The Mandela Plot by Kenneth Bonert

Author:Kenneth Bonert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

If Not Now

43

Back at school on Monday morning, the okes are all jabbering about Saturday night at the clubs. The poonie that was pulled. The shots of flaming sambuca downed. The legend rorts—the instant-classic fights—witnessed. Schnitz is the biggest talker, according to him he was the last person to leave the Thunderdome at dawn and stepping out he saw with his own eyes a naked man standing on the roof of a moving Mercedes 500SEC, swear to God, riding it exactly like a Durban surfer on a bladdy wave. Me, I’m standing in the doorway watching this when Stan Lippenshmecker notices and looks around and everyone else turns and the class goes quiet. I walk past my usual desk, saying nothing, and take a new seat by myself in the corner. I get a book out and bury my nose in it. Gradually the jabbering starts again.

Between classes I stay in my corner desk. At first break I head for the library, but outside big-headed Spunny is waiting. He sticks his hands in his pockets and watches his shoes. “Nice to see you’re oright,” he says.

I say, “Where’s your chicken friend Mouth? Running practice? You should go join him.”

Spunny flushes. “Hey. I’m just saying I’m glad you okay.”

“I’m not,” I tell him. “I’ve been in hospital. I had emergency surgery. My testicles are all messed up from what happened. The doctors say I’ll never have kids.”

“Jesus Christ!” says Spunny. Then his eyes crinkle. “Ach, you bullshitting. You fine, you never went to hospital.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you bothered to check up on me.”

“Charity, there was stuff-all we could have done, man.”

“You could have gone for help. Could’ve stayed and tried to find out what happened to me at least. So could the rest of the okes, having their nice fun at Thunderdome. Could have phoned my parents. Stead you pissed off and left me to get murdered in an alley.”

“Hey, check—you didn’t have to run over to those bouncers, china. We told you not to.”

Now I feel myself flushing. “Ja, it’s all my fault. I deserved.”

“Be that way if you want, Martin. We were tryna be nice, inviting you with us to the clubs. Maybe the others are right about you.”

As he walks away I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle hard. “Hey, big hero!” He turns and I lift my shirt, showing my stomach with its purple bruise the size of a cabbage. Then I pull a zap sign with my middle finger.

When Annie picks me up in the night I can see how nervous she is. She tells me she’s checked the weather forecast like a million times and when we get to the pipe she just about vomits before she can bring herself to climb in. But the climb up goes smoothly. In the video lab we work hard together, editing down the Fireseed tape to ninety minutes, and when we’re finished she hugs me, all happy. I try to kiss her neck, but she jumps up.

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