Chapter 1: The Queens of Northcliff

 

At Northcliff High, five girls ran the whole school like it was their own turf. Everyone called them the Golden Girls not because they were kind or sweet, but because they had money, looks, and power. Even the teachers treated them differently. There was Lulu, the leader. Tall, light-skinned, always in expensive clothes. Her dad was some big-shot businessman who drove a G-Wagon and never looked twice at anyone who earned less than six figures. Then there was Zinhle, the one with the sharp tongue and even sharper nails. If Lulu was the queen, Zinhle was the general ready to clap back at anyone who even breathed wrong near them. “Don’t test me, babes,” was her favourite line.

Amogelang was the soft one well, that’s what people thought. She had the “sweet girl” act on lock, always smiling, always polite. But deep down, she was the biggest snitch, always stirring the pot behind the scenes and acting innocent afterward. Kea was the party girl. Loud, wild, and always trending on Instagram. She didn’t care about school much, but she always had the best weaves, the latest Jordans, and a new man every term.

Lastly, there was Bonolo, quiet but dangerous. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, she could finish you with just one sentence. She had that rich-girl stare that made you feel like you were nothing. Together, they were unstoppable. They walked the corridors like they owned the place bags swinging, hair done, nails fresh. If you weren’t in their circle, you were nothing. People either feared them, followed them, or just stayed out the way.

Every week, someone new became a target. If they didn’t like the way you dressed, laughed, or even looked at them they’d come for you. But no one ever dared to fight back. They were protected. Their parents donated money to the school. Their brothers were in gangs or owned clubs. They weren’t just girls they were a brand. And behind all their beauty and charm, there was something dark. Lies, backstabbing, and secrets that no one dared speak about. These girls were always posting fire stories on Insta and TikTok—concerts, fancy brunches, designer shopping sprees, yacht parties in Cape Town during school holidays. Every post looked like it came out of a fashion magazine. Their followers? Massive. Their likes? Instant. Their captions? Always lowkey shady but classy.

They threw the best parties real invite-only vibes. If you didn’t get that DM or sneak in, shame, you’d just hear the wild stories at school on Monday and feel the FOMO hard. Everyone wanted to be part of their world even if it was just once. But here’s the real tea: not everything was as perfect as it seemed. Behind the stunning selfies and group poses, behind the glam and the money… there were secrets. Heavy ones. The kind of secrets that could burn everything down. Themba was smart. Like, crazy smart. One of those kids who always had his hand up in class and actually enjoyed writing essays. But at Northcliff High, brains didn’t always matter especially if you didn’t come with vibes, money, or a surname people knew. Themba came from the township. His uniform was always neat, but you could tell it had been passed down. His shoes were scuffed, and his backpack looked like it had seen better days. He kept to himself most of the time, chilled at the library during breaks, and didn’t bother anyone. But that didn’t stop people from bothering him. Especially The Golden girls.

They didn’t pick on him straight-up, like bullies in a movie. Nah, their style was more slick, more subtle but still kak cruel. They’d “ask” to borrow his homework, all sweet and fake smiles, and because Themba didn’t want drama, he always handed it over. Next thing? They’d hand it in with their names on it. His own work. And when the teacher questioned the matching answers? Guess who got blamed? Yoh, the shame was too much. One time, Kea loudly asked in front of the whole class, “Themba, why don’t you just tell your mom to buy you new shoes?” And then laughed like it was the funniest thing ever. The others joined in, pretending it was just jokes. But it wasn’t jokes. Themba knew the difference. People saw it. Some laughed along, some looked away, but no one said anything. Because who was gonna stand up to The Golden girls? Themba felt invisible, even when the spotlight was on him. Used, laughed at, framed. And the worst part? The teachers never believed him. It was always his word against theirs. But Themba wasn’t just smart he was watching. Every move. Every whisper. And while they thought he was just some poor kid they could use and throw away… Themba was quietly planning.