The Great Divide by Lynette Ferreira

The first month at my new school pass without any drama, and after public school, it is all very mundane. It seems as if nothing exciting ever happens—no fights after school, no rude behaviour, any swearing, or cussing. Johnathan sits next to me most breaks, and as ridiculous as it sounds, this makes my heart jump wildly in my chest. Every night I lie in bed and contemplate starting a conversation with him but come daylight and lunch break when he is sitting next to me, I am unable to put my well-thought-out plan into action. Sometimes he will lean into me, his head close to mine, and then ask me softly, “How are you doing, Chrissie Taylor?”

“I am fine, thank you, Johnathan,” I would reply shyly, and then berate myself for the rest of the day for being so inhibited, and not being able to speak my mind when I am in his presence. I persuade myself he is very forward, and I am just not used to being on the receiving end of special attention from boys, and this is most probably the reason for my nervousness.

Foolishly, I find myself looking for him during the day, every day and secretly I do enjoy the interest he seems to have in me, but I also notice every other girl in the school is in love with him as well. I observe the way they near-collapse whenever he walks by and how he enjoys this, how he uses his charm and charisma to exploit this.

He is academically the best student in school, achieving top, top marks and all the Ivy League Colleges are head-hunting him vigorously—a situation he just takes in his stride. He has a joy for life, and I fear all that talent is going to go to waste because he is probably hoping to cruise along on the wealth of his parents.

No one has made the effort to get to know me better or asked me where I live or what my parents, or more so, my father does for a living. They all just assume, because I am white and can attend the same school as them that I too live in a world of abundance.

There is no need for me to follow Anne around anymore, but still she waits for me after each class and we walk together to our next class. I would not say we have become friends in this short space of time, but she can be pleasant at times and I find myself strangely enjoying her company–sometimes—because every now and again, she can be very snide towards me.

An excitement is hanging over the school. It is February, and inevitably V-Ball is only two weeks away. All the girls gather in the halls, in the cafeteria and in the bathrooms discussing their dresses and the one dress sounds more exaggerated than the next.

I start to feel anxious because although I am sure my mom and dad would be able to afford to buy me a new dress, it would most certainly not be an extravagant designer dress. My father would exclaim, ‘But it’s only a Valentine’s Ball’ - and I can already hear him in the back of my mind.

The first time they started talking about V-Ball, I was perplexed and asked Anne one morning, “What is V- Ball?”

At first, she looked at me confused as if she could not understand how I could not know, and then she explained, “V-Ball is our Valentine’s Ball.”

“Okay.” I smiled, feeling silly because in hindsight it was obvious.

She continued, “In May we have the Annual Charity Ball,” and then excitedly she added, “This year it is a masked ball, and then of course there is the Matric Farewell Dance at the end of the year.”

Many dresses to worry about.

Anne continued, “I suppose you won’t have a date for V-Ball, being new?”

I smiled as friendly as I could. “No, I’ll have to come on my own. And you?” I did not mention I was hoping above all hope that Johnathan would ask me.

“We always come as a group, even those in a relationship, because then those of us without dates don’t feel so awkward.”

This was a great relief. “That’s great. Do we all just meet at school, or do we arrive together?”

“We meet here. It is a tradition already in our year, so I would not worry about that if I were you.”

“Have you already bought your dress?” I asked carefully.

She gushed – literally. “Yes, my dad topped up my card last week, thankfully because I was seriously maxed out. I bought the most gorgeous green dress. And you?”

My throat constricted slightly. “Not yet. I will probably go this weekend.”

“You must go to this little shop just off Main Street. They have the most brilliant designer dresses. They are pricey, but worth it if you don’t want to be caught wearing the same as someone else.”

The bell chimed then – thankfully – and Anne started walking toward our next class.

Thankfully, all I had to worry about was what I would be wearing, and not stressing about being the only one walking into the hall without a date.

Once a week we have an assembly, and I no longer feel shipwrecked, floating in the middle of this navy-blue ocean, desperately fighting to survive.

After we sing the national anthem, I notice nobody is leaving, and there seems to be a different energy in the hall. Once everyone is sitting down again, and a hush falls over the hall, the curtains on the stage open. I stretch my neck and see the equipment from a band of some sort arranged across the stage.

Shockingly, I hear a few boys whistle, and look across the aisle to see who could be so rowdy. Yes, here boys and girls are seated separately, boys to the left and girls to the right.

Four boys walk onto the stage and everybody starts to clap excitedly. I berate myself for not listening and hearing the announcement because now I had no clue what is going on. I do well academically because I pay attention, but when there is no need to concentrate, I drift off into my own little world. Recently this would include my fanciful imaginings; similar to tales in faraway kingdoms with Johnathan being Prince Charming and me—I am obviously, the damsel in distress.

I look at Anne, sitting next to me, and I want to lean closer to her and ask her what is going on, but she is staring forward fixedly.

Three of the boys pick up the instruments placed on the stage, while one boy slides in behind a set of drums. They start playing a song, a song I have never heard before, but it is very catchy, and I cannot help liking it.

The lead singer is exceptionally attractive, even though I immediately notice his skin colour – black.

I notice Anne look at him in adoration and I wonder who he is. He is wearing a school uniform, so he is obviously a student here, but I have never seen him before. It could be one of those situations where something has been in front of your eyes all along, but you never notice or realize, until you come face to face with it.

I have never noticed the number of black students in school, although I am sure there were not many. They kept to themselves and they were not in my group of friends.

When the four-member band finishes their song, the lead singer waits patiently until the whistles and clapping stops.

He smiles, and it lights up the room. I cannot help it when I feel the corners of my mouth lift as well. He announces, “Remember to buy your V-Ball tickets; there are only a few left over.”

The hall groans, and then the band leaves the stage accompanied by loud cheering and clapping, while I think to myself disheartened, that now, besides having to convince my parents I needed a new dress, I would also have to persuade them to buy me a ticket to the V-Ball. Maybe I should just not go, but then again, there is such a build-up around the whole affair, and I could not help myself, I look forward to also go.

At lunch break, I ask Anne, “Who was that band playing in the hall this morning?”

“Oh, that’s Vincent. It’s his band, and they call it ÉLastique. That’s French for an elastic band, but I’m sure you know what it means.”

I grimace on the inside, but outwardly I smile and say, “They’re incredibly good. That song they sang has been stuck in my head since this morning.”

Anne smiles distracted. “They signed a record deal near the end of last year with a big producer and they spend all their free time in the Music Centre. I hear they will be releasing their first single in July this year.”

“It all sounds so exciting.” I heave a sigh.

Unexpectedly, she says, “Come,” and starts to stand up. I get up and follow her, blissfully aware of Johnathan who is staring at me.

She leads me down a long, badly lit corridor. An old, medieval-looking part of school I have not been in before. I start getting flashing images in my mind of witch coven initiations, candles, and big shiny knives. I start to feel apprehensive and am indecisive whether I should make up a lame excuse and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction.

Just as we turn a corner and I open my mouth to make an apology, that I need to be somewhere else, I see, feeling slightly mortified at my silliness, a big sign and read the words, Music Centre, above a large archway.

We walk through under the archway and then through a doorway, into the Music Centre.

There in front of me is the entire four-member band from this morning. They are huddled around a piano and the lead singer jokingly bumps the drummer, saying laughingly, “How can you not hear the rhythm in that piece, and might I add without drums?”

The drummer is about to retaliate when Anne clears her throat and they look up as one.

“Hi, boys.” She smiles coyly.

“Hi, Anne,” they say together as if in chorus, and start laughing.

“You were great this morning.” I see her looking only at the lead singer when she says this.

“Thank you,” he replies. “That’s going to be our first single.”

The drummer adds, “Not quite. We need a female vocal for the chorus, but basically that would be it.”

“Well, I’ll be the first one to buy a copy.” Anne giggles, to my astonishment.

The lead singer looks at me, smiling friendly. He holds my eyes with his for a moment, and for no reason, I struggle to breathe, a tightness suddenly crushing my chest.

Weirdly, I notice his eyes. They are bright green and it looks odd, yet captivating against his dark skin. I am unable to look away.

Anne does not bother to introduce us, and I cannot think of one intelligent thing to say. I berate myself and think irritated how seriously ridiculous I am being, just standing here, starstruck.

I watch Anne flirt shamelessly with him, but he is obviously not interested, and I start to feel a little sorry for her.

The school bell chimes, and we all walk out into the corridor together.

When the band members are a few paces further on, ahead of us, the lead singer looks back at me. He catches my eye and for a brief second, he holds my gaze with his. I feel everything around me turn foggy and for some peculiar reason I am only aware of him.

A momentary frown flashes across his brow, and then he turns back, and they walk away laughing and joking.

Once it is only Anne and I walking toward our next class, she sighs loudly and says, “What I would give to be with him. I swear I have had a crush on Vincent for a whole year already, but he just does not notice me.”

I agree with her, “He is very attractive.” I am shocked though. She is confessing something so personal to me, and I am confused how she could wish to be with him—he is black. Since I was old enough to understand, my dad has warned me to never, ever come home with a black boyfriend. My dad says he is not a racist, and although we can be friends with anybody of any race, creed, or colour, he puts his foot down at interracial relationships. After years of hearing this, I would never even look twice at a black boy, or even contemplate having more than a friendly relationship with him.

My dad often tells me, jokingly serious, he has nothing against white people when it comes to me dating.

Now, as I listen to Anne gushing over Vincent while we walk along the corridor, I convince myself I could never like him in a romantic way, yet I can feel an unmistakable ball in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I try to push aside, but it feels like it is digging its claws into my sides, persistent and painfully real.

My parents give me money to buy a ticket for V-Ball, borrowing from Paul to pay Peter, as they say. They want me to fit in at my new school, to make friends and to be accepted. I take the money gladly.

The weekend before V-Ball, my mom and I go shopping for my dress. We go to a shop my mom searched for on the internet. A designer shop, but not a designer shop in the normal sense of when I mention the name, everyone will gape. It is a shop where designers, who are unable to open their own shop, or only starting out, or even still design students, rent a rail in this huge warehouse type emporium.

We find a beautiful salmon pink dress which accentuates my small middle and then swoops out over my generous hips, with stiff netting.

I am excited, and I am now looking forward to V- Ball. I cannot wait, anticipation building up inside of me at the reaction Johnathan would have when he sees me in this beautiful dress.

I get dressed the evening of the V-Ball, and my mom helps me with my hair. I feel beautiful in my one-of-a-kind dress, at a fraction of the price, but the best thing about the dress is that it makes me look slim.

My dad drives me to school and when I get out of the car, my nerves bundling up at the bottom of my throat, I take a deep breath, swallow, and with my dad smiling encouragingly to me, I walk toward the hall.

I walk to my group of friends, and a few of the boys wolf whistle. They have no tact and considering these people are supposed to be the cream of the crop—I have honestly met people of less fortunate circumstances who had more manners.

Johnathan is with the painfully skinny girl, Tanya, and they dance together the whole time while I try to avoid looking at them. I have to admit this upsets me, because he always makes me feel special, invading my space, standing too close to me, talking to me as if he likes me, and I honestly thought he liked me. I know I like him.

I dance only a handful of times with the rest of my group, dancing all together, and I avoid Johnathan—not even looking in his direction.

The ÉLastique’s play a few songs. I convince myself the only reason I am so interested in Vincent is because he is almost famous. He has a beautiful voice, a lot of appeal, is extraordinarily handsome, and I can picture him being very well known, and this is probably what makes me so fascinated with him.

During the evening, I notice Vincent and his band members across the hall with a group of girls, laughing and seemingly having a great time. I also notice there is a beautiful black girl constantly by his side.

When Anne and I walk to the bathroom together, I can see she is upset about something. Before I can ask her, she blurts, “He has a new girlfriend every week, and I can’t understand why I am so attracted to him.”

I ask, “Who?” I presume, heartbreakingly, she is talking about Johnathan.

“Vincent. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Oh. Okay.” I always seem to have my foot in my mouth.

Drawing from my own limited experience, I say softly, consolingly, “Sometimes we just fall in love with someone and we then hope beyond reason that that person likes us back with the same measure of undying love.”

She laments, “I have never seen him with a white girl, not ever, not once, so I don’t know what makes me think he will ever notice me.”

I do not know what to say, so I just smile awkwardly. I decide then, annoyed, Anne and I could be genuinely great friends because we have so much in common – we are both unable to have relationships with boys—boys we want. I like Johnathan and she wants Vincent, desperately.

Tanya goes home long before the scheduled end of the ball, and then Johnathan comes to stand with us again. He comes to stand next to me, and then nudges me slightly, grinning.

I ignore him, pretending I do not notice him. I wonder irritated if he really thinks he is now going to replace Tanya with me because he has no one to spend the rest of the evening with.

I turn to walk away from him, to go and stand somewhere else in the group. He folds his hand around my arm softly.

I look up at him, frowning, and insist softly, “Leave me.”

He smiles that boyish smile of his. “Are you jealous, Chrissie Taylor?”

“Why on earth would I be jealous?” I laugh dryly, making sure to keep my voice low because I did not want everybody to hear us.

“I was dancing with Tanya all night—that’s why.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself. You can spend your time with whomever you want to, I am not your girlfriend.” I pause. “And I never will be.” I look down at his hand still wrapped around my arm. “Let me go.”

“Come on, you don’t mean that.” He smiles alluring.

“Yes, I actually do,” I insist.

He moves and is standing in front of me, once again very close. He brings his head down and rests it on my forehead as if in exasperation.

Softly he says, “Tanya and I went out last year, and we already decided then we were going to come to V-Ball together.”

“Why are you trying to justify yourself? I already told you I don’t care—at all.”

He lets my arm go, and then he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him.

Seriously, he says, “Yes, you do care because you would not be acting like this otherwise.”

I sigh exasperated. “What do you want from me, Johnathan? Must I entertain you now because Tanya has gone home? You have ignored me the whole evening and now you are all over me.”

“That’s not fair,” he retaliates defensively.

“Do you want to know what’s not fair? You’re not fair.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at?” He says seriously.

He honestly seems unaware of his actions, or he is acting dumb, and I give in. I know it would be better to move on because Johnathan spells trouble and heartbreak. I saw it that first day already, yet I started liking him – typical.

I include him in my conversations, forgiving him against my better judgement.

The last song of the evening is a slow song, and Johnathan drags me onto the dance floor. I want to protest, but I do not want to make a scene either.

He holds me close to him, and I know I should resist, but he is so tempting and maybe he is talking the truth about Tanya.

I enjoy the way he holds his arms around my waist, and the way his blue eyes connect with mine. I am sure deep down, although he does not know it yet, he realizes I am the girl for him.

I notice Vincent staring at us, but then again everyone is looking at us.