Chapter 4: Detention and Deals
Kgosi had been in school long enough to know: when Naledi Mokoena starts talking about secrets, chaos is close. But this time? She wasn't bluffing.
The next morning, everything felt… off.
A teacher was missing. The principal was "off-site." And police vans were parked just outside the school gate — sirens off, but presence loud.
Inside class, the noise died quickly when Detective Mavuso entered. Tall. Bald. Wore sunglasses indoors like a rapper — but with eyes that had seen too many bodies.
"We're investigating a missing firearm connected to a recent hijacking in Block S," he announced. "And we have reason to believe it was smuggled through this school."
Murmurs spread like wildfire. Girls whispered. Boys texted under the desk.
Kgosi sat still. Calm. But deep inside?
Panic.
He knew exactly what gun they were talking about. His crew had moved it — a dusty Glock linked to one of Bra T-Man's old deals. It was meant to be long gone. Disappeared. But someone talked.
Somebody snitched.
By lunch, a list went up outside the staffroom: learners scheduled for random locker checks. Kgosi's name was there — bold, at the top.
And right beneath it?
Naledi Mokoena.
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3:15 PM — Detention Room
Only three learners had been pulled into the so-called "detention": Kgosi, Naledi, and a quiet boy named Spura, who barely spoke more than five words a day.
They were told to sit and wait.
But the room was bugged. Kgosi could feel it. The CCTV light blinked too perfectly. The mirror behind the teacher's desk wasn't dusty like the rest of the room.
Naledi leaned closer, whispering, "I think this is a trap. They're trying to shake us — see who cracks first."
Spura suddenly spoke. "They already searched my locker. They didn't find the bag."
Kgosi's eyes narrowed. "What bag?"
Spura paused. Looked around.
"The black bag you left behind the tuckshop last week. I saw you."
Silence. Heavy.
Kgosi clenched his fists. "Who else saw?"
Spura shrugged. "I didn't tell anyone. But I think Tebza followed you that day."
Naledi looked at both of them. "We're being boxed. They want us to turn on each other."
Kgosi stood up, knocking his chair over.
"If this is a setup," he said, voice low but sharp, "then it means someone's working with Black Ice... from the inside."
"And what are you going to do?" Naledi asked.
He looked at her.
"Simple," he said. "I'm going to find the rat… and cut off its tail."