“And how long have you been working at that little store?”
“Oh … um, on and off for a while,” he replied vaguely. “In between school and soccer — you know, just to make some extra money.”
Something in his voice gave me the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t ask anymore. Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable by asking about his job. Maybe his family was poor and he was embarrassed at having to work for extra money.
Worried that I’d overstepped my bounds on our very first date, I started talking about myself. I told him all about Canada: how cold the winters are, how you can drive for days without reaching a border, how there’s a whole season dedicated to maple syrup, how we have bears and moose and beavers and evergreen forests that go on forever and hundreds upon hundreds of freshwater lakes.
I told him about my high school and my old friends and how they used to call me Snow White. I told him about my old house and the neighbourhood where I grew up. I told him about Dad and how goofy he could be and how he’s a visiting professor here at Hebrew U. I basically gave him every detail of my life. I was flattered that he was so interested. Every time I stopped talking he’d ask me something else. I definitely never met any other boy like him before. He seemed so genuinely into me and everything I had to say.
“How does your family like it in Israel? What was your house like in Canada? Did you know Avril Lavigne? Did you have your own car there? Do you want to be a professor, too?”
Eager to please, I didn’t hold any detail back. I even told him about Mom, which surprised me, since I normally did anything to avoid mentioning her. But opening up to Marla must have really helped. And Nasir was so easy to talk to, it kind of just came out.
By the time I’d finished telling him everything he wanted to know, it was nine-thirty. Our night was coming to an end and there was still one little thing I was itching to find out.
“So, Nasir, let me ask you something now.” God, I loved hearing myself say his name!
“Sure — anything.”
I twirled a thin strand of hair around my finger and chose my words carefully.
“Um, well, why are you so scared to talk to me when you’re at work?”
He shrugged. “You know, the Arab community is pretty close. Somebody might tell my family if they saw us together.”
“And would that be really terrible?” I asked, although after Marla’s reaction I was almost sure I knew what his answer would be.
He confirmed it with a sombre nod.
“They would never approve. I’m expected to marry a Muslim girl.”
“Marry?” I giggled, trying to lighten up the conversation. “Who said anything about getting married? I’m only fifteen, you know!”
“Trust me, they wouldn’t care how old you are,” he replied, tossing his brown hair lightly from side to side. “Dating isn’t allowed, either … until you’re engaged, that is.”
“Oh …”
“And neither is kissing,” he added.
“It’s not?” I whispered, feeling my poor heart sink into my shoes. I wanted to kiss him so badly my lips were burning.
“No, it’s not.”
I was about to ask him how anybody would ever know when he suddenly stopped walking and reached for my hands. I prayed he wouldn’t notice my ugly fingernails. Note to self: stop biting them!
“But thankfully, I don’t believe in any of that stuff,” he said, pulling me gently towards him. Before I knew it, his mouth was touching mine. His lips were so soft — I could taste the faintest bit of toothpaste on them, but it was nice. I think he was nervous, ’cause I could feel his hands trembling in mine. And me? My head was spinning, my knees felt weak, and my heart felt like it was going to pound itself right out of my chest. Could he feel that, too? I think if he hadn’t been holding my hands I might have fallen over. I knew what we were doing was forbidden and yet that was, strangely enough, a good thing. Like the most dangerous thing I’d allowed myself to do in a long time.
When we finally came up for air, I looked into his deep brown eyes and felt myself disappearing inside them.
Just like the desert.
Chapter 17
Of course, I called Marla and told her all about it the minute I got home. Unfortunately, it was an awkward conversation. There were a lot of uncomfortable pauses on her end of the line when I described our date. And when she did finally speak, I could hear her voice straining to be nice.
“Okay … Uh-huh … That’s nice, Mack.”
For the first time since our move to Israel, I found myself missing my old Toronto friends. They would have been happy for me, I was sure of it!
The next day at school, Marla outed my relationship to her lunchtime buddies.
“Guess what, guys?” she announced in a tone that sounded like a big sister tattling on a younger one. “Mackenzie has a boyfriend!”
My face grew bright red as every eye at the table turned to look at me in shock.
“Wow! Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ronit accusingly.
“Yeah!” Yael chimed in, swatting me on the arm. “Who is it?”
Before I could answer, Noa jumped in with a guess. “I know! It’s Ari from your math class, right?”
“Um … no, it’s not Ari,” I mumbled.
“Shut up! Then who?” demanded Yael.
“Well, you don’t know him,” I stalled. “He doesn’t go to this school.”
“Ooh … Does that mean he’s a college guy?” guessed Ronit, bouncing up and down with glee. “Oh my gosh! One of your dad’s students?”
I looked over to Marla for help, but she just smiled smugly and shrugged. I was on my own.
“Um, his name is Nasir Hadad,” I said. “And no, he’s not in college. He goes to high school in East Jerusalem.”
The entire table suddenly turned quiet. Within seconds, their looks of excitement began simultaneously melting into frowns of disapproval.
“So, he’s Muslim?” asked Noa, whispering like it was some kind of curse word.
I couldn’t believe these people! How could they object to someone they didn’t even know?
“Yes, he is,” I replied, feeling very defensive, “and if any of you have a problem with it, tough!”
And then I did something the old me never would have done: I jumped to my feet and stormed out of the cafeteria. God, was I furious at Marla! I knew she was trying to sabotage my feelings for Nasir. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t care if she or her friends approved of him or not. All that mattered was how we felt about each other.
Despite all the negativity surrounding us, Nasir and I continued to meet on the sly. I was pretty daring, meeting him after school or sometimes in the evenings if I knew that Dad was working late. It was tricky, but totally worth it. He was like no other guy I’d ever met before.
I know what you’re thinking: he’s my first boyfriend, so how would I know, right? But he treated me with such respect and he always listened so attentively to everything I had to say. And he told me how beautiful I was every time we were together — even on the days when I felt plain and pale and awkward. He was almost too wonderful to be true — like my own Prince Charming out of my very own fairy tale. By the time winter arrived my fingernails had grown so long I had to invest in a nail file.
I was falling in love.
Chapter 18
The day was switching to evening. Nasir watched his shadow as he walked towards the park, noticing how its stretched-out form was beginning to fade from sight. Over breakfast that morning Baba had asked to meet him after work. He’d said that he wanted his company while he “exercised,” but Nasir knew better. He knew it was because his father wanted to talk in private.
He was waiting when Nasir arrived. There was a big smile on his face and crinkles of pleasure lining the corners of his eyes. Nasir’s stomach churned and, for a second, he felt like he was going to throw up. He knew without asking that his father had sold the bronze figurine.
B
aba took Nasir’s arm and together they walked in silence down a narrow, shaded path until they came to a clearing that offered an excellent view of the surrounding area. Only after making certain no one was within earshot did Baba decide it was safe enough to speak.
“Our dealer has come through for us,” he said, his voice bouncing with excitement. “He has sold the figurine to a wealthy American collector and has earned us a substantial profit. This morning I went to the bank and sent the money to your grandparents and aunt.”
He paused a moment to wait for his son’s reaction, but when it didn’t come he continued.
“What I’m trying to say is, thank you, Nasir. You’ve been a big help. If I can count on you one more time, we might even be able to get the family out of Askar. Maybe even bring them here. Or if the Israeli government won’t let them in, perhaps we can get them to America. Your cousin Ziyad could sponsor them.”
Yes … after he’s finished sponsoring me, Nasir thought. His stomach churned again as he stared down at the grass and tried to sort through his emotions. He felt sick inside whenever he let himself think about that night on the Judean Plain. Despite Baba’s attempts to justify it, going back to dig for more artefacts would transform him, at least in his own mind, from an accidental thief into a criminal repeat offender.
On the other hand, it felt good to be able to help his parents and relatives — especially since Nasir felt like he was betraying them daily by sneaking around with Mackenzie. He lifted his head and met his father’s eyes; there was more hope in them then he’d seen in years. Nasir sighed. He knew he was destined to become a huge disappointment to his father one day. How could he refuse him now?
“Okay. You can count on me,” he said softly.
Baba smiled again.
“Thank you, my son. The dealer says the antiquities market is very hot right now. He wanted to know how soon we could go back for more. Apparently there are some very lucrative sites up north in the Galilee. He says that many of his diggers have been quite successful in that area. Maybe next time we’ll try searching out there.”
His diggers? Exactly how many people are involved in this racket? Nasir wondered. He wanted to ask but held back, sensing that perhaps the less he knew the better.
Baba put his arm around Nasir’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Just think how much money we could earn next time,” he whispered. “One more of those little statues could save your grandparents. If we can bring them out of the camp, they could finally get the kind of medical attention they need. They’ve lived such a hard life, they deserve to end their days in comfort.”
Nasir nodded, suddenly remembering Mackenzie’s story of Tiberias, a city located in the region Baba had referred to. She’d talked about finding pottery shards and silver coins. He couldn’t even imagine how much money Baba’s dealer could get for those kinds of things.
He wasn’t proud of what happened next. In his eagerness to please his father and help his family, he did something terrible — so terrible that he would look back on that moment with regret for the rest of his life. He felt the words of betrayal form in his mouth and tried to swallow them down before they could do any damage. But despite his best efforts, they flew from his lips like guided missiles.
“I have a friend,” Nasir heard himself saying. “Her father is an archaeology professor from The Hebrew University. He recently led a dig in Tiberias, where they found pottery shards and a whole stash of silver coins. My friend says it’s known as the ‘city of treasures.’ Maybe we should try digging there.”
Baba’s eyes widened at the mention of the silver coins. He was clearly so hungry for another find that he didn’t even seem to care that Nasir’s “friend” was a girl — something that would ordinarily have prompted a frown of disapproval.
“Thank you, Nasir. Maybe you can speak to this girl again and try to find out some exact locations. If you can learn more, we might get compensated for the information. But be careful: nobody must suspect what we’re doing.”
Nasir nodded silently as the impact of what he’d just done began to sink in.
The sound of laughter interrupted his thoughts, providing a welcome distraction from his guilt. He turned his head and saw two boys entering the clearing, kicking a soccer ball. He and Baba stopped talking and watched as the boys approached, running after their ball in the purple light of dusk. They looked joyful and innocent; Nasir guessed that they were only a few years younger than him.
A sudden longing grew in his chest: a longing to leave Baba and go join them in their game. But he knew he couldn’t. His head was burdened with secrets and his feet were firmly planted in the adult world of deception and lies.
He wondered how he got to the point where his entire life had become about sneaking around.
After that day, he never played soccer again.
Chapter 19
December in Israel was bizarre. I mean, totally and utterly warped. At least it seemed that way to me.
To start with, it snowed. That’s right, snowed! Dad and I must have brought some cold Canadian karma with us across the Atlantic, because one morning early in the month I looked out my window and saw the ground covered with white. I swear, you could have knocked me over with a feather right then and there. If I had known snow in the Middle East was even a remote possibility, I would have brought my ski jacket with me.
The intersection below my window was exploding with honking horns that morning. Man, if you thought the Israeli drivers were crazy in normal weather, you should have seen them skidding around on the wet snow. It wasn’t pretty.
Marla showed up on my doorstep an hour later wearing mittens and brimming with excitement.
“Isn’t it great?” she gushed. “Doesn’t it remind you of home?”
“Um, I guess.”
But it didn’t really. Back home, the first snowfall had meant the beginning of the Christmas season. Here, it meant nothing.
Forget the bomb shelters and double-flush toilets; my single biggest culture shock from this move had to be the absence of Christmas. It had been Mom’s favourite time of year. In the years before the accident, she would spend the entire month of December getting ready for the holidays. Our home would always be decorated with greenery and tinsel and a huge tree and the outside of our house would be covered with strings of tiny, multicoloured lights. Sure, it was hokey, but I liked it. And of course, we weren’t the only ones. Malls across the city were adorned with ribbons and garland, carols were blasted 24/7 on the radio, and most of the streets were lit up with Christmas lights.
But there was none of that here in Israel. Heck, we didn’t even get a school break.
At least Dad managed to track down a place that sold Christmas trees. But it wasn’t the same. One warm Sunday, we dragged home a straggly looking spruce, propped it up in the living room, and decorated it as best as we could. Not exactly easy considering we’d left all our ornaments back in Toronto with Aunt Louise and Uncle Matt.
“We’ll make our own this year. C’mon … it’ll be fun!” Dad urged, showing me how to string popcorn and make garland out of coloured construction paper. “This is how they did it in the ‘olden days.’”
I seriously doubted that the pioneers used tinfoil to make their Christmas stars, but I rolled my eyes and went along with it. Really, what choice did I have? We were almost halfway through the year and things were still tense between me and Dad. His pathetic tree just made me miss home. And Mom, too. I knew if she’d been here, she would have found a way to make Christmas special somehow. Dad was trying his best, but his best just wasn’t good enough for me. Let’s face it: without Mom, we were lost.
And the thirty-first wasn’t much different. There was no Dick Clark, no corny singing, and no confetti at midnight. You see, New Year’s didn’t exist here — at least, not the New Year’s I’d always known. The Jewish New Year was celebrated back in September with apples and honey and ram’s horns. Called Rosh Hashanah, it’s so different from the New Year’s
I was used to that I didn’t even realize what it was until it was over.
Of course there was Hanukkah, which I guess was nice in its own way. I mean, what’s not to like about chocolate coins and candles and spinning tops? Marla invited me to her family’s Hanukkah party. It was fun, but the smell of frying oil from the pancakes and donuts made me nauseous.
And the snow? It melted after only a couple of hours — just enough time to remind me, yet again, of everything I had lost.
Chapter 20
Nasir was shocked when Mackenzie brought a camera to the store. She walked through the door, pulled it out of her jacket pocket, and pointed it at him.
“Say cheese!”
Snap.
“What are you doing?” he asked, holding his hands out to stop her. “Please put that away.” His eyes flicked nervously up and down the aisles, checking for customers.
“Uh-uh,” she replied, skipping towards him and pulling his hands away playfully.
“Smile!” Snap … snap…
But Nasir was too worried to smile.
“Mackenzie, please!” he repeated.
She sighed softly and lowered the camera down to the countertop.
“Relax. I won’t put these pictures up in my room or my locker or anything. I just want one of you for my wallet. Something for me to look at in private … Okay?”
He hesitated and glanced towards the door. “But what if someone sees us?”
She looked around the store and shrugged. “What are you talking about? There’s no one here. And if anyone does come in, I’ll pretend I don’t know you — as usual.”
“I don’t know, I don’t think it’s a good idea …”
But she wouldn’t listen.
“Come on … Don’t be so paranoid!” she said, plucking a small bag of potato chips off a nearby shelf and tossing it at his head. “Lighten up!”
“Hey!” he said, ducking away from the flying bag.
Mackenzie, Lost and Found Page 8