by Sabina Khan
“Jordyn, I swear if you don’t shut up—”
“What? You’ll send dear old daddy after me too?”
“Just shut the hell up, Jordyn,” Priya says, tugging at my arm to pull me away.
But the way Alexandra and Jordyn are looking at me makes me realize I gave them exactly the reaction they wanted, and I can’t let it go.
“Why don’t you run back to Tyler and tell him he won’t get away with this?” I say to them coldly. “He and his dad are going to get what they deserve.”
Alexandra narrows her eyes at me. “Is that a threat?”
Priya is pulling at me in earnest. “It’s not worth it, Zara,” she says. “Let’s go.”
I allow her to guide me away, but my entire body is shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of pure rage before. I turn to Priya when we’re just outside the lab.
“I can’t go in there right now,” I say.
Priya puts her hand on my arm, and the coolness is soothing against my heated skin.
“Do you wanna get out of here? We can go and get milkshakes.”
I shake my head. “I just need to be alone.”
“Are you sure?” She looks so worried that I feel guilty.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I say, forcing a smile. “Plus, I don’t want you to miss class. Otherwise how’re you going to help me later on tonight?”
She smiles hesitantly. “Okay, but if you need me, I’m only a text away.”
I walk out to a secluded spot near the parking lot and sit under a tree, soaking in the sunshine and trying to calm myself. But I just can’t shake my anger over what Jordyn and Alexandra said. And then I wonder whether I should stop being angry. My anger is warranted, and maybe that’s what will get me through this. But how do I stop this rumor from getting out? Does everyone know? And how many of them will stop to assess the veracity of the accusations? I need to talk to Tyler and tell him to stop spreading these vicious rumors. I know his suspension is over and he’s on the field with most of the football team right now, because Nick’s there too. I walk over and sit on the bleachers. I spot Tyler immediately. I wait until they take a water break and walk over to them. Nick sees me coming and runs over to me.
“What’re you doing here?” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be in chem lab?”
“I need to talk to Tyler,” I say. I can see a group of the guys eyeing me from where they stand. Tyler is there too. I stare at him, and to my surprise, he walks over.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” he says.
Nick stands up straighter and opens his mouth to answer, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“Yes, but I have something to say first.” My mouth is suddenly dry, and the familiar knot is back in my stomach. But I can’t back down.
“Sure, go ahead,” he says. Something’s off. I can’t tell at first, but then I realize his usual smirk is missing.
“You need to stop spreading lies about my father,” I say. “Isn’t it enough that you almost killed him?”
He turns red, the color rising from his neck like a stain. His friends are paying attention now, and two of them walk over to us. It’s his sidekicks, Luke and Michael.
“Everything all right here?” says Michael.
“It’s fine. Just get out of here,” Tyler says.
“Sure, man. Just making sure she’s not giving you any more trouble.”
I fight the urge to spit in his face.
Tyler ignores him and turns back to me.
“I didn’t say anything to anyone,” he tells me.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” I say derisively. “Jordyn and Alexandra just came up with it all by themselves.”
“What happened?” Nick says. “What did they say?”
“They’re going around saying my dad’s a terrorist.” I narrow my eyes at Tyler. “But I’m sure you don’t have anything to do with that.”
“Look, I know you won’t believe me,” Tyler says. “And I don’t blame you, but I really haven’t said anything like that.”
“Just tell them to watch their mouths,” I say, turning on my heel and walking away.
Nick runs after me, but I’m too angry to stop walking. He starts to jog backward as he talks to me.
“Hey, can I come to the hospital after school?”
“Yeah. Sure. Meet me in the parking lot. I’ll give you a ride.”
The rest of the day is uneventful, but my run-in has left a bitter taste in my mouth. Corpus isn’t exactly huge, and people talk. Right now, it’s only my school, but soon? Once a rumor like this gets out, it won’t be long before my parents hear it. I have a bad feeling that things are just going to get worse.
Priya catches up with me at lunchtime.
“Where did you disappear to?” she says as soon as she sees me walking toward our usual spot by the library. “I was looking for you after chem lab. Ms. Daniels wasn’t thrilled that you missed today.”
“What did you tell her?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Priya says. “She saw you outside and wanted to know why you didn’t come in.”
“Shit.” I’m already so behind, and now Ms. Daniels will think I was cutting class. “I’ll go talk to her after school.”
“Nick said he was going to the hospital to see Uncle,” she says. “Is it okay if I come too?”
“Yeah, sure. When did you talk to Nick?”
“He texted me just now,” she says. “Said you yelled at Tyler or something?”
I tell her what happened at the football field.
“I don’t care what he tells me,” I say.
“I don’t blame you,” she says. “I wouldn’t trust him either after everything that’s happened.”
“Right? I wish Chloe would understand that.”
“What happened with Chloe?” Priya says. “My God, you don’t tell me anything anymore.”
“Remember the other day, when Tyler brought flowers?”
She nods. “Yeah, that was really creepy.”
“Well, Chloe thinks poor Tyler is this innocent baby and it’s not his fault that his dad is a racist asshole.”
“Are you serious? That’s classic white people. When a brown person commits a crime, our entire race is blamed for at least three generations.”
“That’s exactly what I thought. I mean, Tyler’s not a child. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Priya shakes her head. “It makes me so mad. We have to keep proving our innocence over and over again.”
“For something we never did,” I add. “It’s ridiculous.”
“And now you’re supposed to feel sorry for the jerk who put your father in the hospital.”
“I swear if Abbu had been the one with a gun, he would be in some detention center somewhere by now. And we’d be deported.”
“So, how did you leave things with Chloe?” Priya asks.
I shrug. “I don’t really know. I sort of just left.”
Suddenly I feel guilty. Maybe I was being too harsh.
“You’re feeling bad, aren’t you?” Priya says with a knowing smile.
I nod. “A teeny bit, yes.”
“You should talk to her.”
“Yeah, I’ll call her tonight.”
We finish our lunch and head back to class. I’m exhausted and can’t wait to see Abbu, especially now that Nick and Priya will also be there to keep us company.
I meet up with Nick and Priya after school, and we pick up pizza on the way to see Abbu. Murshed Uncle and Ammi are there playing cards with him when we arrive. I tell them to go home and get some rest, but Ammi refuses. Luckily, Murshed Uncle is brilliant and says he needs some help shopping for Ayesha’s wedding. Ammi can’t resist a good shopping spree, so they both go off.
“Abbu, we got your favorite,” I say, waving a slice of pizza in front of his face. “Jalapeños, ground meat, and onions.”
“Thank you,” Abbu says after taking a bite and closing his eyes as he savors it. “I didn�
�t know how much longer I could survive hospital food.”
“This is really good pizza, Uncle,” Priya says, grabbing a piece.
“Chloe doesn’t like onions on her pizza,” I say. All three of them stare at me in utter confusion.
“I don’t trust people who don’t like onions,” Nick says, almost to himself. He looks like he’s in a food trance.
“So how was school, beta?” Abbu asks. “I’m so happy you went back.”
“It was okay,” I say. “Lots to catch up on.” There’s no way I’m going to tell him about the rumors. And for once, thankfully, Nick isn’t opening his big mouth and ruining everything. Even he knows that we need to keep this to ourselves.
A couple of hours later, Ammi and Murshed Uncle come back, and we leave. Nick has plans with his grandmother, and Priya and I go to my house to work on our calculus homework. Before she leaves, she makes me promise to clear things up with Chloe, so I text her.
A few minutes later, my phone pings.
Zorro needs a walk, and he loves the park. I get him ready and head on over. He whines as we walk past Lola and Felix’s house. He’s been missing them ever since they went camping. We meet up with Chloe and sit close to the water. I let the leash go as long as it can so Zorro can run in and out of the water. He loves to play with the waves, and it’s the cutest thing. We sit quietly, watching him as he runs back every now and then with little treasures he finds. He collects them at our feet: a rock, a couple of shells, and some sticks all wrapped up in seaweed.
“Zara, I’m sorry for the other day.”
I draw lines in the wet sand with one of Zorro’s sticks but don’t say anything.
“C’mon, stop being mad at me.” She nudges me gently. Then she picks up a stick of her own and draws a heart in the sand. Then she writes our names in it.
I try hard not to smile. She adds a couple of arrows through the heart.
“Oh my God, you’re such a dork.” I look at her, and a smile breaks free.
She kisses me on the nose and then my mouth, and her lips taste of the ocean. Then, all of a sudden, we’re being pelted with wet sand.
“Zorro. Stop that.” I try to sound stern, but I’m already laughing. Zorro takes this as a clear sign of encouragement and goes into Energizer Bunny mode. Soon we’re rolling around in the wet sand, giggling uncontrollably. A few passersby give us looks, but we ignore them. It feels good to be carefree again. When it’s time to head home, we take a dip in the ocean with all our clothes on. But at least the sand’s washed off, and it’s so hot that we’re dry in no time.
“Zara, listen, I’m sorry for what I said about Tyler.”
We’re walking slowly, watching the sun set, its fiery orange glow reflecting off the water.
“It’s fine, really—”
“No, I don’t think it is,” she says rather firmly. “I don’t want to be one of those people.”
“What people?” I say.
“You know … the ones who’re always making excuses for dumbasses like Tyler.”
I squeeze her hand. I realize I’m relieved that I don’t have to be the one to point this out to her.
“I’m glad we agree,” I say with a smile. “It’s really hard, you know. Feeling like I have to justify my anger.”
“You won’t ever have to with me,” she says. “Never again. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I guess I’ll never know just how much crap you have to deal with on a daily basis. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe that it’s happening to you.”
I stop walking and turn to look at her.
“Tha—”
“Also, the next time I say something stupid, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s not your job to educate me and you can tell me that, but please just don’t shut me out.”
“I app—”
“You have to promise. I hated it. And I know you’re going through so much with your dad and all, so I didn’t want to bother you and—”
I pull her close and kiss her. It’s the only way I can get her to stop talking. But I also really want to kiss her because she said exactly what I needed to hear and I think I love her. For the next few minutes, I don’t think about any of the ugliness in my life, and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And even if it’s only for a little while, it still feels undeniably good.
Zorro’s cold nose on my ankle reminds me that we need to head home.
“How’re your parents doing?” she asks, lacing her fingers between mine.
I tell her everything that’s happened, and by the time I get home, I feel lighter than I have in a long time.
The next afternoon, Dr. Mehta comes in to discharge Abbu. I’m worried that this will mean he goes directly to jail—but Shireen Khala assures me it’s under control. As we’d hoped, the accusations against Abbu are beginning to fall apart. At least two neighbors saw the incident, and neither believes that Abbu was carrying a weapon. The Bensons also have a doorbell camera that may have captured the whole thing—the police have gotten a warrant and are reviewing it now. Abbu’s not off the hook, but right now the charges against him are on hold.
It’s the weekend, and Ammi goes off to deal with hospital paperwork while I call Nick to give him the great news. He and his parents are there even before Ammi comes back into the room. Nick has the biggest smile on his face as he bends to give my father a hug and there’s a lump in my throat as I watch them, but my stomach is just one giant knot of anxiety because I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not over yet. I take a deep breath and remind myself to savor this moment. The last few weeks have proven that I have to be prepared for anything.
A couple of hours later, Abbu is finally back at home and resting, while Ammi and I are floating around on a cloud of joy, preparing all his favorite dishes. The tantalizing smell of nihari fills the kitchen as I prepare the raita and pulao. Zorro is running circles around our feet, hoping desperately that a tasty morsel will find its way to the floor. I want everything to be perfect for when Abbu comes down, which should be any minute now since Ammi’s gone to check on him. The roti dough is sitting in neat little balls, and I begin to roll them out one by one, throwing them on the tawa until they are puffy and hot. I’ve already made the borhani, Abbu’s favorite buttermilk drink, and it’s chilling in the fridge to let the black salt, cumin, and mint settle in.
I hear my parents at the top of the stairs and run up to help Abbu walk down. He’s still quite weak, and the doctor has recommended physical therapy for the next month to get his muscles working properly again.
“Why did you two do so much?” Abbu asks as soon as he sits down at the table. “You must be exhausted.”
“Iqbal, my jaan, we are so grateful that, Allah ke fazl se, you are back home,” Ammi says. “All this is nothing.”
“But, Abbu, remember what the doctor said,” I say. “You have to be careful not to overdo it. So, you can only have a little bit of everything.”
“This feels like cruel and unusual punishment,” Abbu says with a smile, pulling me closer for a hug.
Ammi begins to serve the food, and then we’re eating and talking like we usually do. Abbu has a lot to catch up on, but soon he starts to fade. He needs to rest, and so I bring him up to bed while Ammi clears the dishes.
“Zara, stay with me for a minute, beta,” Abbu says when I’ve tucked him in. I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Abbu, try to get some rest.”
“I will, but first just tell me one thing. How is everything really?”
“I told you, Abbu, things are fine.” I don’t want to go into too much detail and get him all worked up.
He looks at me closely. “Are you sure? I know you don’t want to worry Ammi, but you can tell me.”
“Everything is fine, Abbu.” I’m surprised at how easily the lie slips out. But my worries about Abbu’s health override all my own anxiety.
I leave him just as he’s about to doze off and join Ammi downstairs.
�
�Did he fall asleep yet?” Ammi asks, wringing out the kitchen towel over the sink and shaking it out.
“Yes, just now.” I pop a piece of leftover halwa in my mouth. “Ammi,” I say when she’s sitting next to me, “do you think it’s ever going to be normal again?”
Ammi takes a deep breath. “We can only hope, hai na, beta?”
So, that’s what it all boils down to. Hope. We can do everything the right way, follow all the rules, work hard, but ultimately it all comes down to hoping that things will work out, hoping that the next ignorant racist who comes at us doesn’t do even more damage. Somehow, I cannot allow myself to accept that things will always be like this. They have to change. I have to make sure of it.
With Abbu resting and recovering at home, Murshed Uncle goes back home to his family. I am sorry to see him go, but understand why he must.
As if to make up for his absence, we start getting visitors. Some we don’t get to see often, so we’re thrilled when they come over. Others, not so much.
Officers Nolte and Hernandez have been over—not to arrest Abbu but to get his side of the story. Shireen Khala is there, recording the whole thing, as they take him through the night. I want to listen in, but Ammi and I are shooed away. Abbu doesn’t want us to hear it.
When it’s over, the officers look satisfied, and so does Shireen Khala. I take this as a good sign.
Nobody mentions trespassing. I take that as a good sign too.
More visitors come. Chloe’s hanging with us, and we’re just about to start a movie, when the doorbell rings.
“Zareen Aunty,” I say, trying to hide my dismay by quickly rearranging my mouth into a smile. “Assalaam alaikum. Please come in.”
“Zara, walaikum assalaam. Masha Allah, you’re all grown up,” she says, as if she didn’t just see me at a wedding earlier this year. “I hope your parents are home.”
“Yes, of course, they’ll be happy to see you.”