Chapter 2: The Black Bag by the Tuckshop
By second break, the sun was cooking the yard like kota under a broken warmer. Learners crowded the tuckshop windows, shouting orders for fat cakes, chips, and two rand sweets. But Kgosi wasn't hungry. He had a drop-off to make.
He walked casually, bag on his back, like a normal learner heading to chill with friends near the fence. But inside his bag sat a small black parcel — one of those things that can flip a whole kasi if it landed in the wrong hands.
He spotted her standing near the trees.
Naledi Mokoena — the principal's daughter. Quiet. Obsessed with true crime novels. Always carrying her own water bottle like she didn't trust anything in Mams. Smart. Too smart.
And lately, she had been watching Kgosi too closely.
"You're always looking over your shoulder," she said without turning. "You paranoid or guilty?"
Kgosi blinked. "I'm just cautious."
Naledi smiled faintly. "Caution's good. But secrets? They'll eat you."
He stepped past her, brushing off the tension. He didn't have time for guessing games — not when a package meant for Bra Stix from Block R had to be dropped behind the bins near the soccer field before third period.
But as he rounded the corner, someone grabbed his arm.
"O re tlohela ka eng, heir of Bra T-Man?"
Kgosi's blood chilled. The voice belonged to Tebza, a loudmouth Matric who ran with the Black Ice Crew — a gang of young street soldiers who used their school uniforms as camouflage.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kgosi said coolly.
Tebza smiled wide. "Eish, you Molefes think you're untouchable. But here's the thing — your daddy made enemies, bro. And enemies remember."
"Then tell them to come straight," Kgosi said, jaw tight.
"I'm not your enemy, boy. I'm just… letting you know. Red Wire ain't yours yet. Syndicate life doesn't come with a will."
He let go of Kgosi's arm and walked off laughing.
Kgosi exhaled slowly, then dropped the package exactly where it was meant to go — behind the grey dustbin by the old soccer post.
Minutes later, his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Drop received. Payment in 24 hrs. Watch out for Black Ice.
He shoved the phone deep into his blazer pocket, heart pounding. School felt more like a battlefield these days.
Back in class, he took his seat and looked out the window. His reflection stared back at him — blazer sharp, tie perfect, face calm.
But behind that reflection?
Was a boy juggling books and bloodlines.
Because in Mamelodi, schoolbags carried more than books.
And loyalty?
Loyalty still wasn't cheap.