The Wolf Who Cried Boy

I honestly could never make a good detective! I'm too gullible. When someone tells me something, I simply believe it to be true. I never question what people say. Perhaps that's how I got into this mess with Paul in the first place. I longed for all the people around me to be honest and true. Paul Valise and I met when we were still small children. We lived in a kind of estate – in a very popular part of Hartebeespoort. There were only four houses on the estate, all occupied by families who enjoyed one another’s company and found little to worry about when it came to the "little things in life", like financial security. We were all like a family – one very big, very wealthy family. There were Mr and Mrs Sauvage, the wealthy French lawyers, who lived in number one. Mr and Mrs Sauvage were an odd couple. They were both tall with long, sallow faces and stern expressions. They both only ever wore black business attire. They very rarely ever spoke more than a few sentences in my presence but I was once invited to shadow Mrs Sauvage during a court case and nearly fell off my chair in the courtroom when I heard how eloquently and expressively she argued her case – despite retaining her French accent. They had no children of their own, no pets either, and seemed to devote their entire lives to the one or two court cases they fought for more than most people make in their entire lives. My parents and I lived at Number 2. My parents were both psychiatrists and they ran their own practice near the dam. But, contrary to popular belief, neither of my parents were particularly "loony". They never tried to analyse people and weren't really up for trying any new-age psychiatric theories on their one and only daughter – even during my teenage years. But, then again, I was never the sullen teenager psychiatrists prey on. Generally, my parents enjoyed being social and didn’t mind that I did not. They were just hardworking people that enjoyed putting their feet up with a glass of wine at the end of a busy week. At Number 3 were the Knights – Mr and Mrs Knight and their daughter Mandie – originally from America. Mr and Mrs Knight ran Quantum Leap. Quantum Leap was a company that rented laboratories to anyone, whether commercial or private, looking for a testing facility. They tested anything and everything, from the physics behind gravity to new types of running shoes and even new-age drugs. Mr and Mrs Knight themselves reminded me of a pair of mad scientists. Mr Knight was tall and slim with a pair of round spectacles always perched on the end of his nose. His wife was the opposite, short and dumpy with exceptionally good vision. Their attitudes were opposite too. Mr Knight was as sullen as the Sauvages, sometimes even more, while Mrs Knight was a jovial sort, always making jokes and laughing heartily. But somehow, in spite of their differences, the Knights made it work – perhaps because of their love of all things science. That and maybe their matching "mad scientist hair". It seemed that in the estate the proof that opposites attract proliferated because Paul's parents, who lived at Number 4, were also perfect opposites. Mr Valise was a big man in both height and girth. He reminded me a little of a gorilla because he was big in stature and had quite a temper on him. He could bawl and shout better than anyone I knew and his growling had occasion to rattle the walls of our house when he was in a rage. Mrs Valise was more level-tempered and, when compared to husband, much quieter. She was definitely not as quiet as the Sauvages and Mr Knight but somehow, when her husband was near, she seemed too quiet. Paul and his family were the last to arrive and since he was my age we started playing together as five year olds. I never questioned his sincerity at that time but I was naïve – more so than as an adult. Paul seemed to me like any normal child. We met one summer morning when I was just four. I was sitting in the shadow cast by our house, playing with my doll, when a colourful, plastic ball bounced up beside me. I looked up to see a boy running towards me. The boy stopped when he saw me and looked at me as if I was some kind of alien. But, then again, I must have been eyeing him in the same curious manner because I had never seen a small boy in our estate before. The boy stood staring as I got up, picked up his ball that lay beside me, and walked over to give it back. I shyly handed over the ball and he took it equally shyly and mumbled a thank you. He didn't look at me and I could only look at the brightly coloured ball. I gave him one shy smile then slowly turned. I was about to walk away when he managed to stutter out, "W, would you like to play with me?" He held out the ball, tossing it a few centimetres in the air as if to demonstrate what he wanted. I didn't say a single word to him but I followed him to the centre of our communal driveway and watched as he tossed the ball. I caught it clumsily and he laughed triumphantly. I smiled weakly and tossed the ball back to him. I giggled when he also caught it with a fumble and he smiled too. From that moment on, Paul and I became friends and I quickly realised that Paul's shyness during our first meeting wasn't a normal occurrence. Paul was anything but shy. Still, his extroverted nature was a perfect match for my introverted nature; he was the talker and I was the listener. He spoke out when I couldn't and so our relationship worked. I remember on a first morning at school, I had been shy and scared. I worried that no one would talk to me or play with me. When the teacher came to talk to me, I simply looked up at her with my big green eyes and twirled my dark brown hair with rosé streaks around my finger. Paul walked up beside me. "This is Rosie," he said to the teacher. "She's my friend." Paul turned to me and unwrapped the hair from around my finger. "Don't worry, Rosie. We'll be fine together." That was the moment I realised how good a friend Paul could be. He seemed to me to be selfless – though the other kids called him stingy and mean. He was keen to make sure I was alright, at least, – like a big brother watching over his little sister. I still remember one morning in Grade 2, arriving at school to find Jamie Neves blocking my path into the classroom. "Excuse me," I mumbled trying to get by. But, Jamie Neves took great pleasure in teasing those who were smaller than she was – which just happened to be about half the girls in our class, including me. "You're excused, Maggot," she responded – clearly she'd been watching far too many army movies with her out-of-work dad. But, she refused to let me get by – pushing and shoving me back until I fell backwards onto the cold concrete outside. For years I could hear the echo of her cackle as she taunted me for falling over. That was the start of one of the most awful days of my young school life. As the morning drifted on, she continuedly tried to torment me. She took my lunchbox at first break and refused to give it back. I was forced to watch her eating my sandwiches and went hungry that day. During our PT period, she tripped me on the soccer field, causing me to fall into the mud and graze my knee. During English, she took my poem I had been composing for class and read it out to the class in a squealing voice – that was supposed to be an imitation of mine. She tied my ponytail to a knot in the chair so that I was stuck at the end of history. During second break, she threw a dirty dustbin over my head. And before we went home, she stabbed a pencil into my back so hard it drew blood. I was in silent tears that afternoon as Mrs Valise drove me home. "Is everything alright, lovie?" Mrs Valise asked me as she headed down the main road. Paul turned in his seat to face me. But, I refused to tell Mrs Valise or Paul about what Jamie had done to me all day. It seemed though that my silence had been more telling than my voice that day. Paul remained silent until Mrs Valise had pulled into the estate and turned off the car's engine. I scrambled out of the car as quickly as possible but Paul was too quick for me. "Rosie, what's wrong?" Paul murmured when we were out of the car and out of his mother's earshot. "Nothing," I responded, trying to hold back the tears until I got safely into the house. "I just had a bad day." But, Paul divined more than I was letting on. "It was Jamie, wasn't it? She was bullying you." I nodded silently as the tears stung the corners of my small eyes. "I thought I saw her laughing when you fell in PT. What did she do?" In spite of myself and my vow to suffer in silence, I told Paul everything. There was just something so easy and sympathetic about him. He listened and nodded and seemed to really be paying attention. "And then when I was walking towards the door, she stuck a pencil in my back. Look." I turned and lifted the back of my school shirt and Paul gasped. "Rosie," he said as I pulled my shirt down and turned to face him. "You can't let Jamie keep doing that to you." I blinked at him. "You have to tell a teacher." I shook my head. "But, no one will believe me. She never does anything when the teachers are around; only when they've left the classroom.” Paul began to pace in front of my front door. I watched him as he walked a few paces, turned then walked back. He had his hands behind his back and his head tilted forward in just the same way my Dad paced "Ok," he responded after a moment. "How about this? If Jamie does anything to you tomorrow, you go straight to tell the teacher. And if the teacher doesn't believe you, you come tell me. And I'll sort Jamie out."He crossed his arms. I nodded agreeing silently to Paul's terms. The next morning, I felt a little less concerned about the prospect of returning to school. But as I entered through the front gate behind Paul, Jamie leapt out to surprise me. With a swiping motion like a leopard, she reached out, grabbed my bag and yanked. The shock left me unable to retaliate. Instead, I felt the bag being ripped off me, attempting to take my shoulder with it. The bag split and a cascade of school book, stationery and lunch rained down onto the ground. Jamie gave a triumphant cackle and ran forward. With a few quick stomps she stood on my books leaving dirty brown marks on them and then walked away. Sighing, I fell to my knees as the bell rang and began to try and pick up my stuff as quickly as I could. But, the hole in my bag now meant that everything was in danger of spilling out on the slightest whim. I wound up having to turn around and return for my maths textbook, my pencil bag and my ruler which had all fallen out at different intervals. In the end, I found myself carrying my school bag like it was a pet. I was late when I entered the classroom and our Grade 2 teacher, Mrs Smit, knew it. "Rosie, you're late," she reprimanded with her piercing eyes glaring at me. The whole class was watching but only I could hear the growl in her voice. "I know, Ma'am," I responded meekly. "My bag broke and I had to pick up all my stuff." I held out the torn bag to show her. But, Paul’s gaze met mine and I straightened. "Actually, Jamie ripped my bag when she jumped out and grabbed it. Then she stood on my stuff and left me to pick it up on my own." Mrs Smit glared at me. Then she sighed. "You two need to learn how to be friends." She shook her head and turned her gaze to Jamie, who had her head buried in her friend's book and didn't notice the teacher's reproachfully stare. I sighed with disappointment and followed my usual path to my seat. I didn't know what I had expected to happen. Maybe I wanted Mrs Smit to defend me, tell Jamie off for her behaviour. But, I had half-expected the teacher not to. I was nearly at my desk when I felt a leg hook mine. I staggered forward, nearly over-balancing. "Careful you don't trip," Jamie said maliciously. As first break approached, I felt a panic rising in me like an expanding balloon. I knew that Jamie was just waiting to get me away from the teachers. I could see that eagerness in her eyes. As I got to my usual break-time spot under a tree, I saw Jamie waiting for me. Time slowed, turning the few seconds to hours. I felt my heart attacking my ribs violently. She gestured in a hand-it-over sort of way as I approached. I clutched my lunch to my chest. So she made to lunge at me. But I dodged by spinning sideways. She responded by grabbing me and pulling my lunch away. She laughed triumphantly and pulled my sandwich out of my lunch box. But before she could take a bite, I felt someone walk up beside me. Paul stood like a menacing statue beside me. "Give that back to Rosie," he snarled with his brows knitted together. Jamie laughed derisively. "Or what?" "Or you'll regret it." Jamie laughed once and then stuffed my sandwich in her mouth before turning around walking away. I thought Paul was going to do something. I thought he was going to stop her. But, she simply walked away from us as Paul watched. When she had walked out of earshot, Paul turned to face me. He held both hands behind his back but pulled them out, revealing two sandwiches. A grin played across his face. I asked Mom to make me an extra one. Just in case Jamie took yours. I smiled and took the sandwich Paul offered. "Thanks," I said. But I felt vaguely disappointed in Paul. Was this his big plan? Was he just going to get Mrs Valise to make two sandwiches every day - just in case Jamie took my lunch? That question continued to hang in the back of my mind all through the rest of the morning. It seemed like the answer was a simple "yes" until the second last period of the day. Paul walked past my desk and covertly whispered to me. "Whatever you do, don't get up from your desk. Sit completely still." Paul walked away without an explanation. But, I decided to listen to him anyway. For nearly the whole class, I sat rigid. I wasn't sure what was going on but I was too scared to move. The end of the school day was approaching when I heard Mrs Smit's booming voice which she reserved for serious rule breaking. "Miss Neves, what do you think you're doing?" The question made me forget Paul's warning. But, Mrs Smit reacted immediately. She grabbed Jamie hand just as I turned around and I saw the glass jar with the spider in it drop to the floor. The jar smashed and the other children screamed as the spider darted between their legs towards the door. Mrs Smit held Jamie hand firmly as she scolded. "Do you realise how dangerous and stupid that was?" She shrieked. "You could have killed Rosie." The story of Jamie and the spider spread quickly. The school principal almost expelled her and Mum freaked out when she heard. Jamie was suspended for two months. And she was never allowed to go near me again. But, I didn't think about Jamie or the spider. My thoughts lingered on Paul. Just like a brave big brother, he had rescued me from a bully. Just like he had been doing for most of our friendship. Whatever happened, whatever we did, we would always be friends. And for a long time, it appeared that the courses of our lives would run together. That our friendship would never need to be tested by distance. We had attended the same preschool; we were in the same primary school and; we were all set to attend the same high school, where we would see each other every day until we graduated. And – if our parents' rather obvious hopes were realise – long after that as well. But, as the saying goes: "the course of life never did run smoothly" and the courses of Paul's and my lives took an unexpected turn in the middle of primary school which forced us to separate – our lives and our personalities completely severed. It was a school project which Paul and I had been paired for – not unlike the other many projects we had done in the past. We were tasked with raising funds for our community by creating a temporary business that would generate a profit. We were expected to provide a product or a service that people would pay us for and the money we raised would be ploughed into community initiatives. The more interesting the business, the more marks we would get for it. While others made cupcakes or lemonade or offered to run garage sales or wash cars, Paul and I began our own temporary dog-grooming business. We worked well together on this enterprise but not because we worked well as a team. Rather, we worked well because Paul spent all his time drumming up customers, haggling prices and raking in profits while I spent all my time making the clients happy by grooming their dogs, brushing fur, trimming claws and finishing with happy and relaxed dogs. Paul was keen on the finance of earning money while I wanted to serve by grooming all the dogs properly. Though I seemed to be doing most of the actual work, I didn’t complain because I decided that I probably couldn’t do what Paul was doing just as he couldn’t do what I was doing. Our temporary dog-grooming business, which we worked on for a while even after the project was over, set us up for our futures. As we reached high school and our opportunity to choose subjects, Paul chose the financial side of education focusing on Accountancy and Economics while I chose the more biological side focusing on Biology and chemistry. We still saw each other during Maths class every day but somehow we were not the same. Paul liked to sit and discuss money and finance. He liked to get actively involved in raising funds for the school and had several jobs that kept him busy on the weekends and during vacation. I was busy too but with less money-driven enterprises. Most of my school time was spent studying for tests or practicing my chemistry skills in our tiny school lab. At the weekends and during vacations, mostly because I never saw Paul, I volunteered at our local animal shelter and sometimes spent time at Quantum Leap with the Knights. The courses of our lives were set to veer as far away from each other as possible. I still tried to stay friends with Paul during our busy high school years and I seemed to be succeeding right up until Matric Farewell. There had been an agreement between us and our parents that since Paul and I had known each other for most of our lives and since our parents knew the types of kids we were, that Paul and I would be partners for the dance. I, admittedly, had been so excited. I could think of no one else to go with besides Paul and had already planned the dress and the shoes I would wear and how my hair would look on the night. Paul had even asked me if I would go with him but this was several months before the dance. Then, two weeks before the dance, Paul was standing in our kitchen grabbing chips at our nacho's night when he made an announcement. His mother had been talking to some of the other women about exams and graduation but how we would first have to get through Matric Farewell. She had her finger's through her son's short, dark hair. "Yes," she said in her docile yet proud sort of way. "We'll still have to get a suit for you, won't we, my love? And a tie to match Rosie's pretty dress.” "Oh, I'm not going with Rosie anymore," Paul said casually as he dipped one of his nacho's in guacamole. "I asked Kelsey Lyon to go instead." The whole room fell deadly silent. Everyone was staring at the two of us standing in the kitchen. My face felt like it was burning and I felt as though my insides were threatening to spill out of me. Yet, Paul didn't seem to notice he'd said or done anything to cause a stir. He simply took another chip and, plate in hand, obliviously wondered to our living room, every eye watching him. Mum suggested that I leave the room after that. I was grateful. I rushed out of the kitchen and threw myself through the bathroom door where I retched into the loo. Feeling only slightly better than I had done in the kitchen, I wondered back to my room. But, though I had the door shut to the rest of the world and no intention of ever seeing anyone again, I still heard the commotion going on in the living room. "Boy, how could you do that to that poor girl?" Mr Valise bawled louder than I'd ever heard before. "To just casually shunt her like that. And, in front of everyone." "You will march right to Rosie's room right now and apologise to her," Paul's father's booming voice carried through the house. "And, you will tell her you will be taking her to the farewell." "But, what about Kelsey?" I heard Paul whine. "You will just have to call her and tell her you made a mistake. You've already promised someone else you would take them to the farewell and you can't go back on that promise." Mrs Valise declared. But, Paul didn't tell me he would be taking me and he didn't tell Kelsey Lyon either. He did apologise but it was a forced apology – as though he didn't really mean what he said. Mr and Mrs Valise remained furious with him. I was forced to go to Matric Farewell alone because there wasn't time to find another date. I knew no other boys other than the ones at my school and they all had partners already. I walked into the dance alone, feeling utterly humiliated. And to top it off, Kelsey seemed to laud the fact that Paul had chosen her over me. I was wounded, more than I cared to admit. And Paul just stood talking to Kelsey – who smirked and simpered – as though nothing was amiss. I was invisible to him. I stopped speaking to Paul after that for a while. Our friendship had dissolved much like our partnership in our dog-grooming business. I still spoke warmly to Mr and Mrs Valise but I ignored Paul completely for the rest of Matric. As far as I was concerned, we were no longer friends or even acquaintances – and Paul's oblivious behaviour simply confirmed to me that he too wished to forget we had ever met that first day. I never heard much of him after that. I pretty much kept my distance from him for the remainder of the year. It wasn't hard to do. Our final exams were fast approaching and aside from our higher grade maths classes, we never had a single class together. During our final few breaks before our exams, I usually spent my time studying or sitting with my chemistry friends. Paul spent his breaks with his Economics friends. And at the weekends, both Paul and I were too busy to see each other because of Paul's bustling social life and my rigorous study schedule. Family gatherings were never a problem because Paul always declared himself too busy and refused to attend. But after a couple of months of stewing, I felt bad about how cold I'd been towards Paul. As much as I'd felt betrayed by him, I started to think that I was partly to blame. After all, I hadn't really been around much in our Matric year - what with homework, tests and my charity work. I began to feel that I had pushed Paul away and decided to try hard to be friendly to him. I wanted to get back to the friendship we'd had before. That Christmas holiday I worked extra hard to try and see Paul. I battled. Although he always gave the impression that he wanted to go to the movies or to the mall with me whenever I asked, he always seemed to be too busy at the time. There was always some excuse or another. I never even managed to snag a moment to talk to him. And even at our family gatherings Paul seemed to be too busy to even have a quick chat or talk about his university plans. On Christmas Day afternoon, after we had had lunch, I cornered Paul in Mrs Knight's passage. He was just heading back to the dining room when I stepped out in front of him, blocking his path. "Are you mad at me or something," I asked, "that you never want to do anything with me? Or do you just not like being my friend anymore? " I stretched both hands out to block his path but he didn't try and get by. "What?" he responded in shock. "Rosie, how could you even think that? Of course we're still friends. I - I've just been really busy lately. But, I promise we'll do something together soon." And I believed him. When the New Year arrived, I went off to Onderstepoort to study veterinary medicine. It had been my passion ever since we had started our dog-grooming business in Grade Five. I heard Paul went to Pretoria University to study business – which I assumed was a passion of his own. I wasn't sure and didn't dare ask whatever became of him after that. But eight years after we had graduated, our lives again merged in the most unusual of ways.