Chapter 1
The Static of 17
For Andrea, age seventeen sounded like the bass-heavy thump of a speaker in a crowded yard. It was the year of matric, the year of final exams, and the year she fell for Malick.
Malick was a local DJ who didn't just play music; he owned the atmosphere of the township. When he looked at Andrea, she felt like she was the only song on his playlist. But that was the problem with DJs—they always had a queue of people waiting for the next track.
Andrea loved Malick but she loved Cindy, her bestie more. The problem with Cindy was that she hated Malick, she hated seeing Andrea around him because to her, DJs did not only remix songs but hearts too. Malick was never good enough for Andrea in Cindy's eyes. Andrea could only accept that her bestie hated her boyfriend so she didn't see the betrayal coming.
The trial examinations had started, all the matriculants were stressed out. Cindy and Andrea were two days away from writing their Physical Science paper. Andrea was under a lot of pressure so she decided to go to Malick's place to clear her head. She felt her heart pounding the moment she opened the gate but she didn't understand why and she ignored it.
(Knock-knock-knock) Andrea knocked.
"Andrea!!!" Cindy screamed as she opened the door. Andrea was shocked not because Cindy was at Malick's place but because she was wearing his hoodie, no pants, no shoes just the hoodie. When she saw Malick's figure approaching in the corridor, she screamed and threw her bag at him. "How could you? How could you?", she shouted. He tried to calm her down and asked Cindy to leave. The look on Cindy's face showed no remorse but satisfaction. She waltzed to the bedroom, took her things and left with a grin on her face. That's when Andrea realised, Cindy didn't like her relationship with Malick because she wanted him for herself. She started having mixed emotions, Malick kneeling before her asking for forgiveness wasn't gonna cut it this time. She finally said the words she never thought she would ever say to him "I'm glad your mom isn't here to see this, to see the animal you have become, to see how you turned her house into a cheap motel" , picked up her bag and left.
When she went to school the following morning, everyone looked at her pitifully. She already knew that Cindy told people. As she walked into her classroom, she found Cindy sitting at the table with their classmates. "Still rocking the cheap hoodie I see" she said. She didn't get a response instead Cindy went on and on about how she had fun with her new boyfriend yesterday. She bragged about it for almost any hour, rage baiting on Andrea. Her bragging got to Andrea's head so she took a pair of scissors on the table and walked to Cindy. Her eyes were filled with anger and hatred, she cut the hoodie as if she was cutting a piece of paper. Cindy tried to break free from Andrea's grip but she was too strong. By the time Andrea let go, the hoodie was left with a big hole on the front.
Andrea took everything personally. She was built of glass and nerves.
For the rest of her matric year, Andrea lived in a loop. Malick would show up at her gate, smelling of expensive cologne and cheap excuses. He’d apologize, she’d cry, and then she’d let him in. Every time she took him back, she felt a small piece of her self-respect chip away, falling like dust to the floor but not this time. By the time she sat for her final exams, she wasn't just tired—she was hollow.
Her mother noticed, of course. Her mother, a woman who wore her dignity like a stiffly ironed uniform, had no patience for "boy trouble."
"You’re a matriculant, Andrea," her mother would say, slamming a plate of food onto the table. "You should be thinking about your future, not some boy who plays records for a living. I didn't raise you to be a doormat."
The pressure to be the "perfect daughter"—the one who would go to university and lift the family up—pressed against Andrea’s chest until she could barely breathe. She felt like she was failing at school, failing at love, and failing her mother. She was patiently waiting for her 18th birthday and so that she could start looking for a job.
When she turned eighteen, she didn't wait for a celebration. She found a job in a different province—hundreds of kilometers away. She packed her bags not to find a career, but to find a version of herself that didn't have Malick’s fingerprints all over it.
She thought she was leaving the pain behind. She didn't realize she was carrying it in her marrow.
