Best Stories from Around the World by Deepa Agarwal

Author:Deepa Agarwal [Agarwal, Deepa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mobilism
Publisher: Rupa Publications
Published: 2017-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

The Dare

Beverley Naidoo

MARIKA THRUST the glass jar up to Veronica’s face.

‘See this one Nicky!’ she declared. ‘Caught it last week!’ Veronica stared at the coiled brown shape slithering inside the greenish liquid. She felt sick.

‘You should have seen how blinking quick I was, man! This sort are poisonous!’

Marika’s eyes pinned her down, watching for a reaction. She didn’t know which were worse. Marika’s or those of the dead creature in the jar.

‘Where did you find it?’

Her voice did not betray her and Marika began her dramatic tale about tracking the snake in the bougainvillea next to the hen-run.

It was a valuable addition to her collection. Rows of bottles, all with the same green liquid, lined the shelf above her bed. Spiders and insects of various shapes and sizes floated safely, serenely, inside. Marika carefully replaced the snake next to another prize item—a one-legged chameleon, its colours dulled and fixed. Veronica remembered it alive. It had been the farm children’s pet briefly until they had got tired of capturing flies for it. She had even helped one whole Saturday, prowling around the cowshed, sneaking up and snapping the overfed blue-buzzers in cigarette tins. The next morning Marika and her brothers had decided to let the creature go free and get its own dinner. But when they had come to release the catch of the splintering old wood-and-wire hutch, the chameleon lay stiff and still. The three boys had wanted to make a special grave down in the donga—but in the end Marika had persuaded them to let her preserve it.

The farm, a small-holding owned by Marika’s parents, lay against a mountain in the middle of the Magaliesburg. As well as growing fruit and vegetables and keeping a few animals, the van Reenens let out a small cottage on the farm, mostly to city visitors. It was near enough to Johannesburg for Mr and Mrs Martin with their only child Veronica to get away from the ever-increasing hustle for short breaks. They were regulars, coming two or three times a year. In fact Mr Martin had been visiting since he was a child, when Marika’s mother herself had been a small girl on the same farm. Veronica’s own memories of the place stretched back for as long as she could remember. For years she and Marika had played ‘house’ in the donga behind the farmhouse. They had used larger stones for the walls, shifting around smaller stones as the furniture. In the past Veronica used to bring all her dolls, despite her mother’s protests. Sensing Marika’s envy, she had enjoyed saying which dolls could be played with. But since Marika’s tenth birthday things were different.

Veronica had been taken by surprise. She had been sitting with the farm children on the wall of the stoep, dangling her legs and kicking the brickwork with her heels like the others. Marika had been telling her about her birthday treat when Veronica had suggested that they go to the donga.

‘Hey, the girls are going to play dollies!’ Marika’s twin brother Piet had sneered.

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