Yusuf Azeem Is Not a Hero

by Saadia Faruqi

  “What?” Yusuf couldn’t believe it. “I thought we agreed on Scratch.”

  Danial shrugged easily. “It doesn’t have the same capabilities.”

  Mr. Parker pointed to Yusuf. “Would you have any trouble using the LEGO brick program for your robot?”

  Yusuf couldn’t remember the last time Danial hadn’t backed him up. Or had taken Cameron’s side over his. He shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  Madison made quick notes in her binder. “Copy that, Captain.”

  Mr. Parker motioned to their laptops. “Let’s work on some practice code then, shall we?”

  The week passed quickly. Yusuf watched in disbelief and slight amusement as Danial and Cameron started hanging out together. “Want to share my biryani?” Danial asked Cameron during lunch period on Friday. Everyone else was eating cafeteria pizza, but Danial had brought a big Tupperware container full of fragrant basmati rice.

  “How can I say no to biryani, dude?” Cameron took an extra spoon and started eating. “I haven’t eaten this in months.”

  Danial paused. “Come over to my place anytime. My mom cooks the best biryani.”

  Jared leaned over. “Didn’t Danial kinda hate Cameron?” he whispered.

  Yusuf was still staring. “I thought so too.”

  “So that means I’m next, right?” Jared grinned. “He’s going to start offering me food soon too?”

  Yusuf caught sight of Ethan throwing orange peels all over another kid’s lunch. “Don’t count on it,” he muttered, ducking his head. The week had been great, and he didn’t want to ruin it by having another ugly encounter with Ethan Grant.

  Jared was also looking at his cousin. “His dad beat him that day, you know,” he said softly.

  “What? When?”

  “After your argument with him in the locker room. Principal Williamson must have called Uncle Trevor.” Jared looked down at his pizza. “They were at our house when the call came. Uncle Trevor got really red and almost choked on his food. Then he hit Ethan in the face.”

  Yusuf’s chest constricted. “Really?” he whispered. Nobody deserved to be beaten, not even Ethan.

  Jared was still staring down. “Uncle Trevor told Ethan never to let anyone bully him, especially not those Muslim kids. He said you have to stand up for what’s yours.”

  Yusuf’s chest loosened, and a scowl formed on his face. “Me? I wasn’t bullying him. It was literally the other way around.”

  Jared looked up. “That’s how they think,” he whispered. “That everything is theirs and you guys are taking it over.”

  Yusuf gulped. How could one argue with a person who believed they were right? Who believed that using violence and scare tactics to get what they wanted was okay? “But we’re not taking anything over,” he said slowly. “We only want to live in our home. In peace.”

  Jared nodded. “I see that now. My grandma says you can only make enemies with strangers. If you get to know someone, it’s hard to hate them.”

  Yusuf liked that a lot. “Your grandma is very smart.”

  Jared smiled. He always smiled when he spoke about Mrs. Raymond. “She looks a lot like my mom, you know.”

  “She does? Then you must be so glad to be with her.”

  Jared finished the last of his pizza and stood up. Yusuf raised a hand to stop him. “Wait,” Yusuf said. “I . . . this might be cheesy, but I want you to know that I always pray for your mom to come home soon.” It was a weird thing to admit, but it was the truth.

  Jared’s face crumpled as if he was going to cry, but he nodded and turned away. “Thanks.”

  The bell rang and kids started to file out of the cafeteria. Jared and Yusuf got up and joined the crowd silently. Saba from Sunday school was just ahead of them, her red hijab standing out. She was holding a stack of books in her arms like a shield.

  Yusuf thought about saying hi. He’d never seen Saba with a friend.

  The next minute, somebody pushed past Yusuf. It was Ethan, followed by Sammy. The crowd was thick, but the two boys elbowed their way through. They were headed straight toward Saba. Before Yusuf could wonder why, Ethan was right next to her. “No hats allowed in the school,” he growled and reached up.

  Yusuf watched Ethan’s hand with a strange fascination. He watched as if he was frozen in a movie, watched as Ethan took a fistful of Saba’s red hijab and pulled it viciously downward. Saba screamed and put up her hands to grab the hijab, but he held on to it. They pulled in opposite directions for just a nanosecond, and then it was off.

  The crowd parted as if trying to run away from Ethan. Sammy also took a few steps back, uncertain. On the ground lay the hijab, like a deep red stain. Saba, her black hair disheveled, tears on her face, stood in the middle. In that moment she looked like Aleena, her eyes wide, her mouth quivering. Yusuf realized that apart from that one scream, she hadn’t said a word. The look on her face said everything.

  Ethan was in front of her, hands on hips, his mouth curled in a sneer. He was probably waiting for her to say something. Yusuf unfroze with a snap and hurtled forward toward them as if somebody had pushed him from inside. Abba’s words from a few months ago rushed through his mind. “Inshallah, one day you can also be a hero like your father. I have faith in you!”

  “Hey!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but he knew he had to say something. Do something.

  He almost fell on Ethan, who turned to him, shocked. “What . . . ?”

  Yusuf’s mouth opened and words poured out of him like he was on fire. “How dare you touch another person? How dare you pull her hijab off? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  Ethan took a step back. “I . . .”

  Yusuf drew himself up as tall as he could. “You. Are. A. Bully,” he said quietly. “You’re the one who’s taking over, not us. You’re the one who thinks it’s okay to hurt people and humiliate them, not us. How dare you?”

  With a scoff, Ethan walked away. His footsteps sounded loud and sure, as if he owned the school. Yusuf let out his breath in a whoosh. He felt like his lungs had been starved, and the pizza he’d eaten at lunch sank to the bottom of his stomach. The crowd of kids around him began to talk and point at him. A few gave him a thumbs-up, and someone clapped. “Good job!” a kid from the back called out.

  From the cafeteria, a teacher came running. “What’s going on here?”

  Yusuf wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. He turned toward Saba. A few girls around her were already helping her put her hijab back on. One girl was picking up her books from the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She wiped the tears from her face and straightened her spine. For a split second he wondered if this had happened to her before. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered.

  27

  Saturday club was a disaster. The Freybots tried a basic program on Miss Trashy, but she kept glitching. “Sorry,” Yusuf muttered as the robot kept ramming itself into the bleachers. He’d hardly slept the night before, trying late into the night to create a simple program so that he wouldn’t have to think about what happened to Saba.

  It didn’t work. He kept remembering the bright red of her hijab on the dirty school floor, and Saba’s scared-but-resigned face. The result was a sleepless night, plus a computer program that a six-year-old wouldn’t have normally messed up.

  The rest of the team weren’t at their best either. Danial and Cameron sat together on the bleachers, staring at Miss Trashy as if she’d done something wrong. Madison kept taking too many notes in her binder, then erasing them and starting over. Jared and Tony studied their designs, muttering and shaking their heads.

  Finally Mr. Parker clapped his hands to get their attention. “Okay, clearly nobody is ready to work today,” he said, but he didn’t look mad. “I know y’all are thinking about what happened yesterday. Want to talk about it?”

  Yusuf frowned. “The teachers know about it?”

  “Some of us do. It happened yesterday afternoon, so we haven’t had an offic
ial meeting yet to discuss the incident.”

  Danial looked up, his face haggard. “But why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why aren’t the teachers punishing that horrible Ethan?”

  “Wait . . . ,” Jared protested. Then he stopped, his face red.

  Mr. Parker sighed. “Actually, nobody’s willing to say they saw Ethan Grant. I asked a few kids who were there, but they all say they’re not sure what happened.”

  Yusuf’s eyes narrowed. “I was there. I know what happened.”

  Mr. Parker stood up. “Will you go to the principal with me? Nobody else wants to do anything, but I will. If you want.”

  Yusuf stood up too. “Yes! I want!”

  Cameron burst out, “What about Saba? Did anyone ask her what she wants?”

  Everyone turned to him. “What do you mean?” Danial asked.

  Cameron’s voice was like shards of ice, hard and painful. “He pulled her hijab off, not Yusuf’s. He bullied her. Why don’t you ask her what she wants to have happen?”

  Mr. Parker picked up Miss Trashy from the floor with slow movements. “Saba’s not talking to anyone right now. She just wants to be left alone.”

  Cameron’s shoulders sagged. “Exactly. Sometimes you don’t want anyone to do anything. Sometimes you just want to be left alone.”

  At home, Yusuf decided to talk to Amma about Saba. Even though Amma didn’t wear the hijab, she was a woman, and would probably be able to guess what Saba was feeling. “Amma, can I talk to you?”

  Amma was on the phone. She held up her hand. “I’m on hold with the doctor.”

  “Why?”

  “Aleena’s been coughing nonstop and her breathing is really bad.”

  Abba peeked out of Aleena’s room, his face haggard. “Farrah, forget the doctor. We need to go to the urgent care right now.”

  Amma put down her phone quickly. “Okay, let me start my car.”

  Yusuf’s throat was dry. Abba never came home from the store at this hour. “What’s going on? Can I help?”

  Amma stopped to give him a hurried kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, jaan. She just needs some medicine. Her inhaler isn’t enough for her right now.”

  “Will she be okay?” The thought of Aleena not being okay was . . . something he wasn’t going to think about.

  “Yes, of course!” Abba came out with Aleena in his arms. She was wheezing, but awake. “Say goodbye to your brother, Aleena!”

  “Bye, bhai!” She waved weakly. “Take care of my dollies while I’m gone.”

  “Of course I will,” he choked out. “I’m the best babysitter on the planet.”

  He went outside with them as they put Aleena in Amma’s car. Amma climbed into the back seat with her, fussing with her blanket. “Wait, who’s minding the store?” Yusuf asked suddenly.

  Abba got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “My clueless assistant, but he’s due to go home in half an hour.” He paused, looking at Amma in the rearview mirror. “Maybe I shouldn’t . . .”

  Yusuf squared his shoulders. “No, it’s okay. I can go to the store and take care of things.”

  Amma and Abba both stared at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. It’s literally my second home. I even know where Abba hides his stash of secret weapons.”

  Abba gave a short laugh, but it sounded more like a bark. “It’s only pepper spray,” he said as he backed out of the driveway. “And don’t touch it. You’ll go blind.”

  Yusuf locked the house and jogged the half mile to A to Z Dollar Store. The assistant—his name was Nick and he was a senior at Frey High—was standing outside, looking worried. “Where’s your dad?” he asked. “I have to leave now.”

  Yusuf tried to stand taller. “He sent me. You can go home.”

  Nick shrugged and walked away, looking at his phone. Yusuf went inside and sat on Abba’s chair behind the counter. Rusty came up and rubbed her head on his leg. “Aleena’s going to be okay, Rusty,” he assured her. “It’s not the first time she’s had to go to the urgent care. Once she even went to Conroe in an ambulance, when she was a baby.”

  Rusty meowed her sympathies and jumped into his lap. Yusuf wanted to bury his face in her fur, but the bell over the door jingled and customers came in. “Welcome, how can I help you?” He tried to smile as he said the familiar words. His abba’s words.

  At two o’clock, the customers dwindled. Then Danial walked in, followed by a heavy figure wearing brightly colored clothes. Sameena Aunty. “Assalamo Alaikum,” Yusuf mumbled, throwing a questioning glance at Danial.

  “Um, Aunty was at my house when your mom called,” Danial explained.

  “Oh, dear, how are you holding up?” Sameena Aunty interrupted, looking at Yusuf with concern. “Your sister will be fine, your mother said.”

  “Yes, I know.” Yusuf hadn’t known for sure, but he wasn’t going to let her see his worry. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

  “Nonsense, that’s what neighbors are for. And community members.”

  He’d never thought of her as a neighbor. She lived two miles away, at least. “Thanks.”

  Danial held up a brown bag with YASMIN CAFÉ on the front. It was a new place on Broad Street, full of vegetarian options. “Lunch,” he announced.

  Yusuf wasn’t hungry, but he sat in the back room with Danial and Sameena Aunty anyway. He could see the front door easily from where he was sitting, in case a customer came by. “So, sold anything yet?” Danial asked cheekily.

  Yusuf took a bite of the egg sandwich. “Diapers and some talcum powder.”

  Danial almost choked on his sandwich as he let out a laugh.

  Sameena Aunty threw them a stern glance. “Nothing wrong with either of those things,” she told them. “You boys made good use of them when you were babies.”

  Danial stopped laughing. “How . . . ?”

  “Oh, no need to be embarrassed, child. I used to take care of all the babies when your mothers were working.”

  Yusuf knew Amma had worked briefly in a newspaper office in downtown Frey when he was a baby. He hadn’t known Sameena Aunty had babysat him. “All the babies?” he asked. “Even Saba?”

  Danial gave him a startled look, but Yusuf ignored it. He took off his glasses and put them back on again, trying to clear his head. It was no use. He couldn’t get Saba out of his thoughts.

  Sameena Aunty’s expression had changed. She looked at her sandwich as if it made her nauseous. “That poor girl. Her mother is my best friend. She’s in a terrible state, she is. Can’t stop crying.”

  “The mother or the daughter?” asked Danial.

  Sameena Aunty looked at him sharply, her face set in stone. “Both, of course. Why wouldn’t they be? Pulling off a girl’s hijab is . . . violence, almost.”

  Yusuf’s breath eased a little. So, this was what he’d been feeling since Friday. He’d witnessed violence, but he hadn’t been able to name it. He just knew that what had happened had been awful. Painful. Hurtful. “Violence,” he whispered.

  Sameena Aunty nodded slowly. “It’s not the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last. These people, they know what they fear, and they want to get rid of it. Who cares if anyone gets hurt in the process?”

  Yusuf was astonished. He’d never heard Sameena Aunty say anything like that before. He had a sudden thought. “Has it . . . ever happened to you?”

  She focused on her sandwich again. Yusuf thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she replied, “Yes, when I was fifteen. It was my first day wearing the hijab in high school. Someone called me a terrorist and pulled it off me.”

  Danial’s eyes were round as saucers. “Who?”

  Yusuf spoke at the same time. His question was different. “When?”

  Sameena Aunty stared at her food, but Yusuf knew she wasn’t really seeing it. “It was my best friend, actually,” she whispered. “New York City, September 12, 2001.”

  Journal entry 9

  November 23, 2001
<
br />   Silky is missing. She’s been missing for two weeks now. I’ve put up flyers I made in art class, and pasted them everywhere with Sarah’s help. “Don’t worry, Silky will be back,” Amma keeps saying. But she hasn’t come back yet, and I keep wondering if she’s lost, and is lying somewhere hurt. Then those thoughts make me choke up, so I think of something else. Anything else.

  I sat at my desk this morning and stared at my poster of Muhammad Ali and tried not to think of all the horrible things going on in my life right now.

  “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” Muhammad Ali used to say. Maybe if I pretend I’m floating in the air, everything—9/11 and the terrorists and Jonathan not being my friend anymore—will all disappear.

  I try all morning to float in my mind, but it doesn’t help. Muhammad Ali keeps looking at me from the wall, as if he knows I can’t do it.

  Thanksgiving was okay. Abba made barbecued turkey and chicken, plus a few kebab, and all our neighbors showed up. They also brought their own foods, like daal and biryani and sweet potatoes for the barbecue. The kids played in our backyard and out on the street, while the adults sat around on plastic chairs and discussed politics (what else?). Before eating, we prayed for the Afghan family’s relatives to be safe, and for terrorists to stay away from our country, and for the war to be over. One aunty told us her son had been arrested. She didn’t know why. They hadn’t seen him in weeks. We prayed for him too. Farrah baji said he used to be in her class, a straight-A student who never got in trouble. “You stay inside as much as possible, Rahman,” she told me bitterly. “Or you may disappear one day too.”

  I think she was joking.

  After Thanksgiving dinner, Abba took the three of us out in his car. Just to do something good for someone else, he told us. Farrah baji rolled her eyes, but Sarah and I were ready for anything. Turns out, we were going to a church three streets over, to serve food to the homeless. Sacred Heart, it was called, with a statue of Mary holding the baby Jesus in her arms at the entrance. “I saw a notice in the paper the other day,” Abba told us. “They need volunteers.”

  The pastor of the church came to greet us. He had gray hair and the kindest smile I ever saw. Abba and he became immediate friends, and they talked nonstop while we served food. I ignored them and focused on the people we were serving. Adults, mostly, but a few kids too. They all held out their plates politely, like they were in some fancy restaurant. My sisters stood on either side of me, ladling soup and handing out garlic bread, while I piled a big heap of turkey on each plate. With every movement, I felt some small part of my anger and sadness melt away and be replaced with a little bit of warmth.