have just made my first varsity friend?

I made three other friends by midday. I also came to the sad realisation that I have classes until three on a Monday. Only on a Monday. Tuesdays are ten o’clock to one o’clock, Thursdays are nine o’clock to one o’clock and Fridays are twelve to one. I have Wednesdays off. The timetable doesn’t suck so much but Mondays are just long. Right now, my newly-found squad and I are having lunch and trying to understand each other and the course that we’re doing. In addition to Katie – who is Xhosa by the way – there’s Thuto and Thabang, two best friends from the Free State who thought hanging out with Katie and I would earn them some street cred. Apparently, we’re the prettiest girls they’d seen so they just had to hang out with us. Then there’s our big sister, Litha who is 25 and only enrolled for a degree in performance theatre this year because she spent the last few years obtaining a degree in education like her mother wanted her to. She doesn’t look 25, though, nor does she behave like she’s older than us so it’s easy for all of us to gel.

“So Ntando, you rich-rich huh?” Litha asks.

“Yeah, too good for res even.” Katie says. I just shake my head and laugh. These people. I mean, Katie is wearing the same perfume as me so there’s really no way that she can be broke.

“Where is home, anyway?” Thuto asks.

“I have two homes. One in Sandhurst and one in Bedfordview. But primarily, I’m with my parents in Sandhurst because it’s closer to Sandton City.” I say, trying very hard not to sound like I’m gloating.

“So, if your parents live in Sandhurst then who lives in Bedfordview?” Thuto asks. These people, so inquisitive. We’ve literally only just met.

“My step-parents.” I say and sip on my juice. I think that’s a clear indication that this conversation is over. But I know it won’t be over for long judging by the confused looks on their faces. I don’t know why but I just don’t like getting into detail about my family dynamic. It’s tiring to see people look at me like I come from a family of weirdos. Yes, Nkosana and I don’t share a parent but his mom and my dad are married even though his mom is also married to his dad and my dad is also married to my mom. We’re a family, okay? You don’t need to understand it.

It's almost twenty-past three when I get to the flat, exhausted from my first day in varsity and answering the 500 questions my friends had about my life. Surely, tomorrow we’ll interrogate someone else. Right now, I’m exhausted and would like to throw myself on the couch while binging on junk food and series. But I can’t because I am immediately greeted by an unfamiliar face on said couch. He’s sitting with Nkosana, but he really looks a little older. Then again, one of my friends is older than me.

“We’ve been here for one day and you’re already bringing people over?” I ask Nkosana, completely disregarding his guest.

“Don’t be rude, it’s not like we’re sitting on your bed. Besides, this guy over here is my mentor.” He says, both of them stuffing their faces with Doritos and watching some or other action movie. A cliché of note!

“Your mentor?”

“Sbu is in his final year of architectural studies. We met today, got along and he decided that on top of us being friends, he’d also help me out with the course.”

Oh, how nice of him. Look at Nkosana already making friends in high places. He’s just like his parents, they value having connections. I just roll my eyes and walk past them to my room. I guess I’ll watch series on my laptop then. Although Nkosana can be an inconsiderate idiot, I must admit that his friend is crazy cute. Like really crazy cute. With a deep voice that keeps distracting me from my series. I spend about two hours pretending to watch this thing before I decide that I’m hungry. Of course, the friend is still here.

“What are we having for dinner, Nkosana?” I ask him and to my surprise, his friend – Sbu – answers.

“Would you mind cooking for us, MaZwane?” he asks. My eyes literally bulge, what is he even talking about? He doesn’t live here so he doesn’t get to ask me to cook and he doesn’t even have a share in the food we eat.

“Angizwanga?” is all I manage to say, looking straight at him.

“I’m just as confused as you are, Sis, I thought we were going to order pizza.” Nkosana says, looking at Sbu.

“Oh cha, ngiyaxolisa. Pizza is fine.” Sbu says. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me and I think Nkosana sees it, too because he immediately nudges him and changes the subject. I walk back into my room. What the hell is happening here? I’m in my room for about thirty minutes before I hear a knock and Nkosana sticks his head in through the door.

“Care to join me for dinner?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Where’s your perverted, chauvinistic friend?” I ask.

“He’s gone. Come, we’ll eat and watch your favourite series. Plus, I got your favourite pizza.” He says. Okay, he really is apologising for his friend’s behaviour. Let me throw him a bone. Nkosana and I have a strong bond… like that of real biological siblings. Maybe it’s because we were raised like twins, almost inseparable. It’s nice that we can sit like this and have dinner in front of the TV and share in good conversation and a good laugh like we do when we’re at home. Now all we’re missing is our little sister – well, Nkosana’s little sister – Nonhle. She’s not that much younger, she’s 15-going-on-16 and the three of us have awesome times together. It’s in this moment that I think I might just survive doing this varsity thing with my little bro