Chapter 6:
The morning after the debate competition felt different.
As Puseletso walked into the schoolyard, whispers followed her—but this time, they weren't cruel.
"That's her…"
"She won…"
Puseletso kept her head down, but inside, something was changing.
After class, Mr. Dlamini called her forward.
"Puseletso," he said, his voice calm but serious, "what you showed yesterday was more than talent. It was potential."
He handed her a paper.
"There is a scholarship opportunity in the city. It is not easy to get. But I believe… you have a chance."
Puseletso stared at the form, her hands trembling.
"A chance…" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "But you must act quickly. Fill it in, bring it back, and I will help you submit it."
For the first time, her dream felt close enough to touch.
That afternoon, she sat under the baobab tree, carefully reading every word on the form. Her heart raced with hope.
This is it, she thought. This is my way out.
When she got home, she gathered all her courage.
"Auntie… I want to apply for a scholarship. To study in the city."
MaNtuli stopped what she was doing.
"The city?" she repeated slowly, then laughed bitterly. "You think people like you belong there?"
"I have to try," Puseletso said, her voice shaking but firm.
MaNtuli's eyes hardened. "Do what you want. But don't expect my support."
Lerato watched silently from the corner, her expression unreadable.
That night, under the dim light of her lamp, Puseletso filled in the form carefully.
Every word mattered.
Every sentence carried her future.
When she finished, she held the paper close, as if it were something fragile and precious.
She hid it safely between the pages of her notebook before lying down to sleep.
But the house was not as quiet as it seemed.
Long after Puseletso had fallen asleep, MaNtuli stepped into her room.
Lerato followed behind her.
"Where is that paper?" MaNtuli whispered.
Lerato searched quickly and found the notebook.
Inside it… the form.
MaNtuli stared at it, her face cold.
"This girl thinks she can leave us? Thinks she's better?" she muttered.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the paper—
—and crushed it in her hands.
The sound was soft, but final.
Lerato hesitated. "Auntie… what if—"
"Enough," MaNtuli snapped. "She will stay here. This is her place."
They left the room, the ruined form forgotten on the floor.
The next morning, Puseletso woke up with hope in her heart.
But when she reached for her notebook… she froze.
The form was gone.
Her hands shook as she searched everywhere—under the mat, inside her bag, around the room.
Nothing.
Then she saw it.
A crumpled piece of paper lying near the corner.
She picked it up slowly… her breath catching.
It was her form.
Wrinkled. Damaged. Useless.
For a moment, everything inside her broke.
Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
At school, she approached Mr. Dlamini, her voice barely steady.
"Sir… my form… it was destroyed."
He looked at her carefully, as if understanding more than she had said.
Then, without a word, he opened his drawer and took out another copy.
"I thought something like this might happen," he said gently.
Puseletso looked up, shocked.
"This is your chance," he continued. "Do not let anyone take it from you."
Her hands trembled as she accepted the new form.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
That afternoon, under the baobab tree once again, Puseletso began to write.
But this time, something had changed.
Her fear was gone.
In its place… was determination.
That night, she hid the form somewhere no one would ever find it.
And as she lay down to sleep, she made a silent promise:
No matter who tried to stop her… she would not be stopped.