Boy, Everywhere, page 12
We followed the man, his head passing just a few centimeters below the door. I looked up at the big gap between the doorframe and me as I walked out after him.
Outside, some of the doors to rooms were open. A few men stood in the corridor and more downstairs. They all stared as the guard showed us the shower block and then as we came down the steps, probably because we were new. I focused on the floor. I didn’t want them to see the panic in my eyes. I caught up with Baba so I could walk beside him. We passed more and more doors that all looked the same. The only thing different in this place were the people.
“Right, here’s the canteen,” announced the gray-haired guard with a gentle smile. The smell of fried food hit my stomach and it groaned. “Grab a tray and plate. The lady there will serve you what you want. When you’re done, just come out of here and turn left, and you’ll see a couple of phones. The dial codes are on a sheet. Your wife’s in the same building, so you can call the women’s section for free.”
“Thank you.” Baba nodded and grabbed a plastic tray. “Sami, come—let’s eat quickly.”
I picked up a green tray and walked after him, along the counter. I made sure I didn’t look at any of the tables, even as we walked to ours, keeping my head down when everyone stopped and stared at us, my eyes focused on my cold, hardened fries and breaded fish, and some weird brown sauce.
The brown stuff smelled of smoke but tasted sweet and tangy. It was the first cooked meal I’d had since leaving Syria. I chewed each mouthful properly to taste the mushy potato inside the fries and the bland fish wrapped in fine breadcrumbs, combined with the tang from the brown sauce. Baba only ate half his portion before pushing his plate away.
I was still eating when a stocky man in a white T-shirt and baggy jeans pulled out the chair next to mine and banged his tray down. Not daring to look up, I stared down at his pristine white high-tops—the latest Air Jordans—my eyes so wide they hurt. They’d probably come out recently. I felt his eyes on me and then my ruined shoes. I shuffled my feet under my chair.
“Finish quickly, Sami. I need to call your mama,” said Baba, watching me.
I gobbled up three more fries, took a long sip of the watery orange juice, and stood up.
“You should look after them better,” the man snarled in English, nodding at my battered Air Jordans. This time I glanced at him and noticed he had a gold tooth.
Well, clearly YOU didn’t have to go on a boat and then run through the sea, I thought, my face feeling warm. But I didn’t say anything, I just nodded and tucked my chair back in as we got up to leave.
There were a few men sitting at the other tables eating, the only sound cutlery scraping and falling onto plates. No one was talking. Most of them looked like they hadn’t slept in days, unshaven and bloodshot-eyed.
I spotted a couple of younger boys like me. They didn’t look happy either. My heart felt like it’d plunged into my stomach. This was going to be a lot harder than the apartment in Turkey. Everyone had stronger spirits there. We all talked. We had hope. This was like being at a funeral. No—it was worse, because at least at a funeral, people cried and showed their emotions. This place was like a graveyard full of zombies.
I followed Baba out to the phones fixed to a wall in the silent corridor. He used his finger to scan the sheet of paper with the codes on it, then picked up the phone and dialed a number, the curly brown cable dangling over his arm.
“Hello,” he said calmly, although his forehead was furrowed. “Can I speak to Mrs. Zeina al-Hafez, please? I am her husband, Dr. Tarek al-Hafez. I am in the men’s section. We came last night, and I need to check she’s okay.” There was a pause. “Yes, but I need to speak to her myself, please. Please.” His voice began to sound more desperate. “Okay. Thank you.”
He put the phone on his shoulder. “They’re going to get her,” he told me.
After what seemed like ages, Mama came to the phone. I could hear her crying. Tears fell from Baba’s eyes as he spoke to her.
I turned away, my throat burning. I couldn’t bear to see Baba looking like this. I spotted a man hiding behind the door to the canteen. My brow tightened. Was he trying to listen in? I tried to ignore Baba’s weeping and focus on the man behind the open door. I stood tall. Why was he listening? Was I just being paranoid? Bullies could sense fear—Baba had told me that many times. So I squared up my shoulders and turned back to Baba, who was hunched over and looking completely broken.
He put the phone down, his eyes red-raw. “Come on,” he said, putting his arm on my shoulder.
I looked into the canteen as we passed it, but no one was standing there. Maybe I’d imagined it.
Baba didn’t say a word until we reached our room. He shut the door behind him quietly, shoved his backpack under his bed, and sat down on it.
“Your mama is okay, don’t worry.”
“Is Sara okay?” I asked. Guilt seeped into my chest. She must be struggling in a place like this.
“She’s being very clingy, but that’s understandable.” He rubbed his face. “She wet the bed, so your mama had to deal with that. One of the guards wasn’t nice about it. I can’t believe they’ve separated us, after everything we’ve been through.” He stood up, glared through the window at the brick wall outside, then started pacing the room.
I lay down and closed my eyes. I had to think of better times. I imagined Leila at school, flicking her hair, her hands on her hips, telling Joseph where to go, and him just looking at her goofily because he didn’t know why he’d upset her.
I imagined sitting on my bed in my own room, watching the sunset, my body relaxed, without a worry in the world. At home, I hadn’t known what worry was, not really.
Chapter 19
I jerked up from my pillow gasping, my throat so tight I could hardly breathe. My face poured with sweat. I’d seen them all drowning. Their boat had capsized just behind ours. Their screams still rang through my ears like I was there. I’d seen that face submerge underwater again.
Then I’d become the submerged person, holding my breath as I frantically kicked up to the surface for air, then something pulled my body backward, sucking it down to the seabed. I hadn’t been able to hold my breath any longer, and I opened my mouth, my lungs immediately filling with water, my windpipe bursting with fluid. That was when I’d woken up gasping.
I wondered how much longer I would keep having this nightmare.
Looking to my left, I saw Baba’s empty bed. I dashed to the door and gripped the handle. Where was he? Why didn’t I hear him go? A thought stopped me from turning it. What if Baba’s been taken away?
As I was wondering what to do, the door handle turned under my grip. I stepped back, and Baba walked in with wet hair, looking weary.
“Ah, Sami. You were in a deep sleep when I left.”
“Where did you go? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I went to have a shower. Go and have one.” He dumped a tatty green towel on his bed and slipped out of his scruffy tan leather brogues.
“Is it safe to go alone, though?”
“Yes, it’s all refugee men here. Just like in Turkey—don’t worry.”
I did need a shower but I could wait a while longer. I sat back on my bed. “Baba, how long are we here for? I want to go home.”
Baba sighed. “Home? Sami, we have no home now. It’s been sold. It might have even been bombed, who knows?” He looked down, shuffling his feet on the green carpet.
“What about Tete? We don’t even know if she’s okay. When are we going to call her?”
“Soon. We should be seeing a lawyer today,” Baba said, looking up and smiling at me encouragingly. “We won’t be here too long, because we have Muhammad’s house to go to. He’s arranging it all. He knows we’re here now.”
I let out a breath of relief. We had some hope. “Have I met Muhammad before?”
“No. Even I haven’t met him,” Baba laughed dryly. “His father grew up with your jiddo in Syria. Tete knows the family very well. I spoke to him before we left. He offered to help set us up in the UK once we got here. Anyway, he’s Uncle Muhammad to you.”
“Oh, right.” It’s all going to be okay, I told myself, relaxing at the thought of freedom. I put my hands over my greasy hair. “I’ll go have a shower then.”
“Okay. Here, take this.” Baba handed me the damp green towel. “It was the last one there.”
I stepped out into the cold, dismal corridor, focusing on the socks, underpants, sweaters, and T-shirts drying on the railings. I wondered where they were washed.
All the doors were shut, except one. I peeked in as I walked past and saw it was exactly the same as ours, with a single window looking out to a brick wall and two single beds covered in sky-blue sheets, except these people had a lot of belongings. There were books on their table, clothes and packets of cookies on the floor, and posters covering the walls. It looked like they’d been here a while.
As I approached the door of the shower block, I heard a man shout. I wasn’t sure if it came from inside. I took a slow step forward and into the mirrored area. It was empty, but I heard a shuffle and a thud against one of the shower stalls and then a loud groan.
“Don’t you talk to me like that again!” someone hissed.
My heart pounding, I ran back into the corridor, wincing as my Jordans squeaked on the floor. Once I was a few doors away, I slowed to a walk, to make it look like it wasn’t me who had gone into the showers.
A few seconds later, a stocky man with short, black hair passed me from behind, his shoulders hunched over as he took long strides along the corridor. He turned and glared at me as he walked by, his thick, heavy eyebrows pulled together, his jaw clenched, and his hands in fists. It was the man with the Air Jordans from the canteen.
I slowed down to increase the distance between us. I didn’t want to go back to the showers while he was out in the corridor. Finally, he opened a door about twenty meters ahead, slipped inside, and slammed it shut, the sound echoing against the walls.
I turned and rushed to the shower room. It was quiet and smelled like it had been cleaned recently. I entered the first shower stall, shut the door behind me and hung my towel on the hook.
Ah, a proper shower, I thought with a smile. I’d always taken simple things like that for granted.
I pulled down my jeans, and as I looked at my feet and the cream-colored tiles beneath them, out of the corner of my eye I saw a leg on the floor below the adjoining wall. Someone moaned.
My throat tightened and a cold shiver shot down my spine. I quickly pulled up my jeans, struggling with the zip in my panic.
I stepped out of my stall and walked hesitantly to the one next to it. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see someone slumped against the shower wall holding his bleeding head, wincing.
I scanned the main door to see if anyone was there, then dashed toward it. But then stopped, ran back into a stall, and pressed the red emergency switch. It lit up and buzzed like the ones that call a nurse in a hospital. I prayed no one would see me and that the Air Jordans man wouldn’t be coming back. He had to be the one that had attacked the man. My hands trembled. My heart was beating like a drum, blood flooding into my ears. My legs couldn’t move fast enough to the corridor outside.
No one was around, so I sprinted to our room, feeling as cold and pale as the walls around me. I entered with my back to Baba, pulling the door in with me and shutting it, my head down. I didn’t want him to see my spooked face.
“And then there were two,” someone said.
Not Baba.
I turned and saw the Air Jordans man on his knees behind Baba, his muscly arm wrapped around Baba’s throat.
Chapter 20
I couldn’t hear anything but my heartbeat. My limbs buckled, numb with fear, and I fell to the floor. Get up! I put my hands on the carpet, slowly pushing myself up to look at Baba’s face.
“Ah, welcome back.” The Air Jordans man grinned at me like a movie villain, his eyes bloodshot-red, his gold tooth gleaming.
“Sami, don’t say a word,” said Baba through his teeth.
“No. You don’t say a word, doctor.”
I didn’t know what to do. I thought about getting up and running out the door, but I was scared he’d hurt Baba if I did that. He’d do the same if I screamed for help.
I pulled my knees to my chest and covered the fear on my face with my hands, trying to think. Seconds later came the shouting of men outside, the thumps of people running up the stairs, keys jangling. I froze. Then a siren went off.
“Don’t move!” Air Jordans man grimaced. I saw him tense up.
“Call an ambulance!” Someone outside cried.
It was then that I saw the splatter of dried blood on the man’s T-shirt. A chill passed through me. My gut told me I had to do something before he hurt us.
“What do you want from us?” I asked him.
“Aha, he speaks. You are going to get me out of here.”
“How? We’re stuck in here ourselves!”
“Yeah, but nobody wants to lose a good doctor and his young son,” he said, grinning again.
How did he know about Baba?
Baba’s call to Mama! It must’ve been him listening in. I wasn’t being paranoid.
He turned his face to Baba’s and sneered. “They’ll accept my demands to save you. You just keep quiet and do as you’re told. Otherwise I’ll kill you.”
“Please, listen—” I started, my brain struggling to think what to say.
“To you?!” he scoffed. Baba raised his eyebrows at me, and I guessed he was telling me to shut up. But I couldn’t do nothing. The man pulled his arm tighter around Baba’s neck. He had large white scars on both his biceps. I had to tread carefully. I had to make sure he didn’t get angrier.
“Is—is it money you need?” I asked, sitting straighter. “I can help you—”
“What do you know, you spoiled little brat? Stop talking!”
My shoulders dropped. I shut my mouth. Anything I said was going to make things worse.
“You are going to help me, you got that right,” he said, raising his chin and rolling his eyes at me. “You’ll be the reason they negotiate my release from here.”
“You don’t need to do this,” I dared to say. “You can leave us before the guards come looking for you.”
“Shut up! You two are my ticket out of here. I want the guards to find us in here. I’m going nowhere without you.”
“No, listen … I know where you can find some money.” Maybe he’d leave if I distracted him.
“So go and get it for me, pretty boy.”
“I’ve seen where the guards lock the phones and cash,” I lied. “But I can’t do it by myself. I’ll stall them all, and you can grab what you want and then make a run for it.”
His gold tooth flashed as he pulled his head back and laughed. “You haven’t been here long, have you? I can’t get out of here like that!”
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, trying to think of another plan.
“Oi,” he said, his face straightening. “What’s that on your hand? Give it here.”
Oh God—Jiddo’s ring. I put my left hand under my knee. “Nothing,” I said as my insides dipped.
“Take it off. Now!”
“I can’t,” I said, looking down at the carpet.
“You want me to break your finger and get it off for you?”
I kept my eyes down, my heart pulsing in my head.
“I said, hand it here now or your dad gets it.”
“It’s my grandad’s! I—I can’t …”
“Sami, just give it,” said Baba, his voice pinched and desperate.
I looked up; the man’s arm had tightened around Baba’s throat, and Baba’s face was bulging with pressure. My body stiffened.
I slowly started pulling the ring off, my face boiling. I’d promised Tete that I would keep it safe and pass it on. Her disappointed face flashed in front of my eyes. All I ever do is let everyone down, I thought. Mama, Sara, Joseph, Aadam, and now Tete.
I slipped it off the top of my finger. “It’s not worth anything—it was my grandad’s, that’s all,” I said.
“I’ll decide if it’s worth anything, you little brat! You seriously want to see your dad gone?”
I sighed and got up to hand it to him. I had no choice. He stretched for it, still on his knees, releasing Baba a little as he tilted forward.
Then, as I shuffled closer on my knees, I saw Tete’s face handing me the ring and remembered how I’d promised to look after it and pass it on to the next generation of al-Hafezes. In that split second, I decided I wasn’t going to give in.
Air Jordans man leaned further on his knees, unstable on the soft mattress. I reached out to look like I was handing the ring over, locked eyes with Baba, then gripped the man’s arm and used all my strength to yank him off the bed, forcing him and Baba to fall to the ground.
As they fell, Baba elbowed the man in the ribs and turned to punch him in the face.
“HELP! HELP! QUICKLY!” I screamed as loud as I could, hoping the guards down the hall would hear me. Baba wrestled the man on the floor, his face pressed into the carpet. Air Jordans man squirmed and thrashed his legs as Baba sat on top of his back to hold him down.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” I screamed again, throwing the door open and pushing the red emergency switch.
“Get off me, NOW! You’re dead. I’m telling you, you’re dead!” he screamed, kicking his legs up and down, his pristine Air Jordans getting scuffed on the carpet.
Just as he managed to twist and throw Baba off his back, two guards ran in. They saw him leap onto Baba. I jumped out of their way, my back to the toilet wall, holding my breath as I watched the guards pull the man off.
