The F Team

by Rawah Arja

  ‘Tell me the Ferrari is staying?’ I said. ‘C’mon, she can’t give that up.’

  He gazed up at the sky. ‘Dad would be losing it if he knew.’ He then looked over at me. ‘Your family are really cool for doing this. Thanks, bro.’

  I wanted to talk to him more about his parents and his dad’s cars, but I figured this wasn’t the right time or place. I decided to lighten the mood instead.

  ‘Bro? One step at a time.’

  He laughed quietly. ‘Who would’ve thought, ay?’

  Chapter 25

  Amira held on for dear life. She only had a few bars left. It was the furthest she’d gone and it was all thanks to the gloves Jamila had given her.

  ‘You’re almost there,’ Jamila called out from the other side, and clapped. Jehad also cheered when Amira finally swung onto the second-last bar.

  ‘Bob, if you do this, I’m taking you to Bunnings to buy whatever you want,’ I said, standing close just in case she fell.

  She blew some strands of hair from her face. ‘And makeup.’ I heard Jamila laugh. ‘Whatever you like. Just one more bar.

  C’mon Bob. Just this one and you’re done.’

  ‘Swing your body,’ Jamila called out.

  Amira swung forwards and backwards until she got enough momentum to reach for the last bar and was finally finished. She landed on the ground in a heap.

  Jamila and Jehad cheered when I helped her get to her feet. I wiped her sweaty face with the ends of my shirt. ‘You killed it, Bob. And you did it all by yourself.’

  Amira’s smile reached ear to ear when she ran over and hugged Jamila. ‘Thank you for the gloves.’

  ‘You’re welcome, beautiful,’ Jamila hugged her back. ‘It wasn’t the gloves though. It was all you. The gloves just helped you a bit.’

  Amira then rushed back and gave me a few kisses before going off with Jehad to tell the other kids that she had finally made it.

  ‘That was awesome,’ Jamila said. ‘I thought she was going to fall, but I think having you there helped her.’

  ‘Me? You’re the one who bought her the gloves and cheered for her louder than anyone here.’

  ‘It’s nice that you take care of your sister like that,’ she said, holding onto her backpack.

  I watched Amira stop every child walking up the stairs to tell them what had just happened. ‘I’d do anything for her. She’s my Bob.’

  Jamila smiled. I smiled.

  Silence settled between us.

  ‘So, I wanted to ask you a question,’ I began, not looking directly at her. ‘I know you said that you liked the Bankstown Poetry Slam and I thought, maybe, if you had time tonight, that you’d wanna go?’

  In the time it took her to reply, I think I aged a hundred years.

  ‘You bought tickets to BPS?’ she said at last, stepping back.

  ‘Yeah, I thought it would help with our own slam presentation,’ I lied. ‘Isn’t it the place you said that you liked? Oh wait, was it another place? Man, I really thought you said it was Bankstown.’ I was babbling, and I couldn’t stop.

  She wiggled her nose, trying not to laugh. ‘Sure. For our school thing.’

  I was going to pass out if she kept me hanging any longer.

  ‘It is the place I talked about,’ she said. ‘And yes, I’d love to go.’

  I wanted to jump out of my body and do cartwheels but I needed to remain cool and calm. ‘Seriously? You’d wanna go with me?’ Okay, so maybe I missed cool by just a little.

  She rolled her eyes then looped her arm through mine and dragged me to the school gate. ‘Well, it’s for our school thing, right?’

  I couldn’t seem to let go of her arm and ended up walking her to school, even though it meant I was late to first period. We talked all the way about stuff like our favourite music and movies, and Jehad’s dyslexia.

  ‘I help him read every night,’ she said. ‘It’s so important that he doesn’t feel like he’s different or not as smart as the others.’

  ‘Let Bob help him out,’ I suggested. ‘Trust me, she’s good. She helps my Uncle Charlie read stuff he doesn’t understand.’

  ‘Honey uncle, right?’

  ‘Yeah. How’d you know?’

  ‘Jehad said something about Bob and a company and that he wanted to sell honey with them.’

  I remembered the honey jars still sitting on the kitchen counter. I still hadn’t sold any. I needed to hide them and make it look like I was at least trying.

  I waited by the gates until Jamila waved goodbye, then headed over to school. Luckily, first period was English with Miss K, and she let my lateness slide.

  While one thing had worked out alright today, the tension between Huss and me still lingered in the back of my mind. He ignored me when we passed each other in the hallway, and sat with another group of boys at recess, no matter how much Ibby and PJ tried to get him to change his mind.

  Mr Archie told me to give him some space, but to find a time to at least talk about the situation. It didn’t help that Aaron and I were together more than ever, working to find some rhythm in our team. Aaron and Huss still avoided each other at all costs during training, with Mr Ahmed watching them closely. I felt torn between Aaron, who was actually turning out to be alright to hang out with, and Huss, who was my best mate and who felt I had betrayed him. I resolved to visit his place and say hi to Big Haji as soon as the opportunity arose. But between training and planning sessions with Aaron, the poetry slam and helping Aunty Salma get ready for her trip home, I didn’t know where to squeeze in a visit to Huss’s place.

  Our school was looking cleaner, with many classrooms fitted with new desks and newly painted walls. We wondered where Mr Archie was getting all the money from for these improvements. A few of the seniors checked our GoFundMe page, which had gone from $1025 to $2570, nowhere near enough to pay for any of the stuff. The donation names on the page were mostly shop owners in Punchbowl and a few of our cousins. We chipped in what we could, but most of the boys helped out their families financially.

  But perhaps the biggest surprise of all waited for Ibby. Mr Archie called for a few of us to meet in the renovated Home Ec room. Mr Ahmed walked Ibby in with a blindfold, before unveiling a new decked-out kitchen with two ovens and shiny cooking equipment.

  I had never seen Ibby lost for words until now. He took a few breaths. It didn’t take long for the waterworks to start. ‘No one’s ever cared like this for me before,’ he said hugging Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed. ‘Wallah, I luv ya, sir.’

  Mr Ahmed clapped him on the back. ‘So as long as you have teacher supervision, you can start your journey here to opening your own restaurant one day.’

  ‘What about the music room, sir?’ PJ asked.

  Mr Archie smiled. ‘All in good time, lad. Don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten.’

  The rest of the day was a blur, and all I could think about was the poetry slam with Jamila that night.

  Aunty Salma helped me choose a bouquet of tulips and roses at the florist. I caught the train and met Jamila outside Bankstown Arts Centre, where there was a long line of people waiting to go in. My face burned holding the flowers with everyone staring at me. Someone wolf-whistled.

  I handed Jamila the flowers and she blushed. ‘You’re doing good,’ she smiled. My pulse was jumping wildly in my neck. She introduced me to a few people, before stopping in front of a young girl in a hijab. ‘Meet the mastermind behind BPS, Sara Mansour.’

  ‘Salaam, welcome to the show.’ Sara shook my hand. ‘So, you going to have a go tonight at open mic?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said, feeling my palms sweat. ‘I hate speaking in front of people.’

  We sat a few rows from the front and watched poet after poet read their pieces, almost like it was a rap battle. People clicked every so often, which Jamila explained meant that the audience thought those lines were particularly powerful. If it hadn’t been for Jamila, I’d never have thought to come to one of these events, but the poems were actually good and t
he place was packed. I listened to a couple of senior boys from our school who read their poems. I had no idea they were into poetry at all, let alone slam poetry.

  And if I thought the night couldn’t be filled with more surprises, Mariam walked onto the stage and rapped a few bars. She was the only performer who didn’t look at a script, and had the whole audience cheering.

  ‘She’s good, right?’ Jamila asked, leaning in close to be heard over all the cheering.

  I nodded. ‘She really is.’

  ‘This is where we met, actually. She comes to a lot of the open mics here, but she doesn’t want to go pro.’

  There was a short break before the second half of the show. Mariam came over to sit with us, a look of interest on her face. ‘So, how long have you guys been hanging out?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jamila asked.

  Mariam waved her fingers between the two of us. ‘You know…’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t be a gossip girl now.’

  Mariam laughed and headed off as the second half got started. ‘Nice flowers,’ she called, and winked. Jamila blushed again as she was called to the stage to read her piece.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ she whispered.

  Onstage, she adjusted the mic stand and cleared her throat. ‘Okay, slamily. This piece is called “I’m no damsel in distress”.’ The audience cheered and clapped as she began.

  They call me a damsel in distress, if I leave behind a mess.

  Trying to suppress all that was me in a box you see,

  she left without even checking up on me.

  They call me a damsel in distress if I open up my chest and pour whatever’s left

  only to be called depressed if I confess that she broke every part of me.

  It was like she was the only one in the room. Her body swayed to the rhythm of the words, and by the time she was finished, the audience was up on their feet cheering for her.

  She took a bow, then came back to sit beside me. I didn’t even think twice, just held her hand. I could think of no other way to show her that I thought she was incredible.

  She squeezed my hand a little tighter as we spent the night afloat in a sea of words.

  Chapter 26

  Mr Archie looked like he hadn’t slept. He rubbed his tired face a couple of times before shuffling some papers on his desk. He handed me a letter:

  Dear Mr Archibald,

  RE: Proposed closure of Punchbowl Boys High School – NEW UPDATE With recent reports in the media and disturbing videos still being circulated via social media, we have determined that an independent body will complete the necessary requirements for further investigation of the school. A foreclosure will be taken into consideration if we are unable to establish major improvements in student behaviour and enrolment numbers. We understand that this is a difficult time for both staff and the community; however, the safety of students is of utmost importance. We hope that you appreciate the severity of the situation, and we will be in contact soon.

  Kind Regards,

  Shelly McField

  NSW Department of Education

  I was stunned. We were in Week 7 of Term 2, with the end of term fast approaching, and we were still receiving letters like this.

  ‘What do they want from us?’ I asked. ‘Do they want us to dress up in ties, brush our hair and salute them? We’re trying the best we can.’

  Mr Archie looked at his wall of photos with different sporting legends. ‘They apparently need to see you lads take some ownership of the changes without the guidance of teachers. Take some initiative.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, confused. ‘What can we do to help?’

  He slid his phone across the table to show a video of a fight that had been shared on social media overnight. Last week, a couple of boys had gotten into a scuffle on the playground and now it was all over the internet. It looked so much worse than it had actually been.

  ‘I was there, sir, and those boys were friends again within a few minutes.’ I ran through the witnesses to the fight in my head. ‘There were only some seniors, a few juniors and me and the boys.’

  ‘Regardless, the media aren’t particularly concerned with the truth of the matter. It’s all about optics.’

  ‘Optics?’

  ‘The look of a thing. This fight, however harmless,’ he waved his phone, ‘is bad optics. We need to find something with good optics to counter it. Something with good enough optics to counter the months of negative press we’re working against.’ He looked at the box holding our contracts. We had signed those contracts, and over the course of the term, the real troublemakers had been weeded out. But it was clear now that someone on the inside wanted our school closed. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to figure out who was willing to destroy all of our futures, and why.

  ‘I’ve spoken to head teachers and have asked them to investigate their grades,’ he said. ‘But what I really wanted to speak to you about is Huss.’

  ‘Huss?’

  ‘Have you spoken?’

  ‘He won’t answer any of my calls or messages.’

  He leaned forward. ‘You do know where he lives, right?’

  ‘Yeah, but you’ve seen me, sir. I’ve had no time.’

  ‘You’ve had time to spend with Jamila and Aaron.’

  I could feel my face heating up. ‘First, me hanging out with Aaron was your idea, for the sake of the comp. And second, Jamila… Jamila.’ I couldn’t find the words.

  He sighed. ‘Lad, I get it. I don’t want to encroach on your relationships. But your relationship with Huss is of longer standing than with either Aaron or Jamila. All I’m suggesting is maybe have a chat with him when you get back from the poetry workshop today. It’s the right thing to do as the BBL, it’ll help our game this Friday, but most of all, Tariq, it’s what you owe your best friend.’

  During the poetry workshop, I sat opposite Jamila with my notes open for the slam, but Mr Archie’s letter was stuck in my mind. I was starting to feel like there was no way forward, no escape for our school. No matter what we tried, they kept moving the goalposts, and it was clear that they only had one aim in mind. Maybe Huss was right. Maybe all this was too little, too late.

  ‘Hello?’ Jamila waved her hand in front of my face. ‘You okay?’

  I shook my head a few times, trying to get back to our presentation. ‘Yeah, I’m alright. Just school stuff.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  ‘Can you go back to whenever boys started being stupid and fighting a lot and convince them to read a book and write poetry instead?’

  She laughed. ‘I’m good, but I’m not that good.’ She frowned at me for a second, thinking. ‘Maybe I can help a little bit in a different way, though. Close your eyes.’

  ‘Huh? Why?’

  ‘We’re going to try a mini-therapy session.’

  ‘What, right here? In front of everyone?’

  ‘Can you stop being a baby, please, and close your eyes?’

  I wasn’t about to torch the progress I’d made with her since the Bankstown Poetry Slam, so I closed my eyes. I hoped she wasn’t going to make me talk about my feelings. I remembered how exhausting that had been during camp, and I was going to need all my energy if I was going to tackle Huss later.

  After a minute, she rolled up my sleeves and began to draw on my arms. ‘Just pretend no one’s here.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said, cracking open an eye.

  ‘Just trust me.’ I breathed out noisily. ‘Now, tell me what the problem is at this very moment. Not everything that’s been going on, just what’s bothering you right now.’

  I took a few breaths and slowly felt my muscles ease. ‘It’s our school. We got another letter threatening to shut us down. I think it’s because someone from the inside keeps releasing videos of fights around the school.’

  ‘Fights?’ she asked, her pen stopping for a second.

  I shrugged. ‘Just dumb guy stuff. Nothing serious, just playground stuff. Archie
’s trying to figure out who’s doing it, but he pretty much told me today that he was lost, which makes me nervous. If he can’t figure it out, then we have no hope.’

  I tried to open my eyes, but she tugged my arm. ‘I’ll tell you when you can open. Keep going.’

  ‘I don’t know how our school situation is going to work out if all anyone sees are videos of us fighting. I feel like our image is too broken to fix. I want everything to go back to normal, like how it was.’

  ‘How was it before?’

  I shrugged, and she clicked her tongue when my arm moved. ‘I dunno. We just did our thing. No one was on our case 24/7 about everything.’

  ‘Was that better than it is now?’

  ‘People left us alone.’

  ‘Was that the best thing to do for you guys? Leaving you alone?’

  I was quiet for a second, focusing on the feeling of her pen against my skin. I remembered the state the school was in even one term ago, the run-down classrooms, the stressed teachers. The way we had to watch out for one another. The fights.

  ‘Open’ she said.

  I blinked a few times to see my forearms covered in flowers. ‘Really? The boys are going to kill me when I get back to school.’

  ‘You can pull it off,’ she with a smile. ‘Listen, Tariq. I’m not saying things are easy for you guys right now. It sounds like there’s a lot of shit going on, and it’s stressful and upsetting, and you still have no idea about what’s going to happen to your future.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But do you really think going back to the way things were would be better? Going back to being ignored, written off as worthless, just playing out the same cycles over and over again?’

  I sighed. ‘No.’

  ‘Then maybe it’s worth throwing that idea away and focusing on what you can do to improve the situation?’ She rummaged through her bag. ‘I want to show you something.’

  She played me a video of her reading her piece at Bankstown Poetry Slam. I couldn’t believe it had already gotten almost eight thousand likes on the BPS Facebook page.