Class(ism) (6)

“You okay, little sis?” Ray asked Zan as they walked through the school gates.

Raoul reached over and squeezed her shoulder. Zan swallowed loudly, trying to hold back her tears. She didn’t want anyone at school to see her crying. “I’m perfectly fine.” Zan gave both of the twins a hug. She appreciated having family at school, even though they were two grades above her. “I’ll see you guys after school,” she said. She walked towards the large brick-faced building, clutching her school bag in her right hand.

When Zan walked into her mathematics classroom, the room was buzzing. Zan’s classmates were all engulfed in conversations about the trips they took with their parents on the weekend and the new PlayStation games they found interesting.

“Guys, look who finally made it off of the povo bus,-” one of the girls in the classroom shouted, giggling.

Zan was unsurprised that it was Diamond, the richest, most popular girl in grade 10. She rolled her eyes and sat down at her desk. Half of the students were roaring with laughter while the other half were preoccupied with their iPhones. She pulled out her scratched-up Huawei and plugged in the R50 earphones she’d bought with her allowance a month ago. She placed her brother’s old mathematics textbook on the table and scrolled through Facebook to pass the time before the teacher arrived.

“What, are you too busy playing Snakes on your Blockia to reply to me?” Diamond laughed.

Zan couldn’t afford to participate in classroom foolery. She was determined to focus on school so that she could have a better life in the future; so that she never had to be harassed on the bus. Either way, she knew who would be easier to blame for a classroom fight between the girl whose parents had funded the school fountain or the less well-off newcomer.

A short boy walked into the classroom with his Ray-Ban sunglasses still on. His music was audible to the entire class through his Beats by Dre headphones. As he walked through the class, some of the students tried to catch his attention, but he nodded at them and continued walking. He sat down next to Zan and pushed her playfully.

“Hey, mate,” he smiled. He pulled out a Mugg & Bean breakfast muffin from his lunchbox. “My mom picked a bunch of these up for breakfast and I figured you might like one.” He placed a giant blueberry muffin in front of her.

Q was one of Zan’s best friends. She didn’t have many, especially in school, but he was one of the few people whose antics she could tolerate. Deep down, she wished she had his life. He had been adopted by a white couple and knew what it was like to live a privileged life. Q liked that Zan was down to Earth and never fought for his attention or bragged about material items like every other kid in the school.

“A pity muffin? Is something up?” Zan giggled, taking her earphones out.

“Oh, come on, I like doing nice things for my friend. And I wanted to ask you something…”

It always made Zan nervous to be asked favours by Q, because they usually involved him offering to spend money on her and though she appreciated that he liked her company, she hated feeling like charity.

“Look, my parents are throwing me a birthday party on Friday and I really want you to come,-“ he started.

Immediately, Zan was thinking of transportation costs, costs for gifts and what she would possibly wear around a group of rich white teenagers who wear Gucci to bed.

“I’ll pay for transport and everything,-” he said before she had the chance to reply.

Zan hesitated.

“Consider it a birthday present to me.”

“Q, I’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“You won’t! I promise the likes of Diamond won’t be there." He whispered, scrunching his nose in Diamond's direction. "Everyone will be chill.”

Zan knew this wasn’t true. She knew that the moment she walked in and everyone saw her dusty Converse sneakers and her oversized hand-me-down hoodies, they would have something to say, but she didn’t want to disappoint her friend. “Okay.” She forced a smile and broke off a piece of her muffin. “Thanks, mate.”