Too Young to Die

By Sivuyile Mazantsi and Sam Roth

Mzi wants one thing: revenge. He is full of hatred and anger for his old girlfriend Ntombi and her new boyfriend Olwethu. It was their fault that he was arrested for being part of Zakes carjacking gang. But now to stay out of jail Mzi can t make one wrong move. And at Harmony High Mzi no longer gets the respect he once had. Kids who feared him now tease him. Only his old friend Vuyo and the sexy Priscilla give him comfort, and encourage him to regain his power by getting back into the world of crime. Will Mzi manage to get his revenge on Olwethu, and still stay out of jail? Or will he be making the biggest mistake of his life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cover2Cover Books
• Release date: Jul 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9780992201739

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Copyright and credits

About the publisher

Find out about FunDza

Chapter 1

The police van swung around a corner. Mzi was thrown against Zakes, his partner in crime.

This is shit, Mzi spat.

No worries. Zakes tried to steady himself as the van took another corner way too fast. It was difficult as he was handcuffed and shackled. A true prisoner and he hadn’t even had his bail hearing yet. I’ve got people inside prison who can help us. But right now I need your help. You’ll find a cigarette and matches in my pocket.

When Mzi looked amazed, Zakes laughed. I have ways and means … now just light up one. I’ve been craving a smoke.

Mzi hesitated. Like they’re going to add smoking to my record. Zakes was getting edgy. Mzi took the cigarette, lit it and held it up to Zakes’ lips so he could take a puff. That’s better. Zakes exhaled the smoke. Mzi could see the tension in his body relax. Hey, I’m lucky you’re here with me. They don’t normally let hardened criminals in the van with minors … he imitated the policeman’s voice. Mzi had to laugh. Zakes sounded just like Sergeant Ndebele. But then what was about to happen to him hit him and wiped the smile off his face.

Don’t stress. Zakes could sense his fear. "Lighting a skyf is not the last thing you’ll be doing for me. And you’ll be rewarded for your work. I never forget a favour. I promised when you joined me in my business you’d be rich and drive a fast car. I don’t break promises."

Mzi looked out at the darkening sky. The smoke from Zakes’ cigarette choked up the air and the windows didn’t open. Even from behind bars I can operate, Zakes went on. I have runners who eat out of my hand like dogs.

But Zakes’ words seemed to be coming from far away. Mzi felt dizzy and sick. How had he ended up here, in the back of this police van going to court?

* * *

He had been one of Zakes’ gang. He had hijacked smart cars, and he had loved it – driving that flash BMW with the leather seats, the respect, the fear he could sense in the boys at Harmony High when he so much as looked at them. They all knew he was connected.

But then he had got involved with Ntombi and that’s when the shit really started. She had fallen for him, like all the girls did. But then, like all the girls, she had started asking too many questions. Yes, he had got a bit rough with her – but she deserved it – going behind his back like that. And then that friend of hers, that impimpi Olwethu, had gone running to the police. And now he was here in the back of this police van.

Just thinking about it made his blood boil. He could still feel the agonising burning of the mace Ntombi had sprayed straight into his eyes. And now everyone was saying he had raped her. That’s how it went, rumours spread like wildfire and the lies got bigger and bigger.

* * *

As the van rounded the corner and approached the court Mzi could hear the shouts.

"Mayife loo nja!" Let the dog die.

Yes, laughed Zakes. They can shout now. But when I’m back on the streets they won’t be laughing. Believe me, I’ll remember their faces.

He let the cigarette drop from his lips and stubbed it out with his foot as the van screeched to a halt. What they don’t realise is that prison is a breeze for me. Nobody messes with me inside. They know what will happen to their families if they do. Anyway, I could do with a break from women’s nagging and bitching. I’m not expecting any love letters behind bars.

In front of the court the crowd had swelled. There were rows of taxis; it looked like the whole of Mzi’s neighbourhood was there. The news vendors were joining in.

"UZakes noMzi basemjiva!" they shouted to roars from the crowd.

Was Ntombi out there amongst them with Olwethu – and those girlfriends of hers – watching, cheering along, hoping he would be sent to jail?

Didn’t they know he was too young to be sentenced? He was a first-time offender and he had told the probation officer that he had been forced to work for Zakes who had threatened his family, and that he was sorry – so sorry for all he had done. But in his heart he felt no remorse for the people whose cars he had stolen, or for Ntombi.

And as for Olwethu, Ntombi’s new boyfriend, he only felt one thing for him and that was revenge. Ntombi and Olwethu had put him here in this van. Wait until he was released. They would be sorry.

* * *

Zakes and Mzi were pulled out of the van, their heads covered with thick grey blankets that hid their faces, but not before Mzi glimpsed the placards: ‘Jail the dogs’ and ‘Enough is Enough – No Bail’. Mzi suddenly felt weak and dizzy, like he was going to faint.

Say goodbye to your friend, Sergeant Ndebele hissed as Zakes was pulled away to another courtroom. He was in a different league from Mzi. He would get time, everybody knew that. There was no way he was going to be granted bail. He had a list of crimes as long as the Constitution. Mzi was alone.

He sat looking down at his shoes as the magistrate told him that this was a preliminary enquiry. He remembered Sergeant Ndebele’s face when he had told Mzi and Zakes that they were going to court.

You’re lucky there wasn’t more evidence. That’s what the sergeant had told him as he had shoved him and Zakes into the van. Sergeant Ndebele had sounded disappointed, like he would have loved to have seen Mzi locked up with Zakes. You’re lucky that you weren’t caught red-handed. He had stared at Mzi like he knew it had happened and he had got off. But I know you were right there. I’m going to find the evidence. And anyway, I know your type, Mzi Mlongeni. You’ll be back. And next time I’ll make sure we put you away. And then the sergeant had given him a hard shove that had sent him sprawling across the back of the van.

Now he was sitting in court, listening to the long legal words being thrown about that he didn’t understand. But he knew enough. He was lucky he was only turning 18 in a few weeks. He was a minor. A schoolkid he knew, Simon, had been caught stealing cigarettes and razor blades from a supermarket, and he didn’t go to jail. He went back to school and just had to go to counselling and do some other stuff.

As he hoped, Mzi was released into the custody of his sister. Good behaviour, he heard. He had heard those words enough. Now he needed to show good behaviour to make sure that he stayed at home, and not at a