You Must Be Layla

by Yassmin Abdel-Magied

  With that, Layla’s hands flew onto her face as she tried to stop the tears from falling. WHY WAS SHE ALWAYS CRYING? Ya Allah, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! She was supposed to come up with a brilliant idea, win the competition, prove them all wrong, get her scholarship back. Now, she was stuck with an idea she knew was doomed to fail, and she didn’t even know how to get started!

  Silence fell around the table, punctuated only by Layla’s sniffles.

  ‘Layla, Layla …’ the twins piped up, their voices high. ‘What is the idea?’

  ‘Aywa,’ said Baba. ‘Let’s hear the idea before we get too caught up in whether or not it’s a good one, mmm?’

  Layla wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked down at her hands, the indents that her jeans had made on the top of her fingers visible, and a few small hairs popping out just underneath her knuckle sitting crooked. ‘Well …’ She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Well, I told Mr Gilvarry that I could make a robot actuator out of edible gummy worms.’

  Silence fell around the table again, but this time, there seemed to be slight confusion.

  Then Sami jumped up. ‘Did you say gummy worms?’

  Yousif followed up. ‘Like those delicious things we get from the shop down the road?’

  Layla nodded.

  ‘You’re going to make robots out of gummy worms?’ they both said together excitedly, eyes wide. ‘YAYYYYYYY!!!’

  Bless their little bamboo socks. They were always so enthusiastic about everything she did. Of course, they thought it was a good idea. Delicious edible robots would definitely be exciting for a couple of kids. But an edible actuator was not useful to anyone else. Layla turned to look at her mother and father, secretly hoping they would contradict the story she was telling herself, secretly hoping they would be just as excited as the twins, but they were not.

  Her mother and father were both looking at her with befuddled and slightly confused expressions.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen this combination of faces before! Layla’s mind registered the moment as funny, despite the misery of the situation.

  Even Ozzie had paused, his hand halfway to his mouth, bread and cow tongue in his fingers forgotten as he squinted at his little sister, trying to figure out if it was a joke. The gravy from the tongue dripped down onto his white shirt, but nobody noticed.

  ‘What … What …’ Her dad shook his head, as if it would help him understand the situation better. ‘How did you go from making something useful, like a tool to help de-weed the patio, to something so random, like an actuator that you might be able to eat? How would you even be able to make it safe to eat?’ Baba leaned back in his chair. ‘Although, that being said, I am glad you know what an actuator actually is. That’s a win!’

  CHAPTER 15

  LAYLA had a plan. She dropped her enormous backpack (full of Mr Gilvarry’s books!) at the 8A homeroom, then grabbed a book about material design that Gilvarry had given her and made her way toward the tech building. Even though the idea was a little bit ridiculous even to her, she was determined to make something of it. Maybe she would discover something exciting and exotic, kind of like how penicillin was discovered. That was what she told Mama anyway, every time she wanted to avoid doing the dishes. ‘I’m just following in the footsteps of the great Dr Alexander Fleming, Ma, who made his biggest discovery because of some dirty dishes!’ Her mother remained unconvinced that neglecting her chores was going to make Layla the next Alexander Fleming. Well, it was her mother’s loss, Layla had concluded.

  Textbook tucked under her arm, she strode across the oval toward the tech building. Her long maroon skirt made a thudding sound as she walked, like pieces of cardboard flapping in the wind. Layla hated that sound – it announced her presence and made her feel conspicuous whenever she was walking in a group with anyone else. Like a squeak in a shoe, it was slightly embarrassing for some reason. All the other girls had shorter skirts, and those never made any noise at all.

  But Layla had learned to adjust, as she always did. And clearly, the skirt wasn’t impeding her speed in any way, because she cut across the oval in record time, hurried by the thought of what possible robot inventions she could work on. Yes, she was worried about the scholarship; yes, she missed Dina; yes, she really wanted to go to that party but didn’t think she was going to be able to and needed to come up with a decent excuse fast; yes, she hated what Peter had put her through; and yes, she had no idea of what she was doing with this gosh darn gummy worm project – or GORM for short – but if there was one thing Layla did love, it was an adventure, and a problem to solve. And by golly, wasn’t this a problem to solve. Channel the JAMEL!

  Layla reached the building, collected a bunch of skirt material in one hand, lifting the hem almost up to her knee, before she bound up the stairs to the tech room. The young student was quite the sight, hijab flying as she sidestepped left to right up the steps, deftly avoiding drips of water from the rock above, a look of joy on her face. Layla loved moments like these – quiet seconds where she imagined she was part of a movie sequence or a video game, the drips of water were toxic waste and the walls were closing in, threatening to crush her if she didn’t get up to the next level in time. Here, in her imagination, the floor was lava, and she was the only one with the unique set of skills and gifts that would allow her to pass this level and proceed to the next stage of the game. She had speed, agility and a protective armour (her hijab). She was Layla, the Queen.

  The tech room was dim as she approached, and the lights flickered on as she walked through the door, switched on by her movement. With the light came the familiar hum of fluorescent lights warming up, and Layla looked around, eyes adjusting to the space. She breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of pine and varnish, silicon and steel. The possibilities in this room were endless – it was like walking into a pantry with all the raw materials and utensils to bake any kind of dessert you wanted – where do you start, when you have all the options to make anything?

  But she wasn’t here to think about woodwork, that would be for another time. Layla walked to the middle of the room and pulled up a stool at the central table, popped herself on and cracked open the book in front of her. Dust flew out in front of her, specs visible in the ray of light coming through the windows in the roof. The book smelled musty, and as Layla flicked through some pages were stuck together from age.

  Hmm, there must be something in here about edible materials. She tried the index and checked ‘e’ for edible. It was so weird not being able to press Control + F and find what she needed, but she had to do this the old-school way.

  But what was she even looking for? Layla put the book down on the workbench, the thick hardback textbook making a loud slapping noise against the benchtop, more dust flying. She coughed, waving her hands in front of her in an effort to disperse the dust cloud. Pursing her lips, she leaned back in the stool, her hands gripping the stool legs for balance, and then pushed the stool back with her feet on the ground, so only two of the stool feet were touching the cement workshop floor. Layla searched her memory for something that might be useful. What was that material she was researching that was kind of like a gummy worm?

  Ah! Silicon!

  Releasing her hands, she threw her weight forward to keep the stool from tipping, almost losing balance completely. Wah! Layla threw her hands forward, her fingertips gripping the edge of the workbench to stop her from falling over completely. She laughed to herself quietly, looking around to make sure nobody had seen her nearly completely stack it. Fortunately, the room was still very empty and silent, except for the faint sound of a kookaburra from outside.

  Layla licked her index finger – oh, the taste of dust! – and started flicking through the index again, looking for silicon. Page 315, the index informed her. Good Lord, there was a whole chapter on silicon. This was perfect.

  Layla spent the next hour reading about silicon; how it worked, what it was used for, how it was made. She heard a few faint sounds in the d
istance, but paid little attention to them, too lost in understanding the silicon moulding process.

  I guess I can just think of gummy worms as silicon, yeh? If she was able to melt some gummy worms together, she was sure it would be the same as silicon. It was that rubber stuff at the bottom of the shower door that kept the water from leaking out. What was she going to make though?

  Layla thought back to the first tech lesson and remembered what Mr Gilvarry had said about brainstorming. Nobody’s first idea was spectacular so it was important to keep redesigning and reiterating. He’d told them to fill their sketchbooks with their thought processes, failed ideas and brilliant solutions.

  Layla fetched her sketchbook, then looked around for a pen or pencil to start sketching. Aha! There was a pencil lying on one of the other workbenches, seemingly forgotten by someone. Layla picked it up and rolled it between her fingers, savouring its round, smooth surface. Something about beautifully shaped objects made her happy, and this pencil, with its matt-black finish and elegantly simple design, drew her in. She cracked open the sketchbook, flicked over to an empty page then ran her hands over the crisp, white sheets. Taking a deep breath in, she wrote neatly at the top of the right-hand page: ‘Brainstorming: Gummy Worm Actuator’. The pencil made a satisfying sound as she titled the page, and she smiled and began to sketch.

  Her pencil ran across the pages, taking a life of its own. Time passed, then there was a rattling behind her and suddenly the workshop door slammed open.

  ‘Layla! There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you! We almost called your parents.’

  Mr Gilvarry and Ms T were standing in the doorway, the sunlight casting shadows into the room, making them stark silhouettes. Layla sat back from the sketchbook and faced the pair, startled.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, you missed first period – do you know what time it is?’

  Layla looked at the clock on the wall. Whoa! It was almost morning tea – where had the time gone?

  ‘Oh no!’ Layla dropped the pencil and clasped her hands over her mouth. ‘I’ve been sitting here all morning?’ she asked incredulously. ‘I’m so sorry, I must have lost track of time!’

  ‘It’s fine now that we’ve found you, but you will have to catch up on your missed maths lesson,’ Ms T said kindly.

  She really wasn’t so bad. The two of them had bonded since the chat about forgiveness.

  ‘Mr Gilvarry has told me you’re working hard on a robot for the Grand Designs Tourismo – is that what you’ve been doing?’

  Layla nodded. ‘It’s not going very well so far, but I was doing some brainstorming sketches,’ she said, gesturing at the book in front of her.

  ‘Sketches are a great idea. Good to know you were listening in class, Layla,’ Gilvarry said, his large frame now inside the room, propped up against a workbench. ‘How are you going?’ He strained his eyes to look at the sketchbook, and then chuckled. ‘It looks like you still need a bit of help there, lass!’

  Layla sighed, before pressing her lips together. One side of her mouth involuntarily pulled up into a half smile as she shrugged.

  ‘Yeh, I’m still working on the idea. I mean, I know I want to make it out of gummy worms, but I want it to be more than just an actuator. I want to make the actuator, like, do something.’

  Ms T furrowed her brows. ‘What is an actuator, Layla?’

  Layla smiled. She had done a bit of research last night, just for moments like this.

  ‘Well, Ms T,’ she started, straightening her back and assuming a formal voice, ‘an actuator is, like, a kind of motor that’s responsible for moving something. It converts types of energy into motion.’ She paused, and her eyes looked to Mr Gilvarry for confirmation.

  He nodded, and Layla continued explaining, relieved.

  ‘The energy can come from something like air, electricity, water, heat or magnets. The actuator takes that energy and makes something move.’

  Ms T nodded slowly. ‘Oh, okay,’ she said. ‘So, what would the point be of making a gummy worm actuator?’

  This was the question Layla wasn’t sure she had an answer to, but she gave it a go.

  ‘Well, they’ll be edible – and who doesn’t want to eat a part of a robot!’ Layla forced a grin on her face.

  She was going to make this work, whether it had a point or not! Ms T smiled and nodded, though she didn’t seem that convinced.

  Hmm, I might have to work on my marketing skills.

  Though it seemed Mr Gilvarry wasn’t so interested in the purpose of the actuator as much as he was in the technical side of things.

  ‘Have you thought about what energy source you will use to activate it?’ he asked.

  Layla shook her head.

  ‘Okay. Well, in this workshop, you have access to both air and electricity, so I’d start by thinking about those options.’ Gilvarry motioned to the pneumatic air hose coiled at the back of the workshop near the hand tools.

  Layla had thought that was a firehose, but closer inspection indicated otherwise.

  ‘Pneumatic will probably be easier and safer and, well, possibly more inventive,’ Gilvarry mused.

  Layla squinted her eyes, trying to imagine what would happen.

  ‘So, like, I should design something that we can pump air into so that it can make the whole thing move in a certain way?’ she asked. Her teacher nodded.

  She couldn’t believe that she had the beginnings of an idea that could work!

  Gilvarry, who by now had wandered off toward the pneumatic hose and rig set up, turned back and projected his voice across the room. ‘I think you’re on to something!’ His voice boomed, echoes bouncing off the walls.

  Ms T, who had settled onto a stool on the workbench next to Layla, stood up. ‘All right, Layla. It’s time to get back. I won’t report you this time because I know you were here working hard, but you can’t make a habit of skipping class, okay?’

  Layla internally breathed a sigh of relief. She really was shocked that so much time had passed without her realising it, but she couldn’t afford to get into more trouble right now.

  ‘Do I have to go back to class?’

  Ms T looked at Gilvarry, who shrugged.

  ‘Well, class is almost over so you can probably go get your morning tea. But I will definitely see you after the bell rings, yes?’

  Ms T was kinder now for sure, but Layla heard the gentle command in her statement: make sure you come to class, or there will be trouble!

  Layla nodded and collected the sketchbook to return to the cupboard.

  ‘Oh no, no. Take that with you!’ Gilvarry said. ‘You don’t know when inspiration will strike!’

  With that, Layla bounded out of the classroom, materials book and sketchbook under her arm, 2B pencil in her fist. Her feet took her to the lunch spot on the hill, where she’d first met the boys.

  Someone was already sitting on the hill! She froze, hoping that it wasn’t Peter, but the boy’s red curls identified the figure as Ethan.

  CHAPTER 16

  ETHAN?

  What was he doing sitting on the hill all by himself before the break had even started? He had his head resting on his knees, face forlorn. As Layla rushed up the hill, her noisy skirt announced her arrival and Ethan woke up from his reverie.

  ‘Whatchya doing?’ Layla asked chirpily, hiding her jitters. She crouched down next to Ethan and also drew her legs up to her chest, sitting in a similar position. Being so close to her crush still made her nervous, but she was doing her best to mask it. Also, they hadn’t really sorted things out from yesterday. Layla knew he’d read her messages last night, but he hadn’t replied, so she’d been anxious about this moment. Was he still mad at her outburst?

  Ethan turned his head to look at Layla, his ear now on his knee. ‘Hey, Queen Laylz,’ he said, his voice low and grey. ‘Where were you this morning? We missed you in class, there was no one for Ms T to yell at.’

  ‘Ha!’ Layla laughed, a
lso breathing an internal sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t going to ignore her. She could work with that. ‘Yeh, nah man. Ms T and I are good now, didn’t I tell ya?’

  Layla wondered why Ethan looked like he had just seen a ghost.

  ‘Why are you out here all by yourself?’

  Ethan turned his head away from Layla, breaking eye contact. He stared down between his knees at the ground, eyes wide open, not blinking, not making a single sound. Seconds ticked away. The sound of crickets grew louder.

  ‘Ethan? Layla asked, now worried. He was acting super weird, and she was getting the feeling now it might be about something else, something more than just their chat yesterday. He had been acting a bit strange yesterday before everyone turned up actually. Layla realised she was holding her breath. She blinked. Ethan didn’t. She started humming, to break the silence, maybe annoy him into a response. Still nothing.

  ‘Ethan!’

  Layla watched, shocked as tears began to well up in her friend’s eyes. It was clear he was trying to hold them back but was failing horribly. The pools grew and wobbled, so gently and precariously, at the edges of his pink eyelids. Then, the dams broke. Rivers of tears began streaming down Ethan’s face. Streams of emotion navigated freckles and pimples as they made their way down and dripped off his chin. Ethan buried his head into his arms now, stifling the noise of his sobs.

  ‘Ethan, oh my God, are you okay? Oh habibi …’

  Tentatively, Layla lifted her right hand from the grass in between them and placed it ever so gently on Ethan’s back. She felt his body react, then relax, and so took that as permission to pat him comfortingly, and slowly started to rub his back in circles.

  ‘Shhhhhh,’ she crooned softly to him, in the same way she would try to calm her girlfriends when they cried.

  Layla moved a little closer to Ethan, so their bodies were almost touching and placed her left hand on his leg.