Unravelled. Cheryl Ntumy S.

soon. I have to hire research assistants from the university before then. God, I’m knackered.”

      I frown at him. “Let me at least make you a proper breakfast, Dad – you can’t survive on coffee.”

      He shakes his head and goes to fetch his briefcase from the dining room table. “I have a meeting at eight – got to prepare. See you later, love.”

      I frown as he heads out. After breakfast I turn on the radio while I wait for Lebz. Auntie Lydia comes in at quarter to seven, her petite frame buried under bags of sewing material. She runs a tailoring business on the side, but I can’t remember the last time she brought this much work with her. I hurry to open the door for her.

      “Wow,” I marvel as she dumps the lot on the dining table. “Are you opening a shop?”

      She laughs. “I have a lot of orders this week. Is your father gone?”

      I nod. “You just missed him. Any messages?”

      “It’s nothing…” Her sigh says otherwise. “He forgot to pay me yesterday.”

      I rummage around on the dining table where Dad usually leaves Auntie Lydia’s pay, but there’s no sign of an envelope. “He must have forgotten all about it. He’s been really busy. Should I call and remind him?”

      She shakes her head and pats my arm. “I’ll call his office later. Aren’t you going to be late? Where’s Malebogo?”

      “I don’t know.” I reach into my pocket for my phone and check the time. “She’s usually here by now. I’m sure she’s on the way.”

      Auntie Lydia goes off to clean the kitchen and I stand on the doorstep, watching the road. Finally I see Lebz hurrying towards the house, scarlet braids flying behind her. Students at the Syringa Institute of Excellence aren’t allowed “unnatural” hair styles, but the teachers can’t seem to agree on how to define “unnatural”, so people like Lebz get away with anything.

      She lifts the latch on the front gate and pushes it open, then runs up the driveway, leaving the gate wide open behind her as usual. The gate, I tell her silently. She comes to an abrupt stop, turns around and goes back to close the gate. Being a telepath comes in very handy sometimes.

      “News!” she squeals, almost knocking me over as she bolts into the house.

      Only a boy could get Lebz this excited. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Can we go? We’re late already.”

      She dashes into the kitchen to say hello to Lydia, then runs back and grabs my arm. Her nails are blue today, but I bet not a single teacher will notice. “Connie, oh my God! You will not believe Kelly’s new boyfriend.”

      Oh, a double whammy – a boy and Kelly, Lebz’s buxom, brainless role model. I drag her towards the road. “Let me guess – his father owns half the country.”

      “I have no idea who his father is, but who cares?” She sighs and releases my arm so she can clasp her hands together in rapture. “Connie! He’s so hot. I mean…so, so, so hot. Damn! I have never seen anyone so cute in my whole life. And get this – there are more of them!”

      “More boyfriends?” I arch my eyebrows. I thought Kelly was more of a serial monogamist, but I’m always looking for new reasons to dislike her.

      Lebz makes an exasperated noise in her throat. “More hot boys! A whole group of them; six, and they are all good-looking. All of them! Do you know how rare that is? A bunch of guys who hang out together and are all the same level of hotness?”

      I roll my eyes. “Wow. A biological miracle.”

      She slaps my arm impatiently. “Don’t you think this is a little bit weird?”

      There’s something about the way she says that last word that grabs my attention. “Strange weird or freaky weird?”

      She raises her eyebrows. OK – freaky weird. As in “too strange to be a coincidence; must be supernatural” weird. I ignore the neighbourhood scenery and the other kids making their way to school.

      “Come on. What’s freaky about a bunch of cute boys? Maybe they’re related.”

      “They are, but still.” She heaves a weary sigh and shakes her head. “Choma, listen to me. There are cute boys, and then there are cute boys. The Cresta Crew are unnaturally hot and charming. All of them. I repeat – all of them.”

      I snicker. “What are they, a boy band? Were they discovered at Cresta Lodge or something?”

      “Cresta, Johannesburg,” Lebz explains impatiently. “They lived there before coming here, so people started calling them the Cresta Crew.”

      I’m not allowed to read the minds of my friends, but I take a quick peek just to see if she really believes there’s something off about these guys. I barely have to scratch the surface to sense her unease, even though it’s mixed up with a good deal of excitement. “OK. I’m listening.”

      We’ve reached Syringa, and we make our way to our bench. Wiki, our third musketeer, is already there, going over yesterday’s Business Studies homework.

      He glances up at us, round glasses magnifying his eyes. “Hello, ladies. What’s new?”

      “Lebz is convinced that Kelly’s latest conquest is a member of a gang of freaks,” I report, slumping onto the bench beside him.

      “Ah,” he replies with a nod, and goes right back to his homework.

      “So this is the story,” says Lebz, warming to her subject. “These six guys all decided to leave South Africa together. They arrived about a week ago and they’ve been flirting their way across town. Now Spencer – that’s Kelly’s man – is the hottest. He met Kelly at a party and they’ve been inseparable ever since. This morning she emailed me his photo – that’s why I got to your place late – and I nearly died. I’d never actually seen one of them until now. Connie! I’m telling you, my heart stopped.”

      “So what are you thinking?” I reach into my bag for my water bottle and take a sip. “They’ve taken some kind of potion that makes them gorgeous?”

      She shrugs. “You’re the expert. I just think these guys are too good to be true. And Kelly has dated a lot of incredible guys. She’s not easily impressed, but Spencer has her completely under his spell – not that I blame her.”

      “Hmm,” I reply, in my no-nonsense supernatural detective tone. “I’ll look into it.”

      “Be careful,” she warns me. “Rumour has it that those guys can make any girl fall in love with them.”

      I laugh. Unless they’re duplicates of Rakwena, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. Not that I’m in love with Rakwena. I just mean… Never mind. The point is I’m glad to have a potential mystery on my hands. Time to put all those months of practice to use. With any luck, the Cresta Crew will turn out to be nothing more than a bunch of boys with good genes and even better game. But if they’re not, I’ll find out.

      **

      “So what do you think?”

      I follow Rakwena up the steep cement road that twists from the quarry to the top of Kgale Hill. I’m out of breath, but it’s a vast improvement to how I felt the first time I let Rakwena drag me up the hill. I don’t know how he convinced me to make this hike a Sunday morning ritual, but we hardly ever miss a week.

      “I think you should do more walking and less talking,” he replies impatiently.

      “Come on, help me out here. Do you think Lebz is being paranoid about these guys?”

      “Lebz is being Lebz.” The disdain in his voice is palpable, and a little offensive. I thought he liked Lebz. He stops to open his bag, hands me a bottle of water and takes a swig from his two-litre bottle of barely diluted Oros. “She thinks her garden shed