Unravelled. Cheryl Ntumy S.

possessed by a crazy sorcerer will do that to you.

      Amantle’s clique was in serious trouble back then. Me and my friends assumed Amantle was the Puppetmaster’s prize pupil, since she was the leader of the clique. Discovering that it had been Emily all along was a huge shock. Rose, the sweetest member of the group, was the one who let me into her head first so I could break the Puppetmaster’s grip. She has since moved to South Africa, where she’s managed to steer clear of snooty girlfriends and sorcerers.

      Lebz leaps up to go and lavish praise on her idol, then changes her mind and sinks back onto the stone bench. “They’re coming over!”

      I stare in surprise. I can’t remember the last time Kelly so much as looked in my direction. Despite her friendship with Lebz she goes out of her way to ignore me, as if she thinks she might catch something if she says hello. But here she comes, with a determined look on her face and a grinning Amantle beside her.

      “Hi, guys!” says Amantle brightly. “How’s it going?”

      Wiki raises his head to offer a weary greeting.

      “Hi,” Lebz gushes. “Wow, Kelly, your hair looks so nice today!”

      I refrain from rolling my eyes and turn my attention to Amantle. “Hey.” I grin at her. “What’s up?”

      Kelly takes over. She reaches into her bag and produces a fistful of little purple envelopes, then hands them to Amantle. “I’m having a little get-together this weekend,” she purrs, in the husky voice that hypnotizes Syringa’s male population.

      “That’s so cool.” That’s Lebz, gushing again.

      Amantle picks through the envelopes until she finds the ones she’s looking for. She hands one to Lebz.

      “It’s at my place,” Kelly continues, with a flash of perfect teeth. “Friday night.”

      “I’ll be there,” Lebz promises, as if there was ever any doubt.

      Amantle pulls out two more envelopes. She hands one to Wiki and one to me. I look down and see my name typed on it in black ink. I raise my eyebrows at Amantle.

      “Connie’s invited?” Lebz blurts out, echoing my surprise.

      Kelly opens her mouth to speak, but Amantle beats her to it. “Of course.”

      This must be her idea – Kelly doesn’t even know my name. Amantle and I aren’t close, but we share the sort of bond only a supernatural crisis can form.

      “Anyway,” says Kelly, eager to get back to the topic at hand, “it’s a China-themed party so you have to dress up.”

      Wiki and I exchange surreptitious glances. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s too good to resist. I look up at Kelly. “Can I come as a chopstick?”

      Her expression is priceless; one side of her face is trying to smile politely while the other side is determined to reveal her disdain. “Um, no. You’re supposed to wear…you know…red and black, martial artsy stuff, Mandarin collars and stuff with dragons. Obviously.”

      I can’t read Kelly’s mind – supposedly because my dislike of her has created a psychic barrier – but I don’t need telepathy to know that she thinks I’m insane and probably dangerous. I nod, revelling in her discomfort. Serves her right for throwing a culturally insensitive party. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lebz glaring at me.

      “Thanks,” she simpers. “We’ll be there.”

      “Cool.” Kelly sashays away and Amantle waves goodbye and follows.

      “That was strange,” remarks Wiki. “Connie, are you actually going?”

      “Why not?” I turn the invitation over in my hands, amazed that anyone has the time to get things like this professionally printed.

      “It’s Kelly’s party,” he reminds me. “You can’t stand her.”

      I give him a serene smile. “I’m learning to be more tolerant. Besides, it’s the perfect opportunity for me to meet this Spencer character and his Cresta Crew. I’ll blend into the crowd, talk to a few people, pick up some clues.”

      Lebz snorts loudly. “You? Blend into the crowd at a party? You’ll need an extreme makeover for that.” Her eyes light up.

      “Forget it,” I tell her firmly. “The last time you dressed me up for a party I almost ended up as the latest name in Thuli’s little black book, remember?”

      She falls silent and shrinks into the bench. Yep, she remembers. Who could forget? I try not to think about the agonizing moments I spent in Thuli’s room, but every time I see him I feel a painful stab of panic. He’s doing Form Six at Syringa, and there are only a few more months before he leaves to terrorise some unsuspecting university.

      Lebz is still trying to disappear into the bench, and Wiki is biting his lip nervously. Even though the “incident” happened last year, they still tiptoe around it as if they’re afraid any mention of it will send me over the edge. I guess I could have reported it but I knew there was no way I’d win that battle, not against Thuli’s father’s money and influence. Someday, somehow, that freak-hunter will get what he deserves. Right now, though, I have other things on my mind.

      “Do you think Kelly would mind if I brought Rakwena?”

      “Yes,” my friends chorus, as I knew they would.

      I scowl. “Fine. It’s not like he’d want to come to a stupid party anyway – he’s in university now.” I know it’s silly to feel smug about this, but I do. I’m proud of Rakwena. He’s going to wipe the floor with all those fresh-faced UB students, and when he’s a rich and smarmy physicist I’m going to be one of those insufferable gushing girlfriends.

      Lebz rolls her eyes as the bell goes. She gets up and pulls me to my feet. “Forget about your wonderful boyfriend and focus on what’s really important.”

      “What’s that?” asks Wiki, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder.

      “What she’s going to wear to the party!”

      Wiki and I exchange amused glances and the three of us make our way to class.

      ***

      By Tuesday everyone is talking about Kelly’s party, Kelly’s boyfriend and Kelly’s unexpected approval of that strange girl in Form Five (me). I don’t think I’ve had this many glances cast my way in all my years at Syringa. Suddenly people think they should start paying attention to me because the most popular girl in school has invited me to her party. How ridiculous is that?

      “Connie, you’re cool,” says Lebz in wonder as we eat our lunch.

      Some girls I’ve never spoken to walk past us and smile. I stare at them, my mouth full of hot dog. “I was always cool,” I remind Lebz, when I’ve swallowed and the groupies are gone.

      “Yes, but now you’re super-cool.” She beams. “Everyone wants to know why you’re suddenly part of Kelly’s crew. You’re mysterious and interesting.”

      “For now,” I mutter, taking a sip of water. I will admit I have a newfound respect for Kelly. Well, sort of. Anyone who can put up with such nonsense on a daily basis must be made of strong stuff.

      To my relief, by the end of the school day I’m no longer “super-cool”. It might have been the way Kelly walked right past me outside the tuck-shop that clued everyone in. As I pass a group of Form Two girls on my way down the corridor, I hear them whispering.

      “No, she’s not actually friends with Kelly. She’s just sort of friends with Amantle, and you know Amantle is like a sister to Kelly, so she had to invite her.”

      “I heard last year she saved Amantle’s life.”

      “I heard she killed that sangoma who was trying to bewitch Amantle’s friends.”

      “Didn’t