Backroom Girl

My name is Keitumetse, but at Carrollton Academy, most people know me as the cleaning lady's daughter.

I'm seventeen, in Grade 12, and I live in a small backroom behind the school hall in Malwela. Not many people know that. Most learners assume I take a taxi from Nakazane every morning, just like everyone else. They don't know my bed is barely ten steps away from the Grade 12 classrooms or that my school uniform hangs from a nail beside my mother's mop.

My mother, Mmathapelo, has been cleaning Carrollton Academy for eight years. When the school needed someone to stay behind and lock up at night, they offered her the little backroom behind the hall.

It's not much. One small window, an old kettle, one mattress for Mma and a thin mattress for me on the floor. We don't have much privacy, but we've learned to make do with what we have.

There is only one rule in our little home.

Don't embarrass the school.

So, over the years, I've learned how to be invisible.

Every morning, I wake up at 4:30. I fold my mattress, slide it behind Mma's bed and sweep the room before putting on my uniform. Then I leave through the back door, walk around the school grounds and enter through the main gate at 6:45, pretending I've come from somewhere else.

It's easier that way.

When people discover that you live in a backroom behind their school, they stop seeing you as a normal girl. Suddenly, you're a charity case. Someone they should pity, whisper about or remind that she's lucky to be there.

And I don't want anyone's pity.

"Keitu! Are you even listening?"

Refilwe snapped her fingers in front of my face.

I blinked, turning away from the window. She was sitting beside me in Grade 12B, chewing the end of her pen while Olerato, our other best friend, arranged her colourful highlighters neatly on the desk.

Refilwe was loud, playful and permanently interested in everyone's business. If something happened at school, she knew about it before the people involved did.

Olerato was different. She was calm, observant and had a way of noticing things I hadn't even admitted to myself.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my mathematics textbook.

"You've been staring at the Grade 12A block all morning," Refilwe said. "What's going on? Are you worried about matric, or are you admiring someone?"

"I'm worried about mathematics."

"Of course," Olerato replied, smiling. "And I'm the principal."

They both burst into laughter.

I rolled my eyes, but unfortunately, my gaze betrayed me again.

Outside, Lucas Franklin stood with his rugby teammates.

He was eighteen, captain of the school's first rugby team and the kind of boy everyone seemed to love. His black hair was always neatly cut, his uniform remained perfectly ironed until the last bell, and his white takkies probably cost more than my mother earned in an entire month.

Lucas came from money. His father was a successful businessman, and everyone knew Lucas was expected to study Law at Stellenbosch University after matric.

His future was already planned.

Mine was something I prayed about every night.

There was another reason I knew who he was.

Lucas was the son of the man whose house my mother cleaned every Saturday.

Sometimes, when Mma returned home exhausted, she'd mention something about the Franklin household. I'd heard Lucas's name more times than I could count, although I'd never had a reason to speak to him.

He was the boy whose world seemed perfect.

And I was the girl who helped mop the hallways he walked through.

We belonged to different worlds.

I'd never spoken to him, and I was certain he'd never noticed me.

"Keitu," Refilwe whispered, following my gaze. "Lucas again?"

"I wasn't looking at him."

"Girl, please. You almost swallowed your pen."

Olerato shook her head, laughing softly. "Leave her alone. Maybe she's just curious."

"Curious about what?" I asked.

"Whether rich boys can survive without their expensive takkies," Refilwe replied.

I laughed despite myself.

"You're impossible."

"And you're in love with a boy who probably doesn't even know you exist."

"Refilwe!"

"What? I'm just saying!"

Before I could defend myself, the bell rang. Our teacher entered, and we quickly returned our attention to our books.

I forced myself to concentrate on the lesson.

Lucas Franklin was not for girls like me.

That was something I understood perfectly.

Or at least, I thought I did.

---

The rain started just after lunch.

It came down so heavily that the sports field quickly turned into a muddy mess. Dark clouds covered the sky, and the sound of raindrops hitting the classroom windows made it almost impossible to hear our teacher.

By the time school ended at 2:30, the rain was still pouring.

Unfortunately, I had detention.

Mrs Khumalo had punished me for failing to submit my English essay. I'd tried explaining that my mother had been sick over the weekend and that we'd run out of electricity. My small rechargeable lamp had died before I could finish writing.

But Mrs Khumalo wasn't interested in excuses.

"You're in matric, Keitumetse. You need to learn responsibility," she'd told me.

So there I was, sitting in Room 4 with five other learners, wondering how much worse my afternoon could get.

After about twenty minutes, Mrs Khumalo collected her handbag and checked her phone.

"I need to move my car before that branch falls on it," she announced. "Keitumetse, close the windows and lock up when you're done. You know how things work around here."

Of course I did.

Everyone knew my mother was the cleaner.

The other learners rushed out, laughing and shouting as they ran into the rain. I stayed behind, slowly closing the windows one by one.

I was reaching for the last window when the classroom door suddenly opened.

"Shit—sorry. Is this Room 4?"

I turned.

And there he was.

Lucas Franklin.

His white shirt was slightly soaked, his hair was wet, and he was holding his blazer over his head.

"They said matric detention was moved here," he explained, catching his breath. "But there's nobody here. Did Mrs Khumalo leave?"

I stared at him, my hand frozen on the window latch.

He looked at me for a moment before his expression changed.

"Oh. You're Keitumetse, right? Grade 12B?"

My heart did something strange.

He knew my name.

"Yes," I managed to say.

"They told me to report here because I missed detention yesterday after rugby practice." He glanced towards the windows. "Can I wait here until the rain stops? My bag is already wet enough."

I nodded.

"Thanks."

He walked inside, placed his bag on the desk at the back and sat down.

I returned to my seat, pretending to read my English textbook.

The room smelled of wet chalk and damp uniforms. Outside, the rain continued beating against the roof.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then Lucas broke the silence.

"You live near White River, neh? I sometimes see you walking that direction."

My fingers tightened around my pen.

I couldn't let him discover the truth.

"Yes," I lied. "Around there."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Then he looked at me again.

"My dad mentioned that your mother works for us. On Saturdays."

My stomach tightened.

"Yes," I answered quietly. "She cleans your house."

I waited for the awkward smile. Maybe even a look of pity.

I'd seen those expressions enough times to recognise them immediately.

But Lucas surprised me.

"My room is always messy on Saturdays," he said casually. "I keep telling Mma—sorry, your mother—that I'm sorry for leaving things everywhere."

I looked up.

"She doesn't usually talk about work."

"Oh." He smiled. "She's really nice, though. She always asks me about my exams. Sometimes I think she worries about them more than I do."

A small smile escaped me.

"That's just how she is."

For a moment, the distance between us felt a little smaller.

He wasn't just the rugby captain anymore. He was a boy who knew my mother's name, remembered her kindness and spoke about her with respect.

I hadn't expected that.

Lucas stood and walked towards the window beside me.

"Are you ready for matric?" he asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

He chuckled.

"Fair enough."

"What about you?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Me?"

"Are you ready?"

He shrugged, looking outside.

"Everyone keeps talking about university and Law. Sometimes I feel like they've already decided my entire life for me."

I studied his face.

That wasn't what I expected him to say.

"At least you have options," I replied.

He turned towards me.

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head.

"Nothing."

He watched me for a second, as though he wanted to ask something else, but the rain had finally started easing.

Lucas picked up his bag and blazer.

"Well, I should get going. Thanks for letting me wait, Keitu."

"You're welcome."

He reached the doorway, then suddenly turned back.

"See you around, Backroom Girl."

My smile disappeared.

My heart dropped.

"How do you know about that?"

He leaned casually against the doorframe.

"I see you sometimes at five in the morning when I come for rugby practice. You come out of the back door behind the hall with your bucket."

For a moment, I couldn't move.

"You've seen me?"

"More than once."

"Does anyone else know?"

His expression softened.

"No. I haven't told anyone."

I swallowed.

"Why?"

He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious.

"Because it's your life, Keitu. You should decide who knows about it."

I stared at him.

Nobody had ever said anything like that to me.

Most people treated my living situation like something embarrassing. Something I should hide.

But Lucas wasn't laughing.

He wasn't looking at me differently.

At least, not in the way I expected.

He smiled faintly.

"See you tomorrow?"

I looked down, trying to hide the nervous smile forming on my lips.

"Maybe."

"Maybe is good enough."

And with that, he walked away.

I remained standing beside the window, listening to his footsteps disappear down the corridor.

For the first time, I wondered how long he'd been noticing me.

And more importantly, why he'd never said anything before.

I packed my books slowly, trying to convince myself that the conversation meant nothing.

It was just a conversation.

A rich boy had waited for the rain to stop, and I'd happened to be there.

Nothing more.

But as I switched off the classroom lights, one thought refused to leave my mind.

Lucas Franklin knew my secret.

And somehow, I had a feeling that my carefully hidden little world was about to become a lot more complicated.