be the only kid in school who isn’t embarrassed to eat a packed polony lunch in public. “Most headaches subside by themselves. Just rest for a few minutes.”
“This is no ordinary headache.” I wince and close my eyes. I think I’m seeing stars. I lean over and rest my head on Wiki’s shoulder, and the next thing I know Lebz is shaking me awake.
“Is it time up already?” I sit up and rub my eyes.
“No.” She hands me a warm fatcake wrapped in a white plastic bag, a half-full can of juice and a pristine white Aspirin. “Maybe you’ll feel better after you have something to eat.” She’s not even looking at me.
“What’s the matter with you?” I snatch the tablet, drain the can and then reach for the fatcake. “Did Kelly change her nail polish or something?”
“I think our friend over there is making her nervous,” says Wiki. “He’s been watching us for the last ten minutes.”
I follow his gaze to a patch of sandy ground near one block of classrooms. A boy is standing there, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Everyone calls him Black Lizard because of the tattoo on his forearm. He’s in Thuli’s form, but he’s not much of a people person. He’s always skulking around, blending into the background.
“Oh, him.” I tear a piece out of my fatcake. “What’s his name again?”
“Rakwena,” Wiki supplies, returning his attention to his book. Wiki is one of those people who make a point of knowing people’s names. The rest of us aren’t nearly so courteous.
“Ri-ight.” My eyes narrow and I try to focus through the pain.
Lizard has all the makings of a heartthrob – flawless dark skin, tall, lean physique, broad shoulders. His hair is always cut close to the scalp as if he does it every day, and he has big, thoughtful eyes under thick brows. Sure, he’s not exactly the friendliest guy on earth, and he does have that creepy tattoo, but the real reason he’s not top of the list of Syringa studs is the scar. It runs diagonally down the left side of his face, from his temple to his chin. A little more to the right and it would have slit his lips. Brazen students call him Scarface, but most of us are too scared to look at the scar, let alone mention it. Nobody talks to him. He makes everyone so uncomfortable that we prefer to pretend he’s not there.
Even though he’s aware that I’ve seen him, he doesn’t look away. He’s weird like that. Brooding, but not in that romantic way that makes girls swoon. I don’t know why he’s looking at us – he never takes any interest in other people. It’s freaking me out.
“What the hell is he looking at?” I snap. “Lebz, are you wearing that neon bra that shows through your shirt?”
Lebz gives me a funny look. “I think he’s looking at you.”
I laugh, and my head reminds me that I’m in excruciating pain. “Why would he be looking at me?” I close my eyes and rub my temples. “Oh, hell – that tablet isn’t kicking in. I need something stronger. Anaesthesia, maybe.”
“I’ll go ask Kelly if she has anything.” Lebz jumps up eagerly. “She usually has at least five different pills on her.”
I sigh. “Does she raid her mother’s medicine cabinet or something?”
She sticks her tongue out at me and skips away, delighted at the prospect of basking in Kelly’s glow. Wiki gets up too, and for a moment I’m so shocked I forget my headache.
“Don’t tell me you’ve joined the Kelly fan club!” I’m crushed. Wiki has always been the only boy I can count on to be more interested in books than buxom teenagers.
He glares at me. “I’m going to the library to return my book.”
“Oh.” I smile, relieved. “Good.” I polish off the fatcake, then close my eyes again.
Deep breaths. In… ouch! My eyes flutter open. This isn’t working. Where is Lebz with my painkillers? I glance around the campus, and by the time I notice him walking towards me it’s too late. My chest feels constricted. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. Black Lizard is almost in front of me, and I have to fight the urge to bolt.
“I thought I’d never get you alone.” His voice is deep, hoarse, but surprisingly pleasant.
I raise my head slowly and try not to do something stupid, like scream. “Um, sorry?”
“Your friends.” He towers above me, a dark angel about to send me off to meet my Maker. “They never go away. The three of you are like conjoined triplets.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Um, I guess so.”
He studies me for a moment. I don’t want to stare at his scar so I stare at the collar of his shirt instead, and somehow that seems even worse.
“Headache?” he asks.
I nod.
“Bad, right? Possibly the worst you’ve ever had?”
I look up into his piercing gaze. “How did you know that?”
He smiles. He has nice teeth, a little crooked, but appealing. “You should go home before it gets worse. You probably won’t make it through the day in your condition.”
“My condition? It’s just a headache. I need more painkillers, that’s all.”
“Painkillers won’t help.” He lowers his voice a little and says, “Go home. You need to be somewhere safe.”
“Safe from what?” I’m leaning away from him now; I can’t seem to stop myself. He’s so strange, and the fact that he’s taking a sudden interest in me has me worried.
He doesn’t answer. He looks away, then turns back to me, his brow furrowed. “Your friend’s coming back. Just go home, Conyza. OK?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He slinks off into the shadows just as Lebz returns, clutching a bottle of water and a fistful of pills.
Lebz opens her fist. “Brufen,” she declares proudly.
I wrinkle my nose at the pink tablets, but my mind is focused on wondering how Lizard knows my name.
Lebz clicks her tongue in annoyance, grabs my chin in her hand and yanks me forward. “Open up.”
I open my mouth like a good girl and let her drop a tablet onto my tongue, then I take a big swig of the water and swallow. Usually the psychological effect of medication kicks in instantly, but not this time. If anything, the headache seems to worsen. It must be pissed off by my attempted rebellion.
“Oh, crap!” I groan, putting my head between my raised knees. “I can’t take it any more.”
“Connie?” Lebz’s voice sounds strangely distant. “Oh, no. Connie!”
When I open my eyes, I’m lying on the bed in the sick bay, staring at the paint peeling off the ceiling. I try to lift my head and someone starts playing drums in my skull.
“Connie?” It’s Lebz. “Are you feeling better?”
“No. What happened?”
“You fainted.”
I turn very slowly to stare at her. “Fainted?” Nonsense. I don’t faint. I’m not a fainter. “Oh, my head! Give me some pills, please!”
“OK, I’m taking you home,” she declares firmly. “Come on; can you get up?”
I sit up, fighting through the pain, and let her lead me to the door. We have just opened it when the nurse comes rushing down the corridor.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“She’s getting worse,” says Lebz. “I’m going to take her home; it’s not far.”
“You think she can walk?”
“Yes,