The F Team

by Rawah Arja

  We threw some bread in the water and more ducks swam to our feet. I hadn’t felt this calm in ages. For the first time, I felt like my head was actually staying above water.

  Yesterday in training Huss had shown up like I’d never seen him before. He was pumped and ran harder than anyone else. Hazem taught him a few pointers, and kick after kick, he shot them over the black dot.

  ‘For Big Haji,’ he said every time he ran up for the ball.

  ‘He’s killing it, bro.’ Aaron was loud in his praise. ‘If he does this in our games, then we definitely have a chance to make it to the semi-finals.’

  Truth was, I hadn’t been sure if he was even going to show up to training, but he had been the first one there. Big Haji was still recovering in the hospital, while Mum had cooked malfoof – cabbage rolls – Huss’s favourite, and made sure he and his mum had something to eat.

  ‘I know I was acting like a sook,’ Huss said to me before we got started. ‘But I had a lot of things going on and I took it out on the comp.’

  ‘Let’s just forget it and focus on winning these games,’ I said.

  Jamila brought out her notebook from her bag, snapping me back into the present. ‘While we’re waiting, let’s think of a few ideas so we can get straight into it.’

  ‘What do you do to start a piece?’ I asked. ‘Like the one you read for BPS was really good, but it was –’

  ‘Personal?’

  ‘Like, were you comfortable sharing that stuff about your mum?’

  ‘It’s my truth,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in sharing my art if I’m not going to be honest.’

  I only ever knew about her mum through her writing. ‘Do you still keep in touch with her?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I love her and she’ll always be my mum.’

  She leaned on my shoulder. ‘People are complicated. You can still love and be broken at the same time.’ She rubbed my arm absently. ‘You smell nice.’

  We sat and talked a little more until I heard some wolf-whistling from the other side of the park.

  ‘Get a room!’ PJ yelled.

  ‘This is Jamila,’ I said with a laugh when they got near enough.

  Ibby hugged her. ‘I’m a hugger,’ he said. ‘And he likes you a lot, ay. Don’t hurt my Tariq.’

  I could feel my face superheat. ‘Why don’t you calm down, Ibby, yeah?’

  ‘What? You do like her,’ he protested, then turned to her. ‘He says you make him nervous in a good way.’

  I stared at him until he closed his mouth. I was happy to see Huss, and he had even brought his own notebook.

  ‘He’s back!’ PJ said putting his arms around him. ‘The Wolf Pack is back!’

  ‘Do you boys want to do it as a group? Or do you want to do four separate pieces?’ Jamila asked.

  ‘Together,’ Huss said. ‘I don’t want to be on stage on my own.’

  She stood in front of us under the pergola in the park. ‘We know your school is in trouble, but slams are more about making people connect on a deeper level. You need to let people in and show them what’s beneath the surface.’

  Jamila gave us time to write some ideas. After a few minutes, PJ scrunched his page in frustration. ‘I can’t rhyme!’

  Jamila picked up the piece of paper and sat next to him. ‘Slams don’t need to rhyme. Think about it more as a rap.’

  ‘Like Tupac,’ he said.

  ‘Exactly, like Tupac.’

  ‘Why do you care?’ Huss asked curiously. ‘You could be at home now instead of being here. Why are you helping us out?’

  She looked at me and smiled. ‘I want to be here.’

  Ibby winked at me. ‘I like her,’ he whispered.

  Huss sat next to Jamila and me. ‘I had time in the hospital with Big Haji so I came up with ideas for how to get people noticing us in a good way.’ He turned a few pages in his book. ‘We can do that signing thing.’

  ‘A petition?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  I watched him read idea after idea about posters in the streets, asking shop owners to leave the petition in their shops, and inviting as many people as we knew to the slam.

  ‘Feda helped me. She told me what you said, you know?’

  ‘What did Tariq say?’ Jamila asked.

  If looks could kill, then Huss would be six feet under. ‘It was nothing.’

  We spent the afternoon brainstorming our ideas. Jamila sat next to me and rubbed my arm, excited. ‘They’re doing really well,’ she said softly. ‘This is going to be so good.’

  Aunty Salma caught me stuffing a letter into her suitcase. She wiped away a few tears and hugged me. ‘I just finished my makeup so don’t ruin it for me.’

  ‘Don’t read it until you get on the plane.’

  Mum and Dad served date and pistachio biscuits and kids ran up and down our driveway, dodging the teas and coffees on the tables. My brothers sat with my older cousins inside the garage and watched a UFC fight, which only made the Arab women’s orchestra scream at them for not sitting with the guests outside. Uncle Charlie and Amira tried to sell some honey to the guests, and Feda sat beside a few of my cousins with her blonde hair straightened.

  Why was she so dressed up?

  You’d think there was some sort of major occasion with the amount of people walking in and out of the house but it was how we farewelled people. Mr and Mrs Wallace peeked over the fence and passed over a few dessert pies and sandwich platters they had made to serve to guests.

  Aunty Salma was back in her over-the-top makeup and glittery clothes. We sat and talked a little more until Feda came and asked her for perfume. My brothers then called me from the garage to come over as quick as possible. ‘Don’t make it obvious,’ Abdul said, ‘but see that man sitting across from Dad, with the blue shirt? He’s here to see Feda.’

  ‘What? Like for marriage?’

  They nodded.

  I watched Feda walk back to her seat. She didn’t look right.

  ‘But she’s still doing her residency?’ I said. ‘She always said she wanted to finish first.’

  ‘I guess she changed her mind,’ Saff said with a shrug. ‘Don’t worry, I already called the cousins to ask about him.’

  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I watched the man sit next to Feda. I had left it too long and I feared there was never going to be a right time to tell my sister that I was sorry.

  Every moment was the right time. Even now, as I walked over and stood in front of them, not caring about who was watching.

  ‘Feda. You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to get married to please everyone else.’

  ‘Tariq?’ she cried.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said to you before.’ I turned to the man. ‘My sister is smart and pretty and the best person I know. She’s taken care of us her whole life and spends all her time now taking care of other people. You’re lucky to even think about being with her.’

  ‘Tariq?’ she cried again, standing up now. ‘He owns the practice in Bankstown and was talking to me about a job!’

  Wait, what?

  I turned back to my brothers, who were laughing like hyenas.

  Everyone watching joined in as well. I didn’t care that I had embarrassed myself but I didn’t want to embarrass Feda. I turned to explain, but she stopped me with a smile.

  ‘Breathe, Tariq. We’re good.’

  ‘We are?’

  She gave me a hug. ‘We are.’

  Chapter 31

  We won against Team E, 24–6. It had been our best performance so far, with not a single argument and Huss blitzing through their line like he was the only one on the field. Everywhere I looked he was there, either making a break or setting up a try from the back line.

  ‘Is he on drugs?’ Ibby asked at half-time.

  ‘It’s probably because his grandma is getting better,’ Riley said.

  ‘By the way, I’ve got some good and bad news about the number plate in the vide
o. Good news is that the number plate belongs to Scott – you know that tall blond one on the team? Bad news is that we can’t prove that Hunter was in the car.’

  The boys joined the conversation and I quickly briefed them. ‘We do nothing until after we’ve got the all-clear from the men in suits.’

  ‘No one will know,’ Huss said. ‘We can keep it on the down-low.’

  Aaron agreed. ‘Hunter needs to pay for what he’s done.’

  I shook my head in disbelief that Huss and Aaron were now teamed up against me. ‘Keep what on the down-low? Huss, we have no evidence and we’re just going to burn ourselves. Let’s be smart about this. Trust me, Hunter will get what’s coming to him.’

  Everyone agreed to strike when the time was right.

  ‘No dumb stuff now, when we’re so close,’ I reminded them as we ran onto the field for the second half.

  Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed were umpiring other games since two referees hadn’t shown up. ‘We have faith that you can be left alone for a game without getting yourselves into trouble,’ Mr Ahmed said, giving us The Look.

  Of course, while they were away, we had an altercation with Hunter.

  ‘I can’t wait to see your faces when your school closes,’ he said to us after our game. ‘It’s about time we did something about the cockroaches in your area.’

  PJ’s hands clenched and Huss’s eyes narrowed. I stared at them to stand down. The rest of the boys were lying on the grass, trying to catch a break before we headed back to school.

  ‘Just piss off, Hunter,’ Aaron said.

  ‘Or what you’re gonna go cry to Daddy? Oh wait. You can’t, can you?’

  They laughed and laughed like they’d made a great joke.

  When Aaron swung his arm towards Hunter’s face, I held it back and stood between them both until PJ grabbed hold of Aaron. He tried to break free, but was no match for PJ’s strength. Huss stood on the lookout while I made sure Hunter knew that his words were going to come back to bite him.

  ‘And even then, when you beg us to stop and grovel at our feet, we won’t. Until you feel what you made us feel, especially Riley and Aaron, and that’s when, maybe, just maybe, we’ll let you breathe again.’

  His face changed and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Something about my cold tone made him take a few steps back, then leave.

  ‘Why’d you do that for?’ Aaron said, freeing himself from PJ. ‘He joked about my dad and you –’

  ‘And I what?’ I interrupted. ‘Archie and Ahmed have been telling us to control our anger for weeks now, but it’s like they’re talking to brick walls.’

  ‘If he said that about your dad, you would’ve –’

  ‘He’s called us cockroaches. He’s called us dirty terrorists,’ I said, watching his chest heave. ‘He’s talked shit about everyone in the team, not just you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset, but if you punched him, you’d lose being captain and your spot on the team. Who would that have hurt? Hunter?’

  He shook his head and ground his teeth. ‘I want to get him so bad.’

  I pointed at Riley. ‘He’s gone through much more than you for years and he can control himself. Be like him. You can relax at my place,’ I said to the team. ‘Dad invited all of you back home for a late lunch.’

  Aaron took a few deep breaths. ‘Is your mum making the special chicken?’

  I laughed. ‘I told her the Yahooda doesn’t eat home-cooked food even though he lives in a bloody castle.’

  He tried to tackle me to the ground, but he forgot that he was messing with a member of the Wolf Pack. They all jumped on and rumbled him. Lee tried to join in, but only ended up getting squashed between Ibby and PJ.

  Mr Archie called Mr Bennett and told him that the Cronulla boys were spending the rest of the day with us. We took them on a tour of our school, which lasted about forty-five seconds. Our library was still under renovation and most of the other classrooms were being fitted with new furniture or air conditioners. We knew they wouldn’t be finished any time soon, but it was important to show the men in suits that change was happening and that we were taking things seriously.

  Some of the seniors along with Mr Ahmed challenged us to an afternoon game of touch before the bell rang. Mr Archie made an announcement over the PA that any student who wished to watch the game at last period was welcome to do so. Naturally, it was like a herd of elephants trampling their way out of class and onto the field. Any excuse to leave the classroom. We had some of the men in suits in the crowd, still with their notebooks.

  Mr Ahmed and his hand-picked team – mostly seniors – were no match for Mr Archie and us. The cheers were deafening when the crowd realised that we could actually play a decent game with the Cronulla boys. They begged Mr Archie to let them come and watch the last game of term, the must-win game to make it to the semi-finals.

  Back at my place, Mum made an extra plate of food for Aaron to take home and share with his mum. ‘Make sure you give her big kiss.’

  I had told her briefly about how they fought a lot. ‘Be kind, Tariq,’ she advised me. ‘Be thankful that we have each other.’

  ‘You told her about Mum?’ Aaron asked me, shaking his head.

  ‘No, no, no,’ Dad said, still in his work clothes. ‘Son, you know heaven is under her ground?’

  ‘Feet, Dad,’ Feda corrected.

  ‘Oh yes, I mean feet,’ Dad said, going over to kiss Mum on the forehead. ‘The whole house will be nothing without my love.’

  I couldn’t get the boys to leave even after Uncle Charlie took them for a ride around Punchbowl in his ice-cream truck.

  ‘Say salaam to your family,’ the shop owners said to Huss, Ibby and me over and over again.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Matt asked.

  I laughed, remembering the time he had accidentally converted to Islam. ‘It means “peace”. It’s how we greet each other.’

  ‘You make sure you get that trophy home.’ Abu Habra slammed his butcher’s knife into the meat.

  ‘Tell Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed that whatever the school needs, we’ve got them covered,’ Ginger and Pete reassured us in the fish and chip shop.

  The signs reading KEEP OUR KIDS IN SCHOOLS, NOT ON THE STREETS were displayed in shop windows all along Punchbowl Road, and the chatter about ways to help the school were getting louder and more urgent as the review date crept up closer.

  ‘It feels like you’re in another country,’ Aaron said looking around. ‘You guys have Indian food, Lebanese, seafood and charcoal chicken just up the street. It’s going to be hard getting me away from here.’

  ‘You should come by more often,’ I told him, walking back to the truck. ‘Just give me a heads up beforehand. I’ll need to let them know that the Yahooda is with me.’

  My home was buzzing way into the night. The boys stayed over for cards. Amira had two jobs: she was keeping score and helping PJ and Ibby cheat against Aaron and Huss, who were clueless.

  Abdul and Saff bought extra snacks from the servo and Matt helped Uncle Charlie in the shed. He was fascinated with the bees, too, and I think my uncle had found a new shareholder in Cronulla.

  Eventually, Aaron’s phone rang. It was his mum, who wanted him to come home.

  ‘Catch the train,’ we heard her say.

  Dad quickly finished his tea and refused to let Aaron go home on his own. ‘You like my son. How can I let you go home by yourself at night?’

  ‘It’s okay, Mr Nader. I can catch a taxi.’

  ‘Call me “uncle”,’ Dad insisted. ‘And I take you.’

  Chapter 32

  There were only two weeks left until the end of term and they were probably the most important two weeks ever.

  Not only did our school look different, it also started to feel different. The air felt easier to breathe and we had a sense of purpose now. We weren’t just idling by and strolling in and out of school like zombies anymore. The seniors set up a school YouTube channel which featured daily highlights, Ibby’s weekly cooking
videos as well as PJ covering songs that we voted on. Elias and Johnny walked around with a camera Mr Archie bought, capturing moments like Mum’s first day running the community garden.

  Mr Archie had said that if enough people showed up from the community on that first day, then she would be a permanent fixture, teaching gardening skills to parents and students once a week. There was no way I was going to let Mum put all that effort in only to have parents not show up. Ibby and Huss’s mums called their friends and PJ’s Grandma Ceci told the women at her church, which meant eighteen parents showed up on that first day, the official record for any community project at our school. I watched Mum’s face light up as she scooped up soil with her hands and showed parents how to lay it on the ground. ‘Raising plants is like raising children,’ she said. ‘If seed is planted with lots of water and sun, then it grow to be healthy and strong.’

  Another popular video on our channel was a special tribute to the two men who had started us on this path to recovery. Dad had clipped an article from the Daily Telegraph about Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed – The Tag-team Wonder Duo.

  ‘They didn’t even tell us,’ I showed the boys on our way to school. ‘I’m going to ask Miss K to make some copies and we’ll stick it around the school and on their office doors.’

  Huss waited behind Mrs Amin in the front office to film their reactions when they walked into their offices. Some of the seniors hid with party-poppers and streamers, too.

  Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed were talking and laughing with the men in suits. The seniors leaped out with confetti flying everywhere and cheers from the office ladies. It was important to show these two men that they meant so much to us and we appreciated all the hard work they had done so far, even when we didn’t deserve it.

  ‘How did you get this, lads?’ Mr Archie asked, his face turning red as he peeled the photocopied article away from his door.

  ‘Dad gave it to me,’ I said.

  PJ moved his phone closer to Mr Archie’s face. ‘This is the first time our principal gets embarrassed, ay.’

  Ibby tackled Mr Ahmed with a hug. ‘Wallah, you know I luv ya, sir.’

  We also posted a video of the team at training with Hazem who shared it on his Instagram with the caption, ‘Real Heroes’.