by Zanib Mian
So Mrs. Rogers and her kitchen were all ours for the day, which was super excellent because when we baked the cookies, she let us use her
“Mrs. Rogers is old, so if this recipe is her mom’s, that means it’s from the olden days,” Daniel whispered as we sampled the first batch.
We stopped and stared at each other. They were out of this world. We were going to make some big bucks!
After we baked tons of cookies, we all helped Daniel make more origami birds, and then back at our own houses we chose some toys and books we had grown out of to sell. I didn’t have many, because I’d given stuff away before we moved, so I took a deep breath and picked a couple of toys that I still played with. It was hard work being sometimes.
I wished I had more things to sell. I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen if the mosque did shut down. Mom and Dad might not find their secret smiles in any other mosque, and we’d all have to travel much farther. Other people from the community wouldn’t have a nearby place to pray and meet their friends, either. And Mrs. Rogers wouldn’t be able to come to the next Eid celebration at the mosque like she wants to.
It made me feel all worried again, thinking about that, so I sent Allah a quick little prayer.
CHAPTER 13
At breakfast on Monday morning, Maryam said, “Omar, shall I show you where your room is? It looks like you’ve forgotten, because
I gulped down the spoonful of porridge I had in my mouth and stared at her, wondering what the big problem was.
“What are you staring at? Seriously. You came in the other day when I was with my friends, and you even came in last night when I was sleeping, fumbling about like an
“What? Why would I—”
“I bet you were looking for things to sell at your stupid talent show.”
“Maryam!” Mom stepped in. “That’s quite enough rudeness from you. How dare you accuse Omar of swiping things from your room.”
“What? I don’t believe it. You always take his side.
Maryam gave up on her breakfast and folded her arms.
Dad said, “It’s quite all right for Omar to come into your room, you know. We don’t treat family like strangers. And, after all, he’s your dearest, darlingest, only brother—you never know when you might need to depend on each other.”
I giggled. And even Maryam giggled and quickly pointed out Dad’s mistake. “What about Esa?”
“Oh yeah, Dad winked.
Esa turned over his bowl of Coco Pops in protest. That almost made us late. Almost.
There’s nothing Mom and Dad hate more than lateness. So even a
is factored into our “getting-ready time” in the mornings. Super nerdy, I know.
I knew the rest of the day was going to pass sooooo slowly, because I absolutely couldn’t wait for talent contest day. By the time I got into bed that evening, I felt like I’d lived through a million hours, not just fourteen.
* * *
• • •
On Tuesday morning, as I was hopping into the Peanut, my heart was racing. Talent contest day—
Mrs. Rogers was in her driveway, putting her trash out. “Omar, is your spa open today? I could do with a foot rub.”
“Not today, Mrs. Rogers, but you can come to the talent contest,” I shouted through the car window.
And then I thought about the fact that I hadn’t ever seen her feet . . . What if they were covered in and she had really long toenails because she’s too old to bend over and cut them?
I was all day. Was it going to go well? Was it going to be a big hit? What if nobody turned up to watch? What if we didn’t sell any cookies?
Charlie checked and double-checked and triple-checked that we had everything ready and in place for the evening. Charlie and Daniel practiced their talents, and basically so did the whole rest of the playground.
The Green Eggs and Ham kid had added cartwheels to his act, and I could have sworn Sarah was humming through all of math and social studies.
When I went into the bathroom, I practiced smiling in the mirror, but it made me feel silly, so I stopped. I wasn’t entering the contest anyway, so I didn’t really need to worry about whether a smile-hypnosis act would work. I focused on how busy I’d be with the judging, to help calm my nerves.
In the evening, Mom took me back to school early to meet my friends and set everything up. The rest of the family, including Mrs. Rogers, was going to turn up with all the other guests.
I brought my toys to donate and a big box of samosas that Mom had made and said we could sell at 50 cents each. They smelled so and were so that they made my tummy grumble and get confused about whether it was nervous or hungry. I shoved one into my mouth as we walked toward the auditorium.
When we got through the door, I spotted Mrs. Hutchinson right away. She was talking to someone really tall who I’d never seen before. I walked over, and that’s the first time I met him . . .
“Ah, hello, Omar,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. She turned to the man she was talking to and said, “This is the young boy I was telling you about.”
The man gave a little flourishy bow and said to me, “Lancelot Macintosh at your service! I’m the uncle. Your teacher’s uncle, that is. And luckily, a school board member, too, so I have the honor of helping to judge the contest with you this evening.” And he smiled a real smile, the kind that makes your eyes smile, too. I wondered if he had an actual hypnosis smile, because I liked him right away! I liked his —it was the kind you only see on French waiters in cartoons, all curled up at the sides. Nobody real has that kind of mustache. But Lancelot Macintosh did. He smelled of
and he was holding a fancy walking stick that he didn’t seem to need at all. He was wearing a tweed jacket and pants that were too short for him, with bright-red socks peeking out from underneath. I wondered if it was because he was so tall he couldn’t find any to fit. And then he said,
for no apparent reason.
A third-grade teacher walked past in a hurry, sending her light-as-a-feather silk scarf gliding down to the floor, but Lancelot Macintosh spun around and caught it on his walking stick before it hit the ground. He wasn’t even looking in her direction when it fell! SO cool! He plucked it off the stick and gave it to me.
He smiled. “Why don’t you return that to its owner?”
I did, and the teacher was so happy, she put $5 in my donation box.
I went right back to Lancelot Macintosh, though, because he was so interesting. Daniel and Charlie had arrived, and Lancelot Macintosh was telling them about a man who had been the Formula One world champion THREE times even though he was involved in a big accident. He’d just started answering the we had about it when Mrs. Hutchinson reminded us we had a big job to do. We all scurried off to finish setting up the chairs and putting up a banner on the stage—in just half an hour, the show would be starting!
CHAPTER 14
The show went off with a I mean, really it did, because one kid from sixth grade thought it would be cool to do a science experiment onstage, and he must have put too much of something in, because it made a big scary noise and there was yucky stuff everywhere.
I sneaked a quick look at Mom and Dad, who had their proud and disappointed faces on at the same time. They were probably so excited about someone else loving science enough to do it as their talent and disappointed that he’d messed it up.
We saw handstands, ballet, singing, more singing, poetry, tae kwon do, acting, more singing, break dancing, juggling and,
more singing!
Lancelot Macintosh clapped really loud for each kid and said, as if their talent was the best thing he had ever seen. Except for when the science went wrong, which is when he said,
Sometimes his reactions were more fun to watch than the performers themselves. I couldn’t stop glancing at him. Every so often, he would twiddle his mustache, and twice he looked o
ver at me and winked.
Then it was intermission, which is when people could walk around and buy the stuff we were selling. Everyone was talking about the cookies. They were the first to sell out, and the samosas were next. Daniel’s origami birds weren’t doing so badly, either. Lancelot Macintosh bought five. And he never leaned on his walking stick. Not once. I wondered why he even had it. It was like a prop. Maybe for tap dancing? I thought he was probably full of mysterious surprises.
By the way, you might be wondering why I keep calling by his full name. That’s because he is one of those people whose name has to be said in full. You can’t just call him Lancelot or Mr. Macintosh. It doesn’t sound right at all.
The performances after intermission were more exciting. The Green Eggs and Ham kid came on. Somebody had cleverly attached a microphone to his sweater, so we could still hear him when he was upside down. I heard Mrs. Hutchinson whispering happily along with some of the words.
Daniel and Charlie had decided to do an act together in the end, because Charlie had felt a bit too shy to do one on his own. Daniel sang a song by an old band called the Beatles while Charlie did an awesome
that made the most of his weird double-jointed elbows. They looked like they were having the most fun ever, even more than the time they had a competition to see who could fit the most Whoppers into their mouth!
Then a girl from fourth grade came on wearing a Batman costume and did the best Batman impression I’ve ever seen a kid do, because kids have
voices and Batman does not. But that wasn’t all! She had on a Spider-Man costume underneath, and she hung from the curtain as if she had sticky spider fingers. Then she had an Iron Man costume under that! I couldn’t believe all the voices she could do.
Lancelot Macintosh loved this. He stood up and said,
That was the final performance, so we had a mini break while the judges wrote down their choices. I chose the last girl as the winner, and the Green Eggs and Ham kid as the runner-up.
Mrs. Hutchinson gathered together our slips of paper, and her curls seemed to get
as she read them all. “We picked exactly the same winner and runner-up—it’s unanimous!”
Then she went onto the stage to announce the results, but first she said, “We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for a young man who hasn’t performed but who has a great talent of his own. Omar has shown love, compassion and drive. He cares greatly about how it would affect others if our local mosque were to close down—and he did something about it! That, to me, is just as much of a talent as doing something onstage, Omar. We are proud of you, and of Charlie and Daniel.
For a minute, I thought I felt a lump in my throat. Nah, it must just have been the samosa I had shoved in earlier . . .
CHAPTER 15
After the show, when everybody had left, Mrs. Hutchinson counted up the cash. Then Mr. Martin, the custodian, started cleaning up all the mess. There were a LOT of napkins and cookie crumbs on the floor. Dad said we should all give Mr. Martin a hand by putting the chairs away, so we did.
Then Mrs. Hutchinson and Mr. McLeary came over to Mom and me, saying it was important to give me the cash right away. Lancelot Macintosh referred to it as “the day’s takings.”
My shoulders
“Oh . . .” I said. “That sounds like a long way off from $30,000.”
We’d worked so hard, for so long. Maybe making money wasn’t as easy as I’d always thought it was.
“A marvelous amount, young boy!” said Lancelot Macintosh.
“You’ve done so well, Omar,” Dad chipped in. “You don’t realize it, but that’s a whole lot of money, and it’s going to go a long way toward helping the mosque.”
“But it won’t save it,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” said Mom. “Lots of other people are raising money, too. I’m sure it will all add up to the amount they need.”
I looked at Maryam, remembering that she and her friends were trying, too.
Mrs. Hutchinson’s curls looked sad for me. I didn’t want them to be sad, so I gave my best smile and said, “It’s great! Thank you for your help, Mrs. Hutchinson and Mr. McLeary. I’m going to keep thinking and come up with more ideas!”
I shoved the envelope of cash into Mom’s bag, and everyone got back to putting the chairs away. When I glanced up, Lancelot Macintosh was staring into space and twiddling his mustache as if he was thinking about something very deeply. Funny. I wondered what was on his mind.
Mom and Dad could not stop talking about how proud they were of me on the way home.
Mrs. Rogers said I was the
Maryam said nothing, but she did grunt every time someone else said something nice. I thought it would be kind to give Maryam some of the spotlight. After all, she had been working hard to sell her art for the mosque, too. Also, I was curious to know if she was making enough to save the mosque. So I said, “How’s your art stuff going, Maryam?”
Maryam looked a bit like Esa does when he’s been caught drawing with Mom’s lipstick. “G-great. Really great, actually! I sold three pieces for $500 each.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said.
But Dad said, “Did you, now?” In his I’m-your-dad-and-I-know-when-you’re-lying voice.
said Maryam.
And then when Mom gave her an it’s-OK-dear look, as we pulled into our drive, she practically
She flung the car door open and jumped out, saying, “Don’t believe me, then—you never do!”
We all gave each other the look we do when Maryam acts like a complete teenager. Dad followed her to her room to talk to her, and the rest of us fell into our beds, exhausted.
Before I fell asleep, I thought about the cash in Mom’s purse. I imagined it
to get to $30,000. Yup, Mom and Dad even love making us learn the yucky science stuff! Bacteria can go from being just one of them to hundreds of them in minutes. Imagine if money could do that, too . . . But I bet if it did, Maryam would try to steal it because she’d be so jealous.
CHAPTER 16
When I woke up the next morning to get ready for school, I thought I’d take a quick peek at the cash. Maybe Allah had performed a miracle and it actually had multiplied!
I went to get Mom’s bag. But when I opened it, the envelope wasn’t there.
I yelled.
“Did you put the money somewhere else?”
“No,” said Mom. “What is going on? Isn’t it in there?”
“No. It’s not.
I was super panicked.
Dad came back into the house with his motorcycle helmet on. He looked like an
“What’s happening?”
“The money is gone!” I said.
“Such melodrama,” said Maryam, who was eating her breakfast already.
“I want pancakes,” said Esa.
Dad took off his helmet, as if he needed to scratch his head to think. “Right. Maybe it dropped out at school? Or you didn’t put it in the bag?”
“I did. I did.” I scratched my head, too.
“Are you 100% certain?”
“Oh Allah,” said Mom.
Dad turned to her and said, “I’ll go with Omar to the school and find out what’s going on.” Then to me, he said, “Go and get your helmet.” Now I was thrilled and worried at the same time. I hardly EVER get to ride on Dad’s bike with him. It felt like I was in a movie, and Dad and I were the
whizzing around to save the day. Hopefully . . .
We raced into school, and Dad explained the whole situation to the school secretary. I tried to stand patiently while he did that, but I was feeling very impatient. Finally, the secretary got everyone together. Mrs. Hutchinson, Mr. McLeary, Dad and I all searched the auditorium super thoroughly. I was kind of sure the envelope would be found behind the curtains or inside one of the stacks of chairs, but when it w
asn’t, I started having trouble breathing.
“Let’s check the hallways that lead to the parking lot,” said Mr. McLeary.
So there was still hope.
Nothing was there, though. I felt really panicky. Where was it? How could it have just
There was still the parking lot. But because that was the last place to check, I was absolutely frantic and was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on searching.
It wasn’t there, either.
At that point, Mrs. Hutchinson confirmed that she had seen me putting it in Mom’s bag.
The conclusion?
The money had been
Everyone was really worried. Mrs. Hutchinson’s hair was doing things I’d never seen it do before.
I was trying to be brave. I held on to my hero-in-the-movies helmet. The hero wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t, either. I wouldn’t. But then Dad took me into a hug, with all his leather motorcycle gear and his strong arms and his dad smell, and I cried.
CHAPTER 17
Charlie and Daniel were super upset when I told them about the money.
Daniel kicked a tree stump and then fell on the ground, yelling out in pain.
“The tree didn’t take the money!” I said.
“But someone did,” said Charlie. “We can’t let them get away with it.”