Free No Turning Back by Beverley Naidoo

however, was how Judy was talking to her father. She didn’t seem at all scared to say what she wanted.
    “Well, it can only be on a trial basis, do you understand, Jude?” Mr. Danny paused. “And I tell you, Jude, if Ada doesn’t like him, he’ll have to go. She’s a good judge of people, and we’ll know soon enough what she makes of this young man!
    “Okay! I agree!” Judy’s voice rose. It sounded cheerful.
    Sensing that Mr. Danny and his daughter were about to come out of the office, Sipho hastily knocked on the door.
    “I need the dustpan, please,” he said.
    Mr. Danny looked at him steadily for a few moments, stroking down the ends of his mustache with his thumb and forefinger before running his hand back over his head as if to make his hair flat. Sipho watched the dark tufts bounce back up. Judy looked from her father to Sipho and back again.
    “Look here, Sipho, I have a suggestion. I can give you somewhere to sleep at my house for the time being, and in the daytime you can come to work here in the shop. We can see how that works. What do you say?”
    Sipho didn’t know what to say. It was confusing. What would it be like to sleep in this white person’s house? He had been waiting to finish his work so he could go and find Jabu and the others to see if they were all right. There was nowhere for them to sleep except on the streets. The pavements would be hard, freezing cold and also dangerous. And yet here he was being offered a place in a house, under a roof, and probably a bed with blankets.
    “Why don’t you just come with us and see.” Judy offered, breaking the silence.
    “Thank you, m…” He was about to say “miss,” but stopped himself.
    “Thank you, Mr. Danny, sir,” he said.

12. A Warm Bed
    F rom the back of Mr. Danny’s car, Sipho thought he saw Jabu. But he couldn’t be sure. They were driving past Checkers in the gray light that gets pulled over everything as the sun goes down. He had hoped the traffic lights would turn red to give him a chance to look properly. But they were green, and the car swept past the corner with only time for a quick glance at some figures crouched around a small fire on the other side of the road. One had a hood. That could have been Jabu.
    Sipho recognized the place where he and the others “asked money” from motorists. A small boy, younger than him, was standing on the traffic island in the middle of the road as they drove past. Sipho could see him shivering a little. How odd it was to be in one of the cars, feeling warm air blowing from underneath the seat, and looking out at someone who was cold and alone.
    Soon they had left the busy road with its moving streams of red and yellow lights and weretraveling down streets with a mixture of houses and apartment buildings. Slowing down in front of a building with steps leading up from the pavement, Mr. Danny pressed his horn lightly. From behind the curtains of a second-floor window, Sipho saw a face appear and disappear.
    “My friend Portia lives here,” said Judy, turning around to Sipho. “She’s coming over for the night.”
    “I can’t understand how you girls find so much to talk about!” Mr. Danny joked. “I would have thought you saw enough of each other in school all week!”
    “You’re just antisocial, Dad!” retorted Judy, as a black girl in a pink track suit came running down the steps and waved up at the window above. Someone was holding a baby and waving the baby’s hand. Judy leaned over to the back and opened the car door.
    “Hi, Portia! Your little brother is so cute,” she said, waving up at the baby.
    Portia climbed into the backseat next to Sipho.
    “Hello, Mr. Lewis! Thanks for collecting me,” she said, smiling. “You know, Judy, my little brother isn’t quite so cute when he cries at night!”
    “Well, he’s certainly cuter than my brother David!” replied Judy.
    “That’s hardly fair, Jude,” reprimanded Mr. Danny.
    Changing the conversation, Judy now