Boy, Everywhere, page 16
I started to type, telling him everything we’d been through, how hard it’d been, and how much I missed him. I said sorry for not emailing before and explained the reasons why, but I felt so guilty. I told him that I’d thought of us playing football together when things had been really bad and that I couldn’t wait to see his chubby face again.
I pressed Send, then checked the date of his last email—almost two months ago. Why hadn’t he written again? Had he left? Or given up on me? I hoped more than anything that he was okay.
I scrolled all the way through my inbox again but there was no email from Aadam. Had he made it out of Turkey safely? Had he got my first email? I emailed him again to give him our full address in Stockport and to let him know I was thinking of him.
As I pressed Send the door flung open and Hassan barged into the room. “Get off my bed,” he sneered as he opened his wardrobe door and began rifling through it. I wasn’t going to let him talk to me like I was a piece of dirt. I’d had enough.
“Make me,” I replied, logging out of my email account and sliding Baba’s phone into my jeans pocket.
“Don’t make me laugh. I’d have you on the floor in a second.”
“Try it then.” I stood up.
Hassan closed the wardrobe door and strode over to me, squaring up his shoulders and bringing his face close to mine. “GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM!”
I recoiled as his spit spluttered into my face. He pushed his fist into my left shoulder and I fell to the bed, then he turned around and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
I lay on the bed and thought of my plan. I had to get away from here. From him. I am going back to where I came from, I thought, don’t you worry. I wanted to get as far away from him as I possibly could.
Chapter 27
A gigantic wave came crashing over us, forcing Sara from Mama’s lap. She went flying over the edge of the boat and I leaped up, pushing Mama and the old lady apart to dive in after her. I struggled to move in the freezing cold water. I couldn’t see anything at first, let alone Sara. I searched the water around me as I heard Mama wailing and Baba shouting.
Sara’s face appeared beneath the surface right in front of me. She kicked and waved her arms, gasping for air. I grabbed her head and pulled her toward me, looking around frantically for our boat.
I could just make it out in the distance. Putting my left arm over Sara’s chest, trying to keep her afloat, I swam back to the boat. I was swimming forever, but finally I saw Baba hanging over the edge, shouting, “SAMI! OVER HERE! SWIM, SON, SWIM!”
Flicking my wet hair from my face, I made my way to his voice. As we approached, Baba grabbed Sara and pulled her into the boat. A man beside him helped me climb back in and soon I stood dripping all over Mama.
Baba gave Sara the kiss of life on the floor of the boat. Mama rubbed my legs to warm me up, but I couldn’t stop shivering. I couldn’t believe I’d just done that. I’d jumped into the one thing I hated most in the entire world. As Sara began breathing, Baba grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “Sami, you’ve made me a very proud man today. Thank you.”
A loud bang woke me up. I looked around, listening for the sound again. At least the nightmare was getting better. At least we’d all survived. There was nothing but silence now. Maybe Hassan had left for school. I slid out from under my duvet and headed downstairs, my stomach grumbling.
As I walked down the last two steps, I heard an odd sound—someone crying. I stood still in the hallway to listen to where it was coming from.
The TV blared in the front room, the extractor fan whirred in the kitchen. The smell of rice cooking swam up my nostrils. Was the crying coming from the dining room? Was it Sara? Even though she still wasn’t talking, she’d been so much happier recently, so what had happened?
I opened the door and froze. Mama sat at the dining table, sobbing. She looked down at her hands, laid out in front of her. I stepped forward and saw they were raw and red with deep cuts all over her fingers. The cuts on her middle finger were bleeding.
“Mama, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
She jolted round, clearly startled to see me.
“I’m okay, Sami,” she said as she wiped away her tears and pushed back the wooden chair to stand up.
I put my hand on her arm. “Mama, please. Tell me.”
“I don’t have anything to say, Sami.”
“Why are your hands so sore? What happened to them?”
“Oh, it’s from the cleaning I’ve been doing. A couple of the ladies told me to use bleach and strong chemicals without wearing gloves. They were so horrible …” She sniffed.
Mama had been cleaning? Then it hit me—of course she couldn’t work at a school yet, just like Baba couldn’t work as a doctor. I didn’t know what to say, so I just put my arms around her shoulders and put my head to hers.
She put her hand on mine. I winced—it felt as rough as sandpaper.
“Have you shown Baba? He’ll know how to fix them.”
“I’ve not had a chance to talk to him since he left to see the lawyer yesterday morning. Anyway, he’s so exhausted—I don’t want to trouble him.”
I thought of Baba having to work at the factory. “When will he be able to work as a doctor again? Do you know?”
Mama sighed. “It can take a long time for the government to check the paperwork. They can’t just let anyone into their hospitals. Plus, he’ll have to apply to register himself first and go through a long interview process.” She slid my arms off her shoulders and got up.
I stepped back and let her leave the room, but seeing her wet, pink face made me want to scream. How much longer are we going to be punished like this? I wondered. How much longer can we live like this?
We’d lost everything we owned, and now my parents were losing their self-respect. I couldn’t see Mama cry like this anymore. I sprinted upstairs to grab my jacket from the bedroom door.
“I’m just going for a quick walk!” I shouted and left the house before Mama could stop me.
I walked to the shops that I’d passed on the main road when I was supposed to be watching Hassan play football. I passed the pharmacy and the butcher then stopped outside the convenience store’s glass doors, pulling up my shoulders before stepping in. The shopkeeper glanced up from behind his newspaper, he eyed me head to toe, then went back to it. His white hair was gelled to the side, a contrast against his brown skin and almost purple lips.
I slowly walked up to the cluttered front counter, rubbing my finger over Jiddo’s ring, and took a deep breath. “Hello, Sir, um …”
He eyed me again. “Can I help you, young man?” he said in an Indian accent.
“Um … Do you have any jobs I can do for you today?”
He smiled. “What are you looking for, hmm?”
“I don’t know really. I just need something to earn some money to help my parents.”
He looked concerned. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Um, nothing really. They just need help with money right now.”
“Look, I don’t have anything at the moment. I’ve already got a paperboy.”
“A paperboy? What does he do?”
He laughed. “Deliver the newspapers, of course!”
“Oh.” I felt stupid.
“Leave me your telephone number and I’ll contact you if anything small comes up, yah?”
“I don’t have a telephone number.”
“You don’t have a house phone?”
“Um, yes … but I don’t know it.” And Aunty Fatimah definitely wouldn’t be happy to give it to me.
“Tut, kids these days! If you don’t know your own number, what good will you be at working, eh?” He snickered, shook his head, and started reading again.
I stood there for a few seconds, unsure what to say next. Finally, I managed, “Thank you for your time.”
“Okay, boy. Bye.”
I let my shoulders slump as I walked slowly back to the house, passing house after house with their pristine driveways, some with lawns, some with paving and some with black tar. This place is destroying us. I told myself. How am I going to convince Baba to go back to Damascus? He’ll never listen. But maybe if I go back first and am there with Tete, I could persuade them all to come back.
As I walked up the drive, Sara waved at me. She had her nose pressed against the front room window—it looked so out of shape, I couldn’t help but laugh. Mama rushed to the front door, flinging it open.
“Where did you go, Sami? You can’t just walk out like that!”
“I just needed a walk. Don’t worry about it—”
“Don’t you talk to me like that!”
I ignored her and headed for the stairs. I couldn’t tell her I went looking for a job to help her. She’d feel even worse.
“Sami, get back down here now! You’ve got to behave more maturely. What’s wrong with you? You haven’t even gotten properly dressed. Get in there and look after Sara!”
I was trying to be mature, just as I’d tried to be ever since leaving Syria, to make up for what I’d done, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing I do is enough. What’s the point of me being here? I’ll be more useful at home with Tete.
I paused on the stairs, closed my eyes for a long second, and sighed deeply. “I’ll just go and hang up my jacket,” I said.
Chapter 28
Hassan was told to take me out to play football again that evening. As we walked out the front door, passing his dad’s Mercedes, he glanced back at me, his dark brown eyes narrowed.
“I want my room back. You better get out my house soon. Otherwise I’m gonna make your life hell at school.”
I held back a step and let him walk away. I couldn’t stand him, but there was nothing I could do while living in his house. Aunty Fatimah already thought I was a savage who’d lead her golden boy astray; I didn’t want to do anything to prove her right. So I followed him halfway up the road, watched him turn the corner, then turned back around and headed toward the house. A plane flew overhead; I looked up as it rose steadily into the clouds.
Aunty Fatimah’s tall, lanky body appeared in the porch window. “Why are you back? Where’s Hassan? Is he okay?” she asked, in a panic.
“Yeah, he’s fine, I just don’t feel well enough to go to football today, so I came back.”
She rolled her eyes and let me through the door.
* * *
I watched Baba playing “Teacher Teacher” with Sara on the beige carpet in the front room. Mama was out cleaning, no one else was there. After about ten minutes of watching Sara running around collecting papers and giving silent instructions with her hands, I spoke.
“Baba, can we go out?” I wondered if I could persuade him to go to the airport. I needed to check out the planes and work out how to get on one.
He looked me over. “I thought you weren’t well?”
“I’m feeling better now.”
“Hmmm …” He raised his eyebrows and carried on playing with Sara for a minute then added, “Do you know what? Let’s go. We haven’t done anything together for months.”
“Years, more like!” I joked.
He gave me a look and stood up. “Come on, Sara—Baba will take you to the shops. You need some fresh air. Let’s get you some treats.” In that moment, he seemed so much more relaxed—like he used to be before the war.
“Can’t we go to the airport?” I asked, keeping my face straight, trying not to look like I cared.
“The airport? What do you want to go there for? That place will bring back bad memories.” He shuddered. “I’m surprised you said that. We only just left it!”
“The planes. We could watch them—it’ll be fun.”
Baba shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be good for Sara to go back there. Let’s go get some chocolate. That’ll be fun and a lot cheaper.”
I followed him into the hallway, unable to think of another reason for him to take us. Chocolate was better than being stuck in this house, I decided as I chucked my jacket back on.
* * *
It was a cold day. The sun was setting in the fiery red sky. Traffic on the main road had come to a standstill, and people sat inside cafes, talking and drinking coffee.
Baba held Sara’s hand, put his right arm around me, and smiled. He walked with his head high, asking us questions and pointing out different shops and buildings. Sara loved the pigeons, so we stopped to watch them on the sidewalk for a few minutes.
I smiled at Sara and at Baba. I realized we were all actually smiling for once. They’ll be fine without me here, I decided. Look at them. Sara still wasn’t talking but wasn’t stuck to Mama as much and the spark had returned to her eyes. Her voice would come back too, as soon as Baba got her to that famous psychologist. I needed to go back for Tete. And to make sure Joseph was okay.
We passed the construction site I’d seen before. I thought about becoming an engineer again—Joseph too. He was great at science; we could both become engineers and help rebuild Syria once things calmed down.
It would all work out. Mama and Baba could come back in a few months, once Sara had recovered properly. I could help Tete while they fixed Sara. We’d all be doing something useful. My stomach fluttered thinking about it.
“Right, let’s go and get a treat,” said Baba, as he stepped into the same convenience store I’d been to that very morning. My chest tightened. I kept my head down, hoping the shopkeeper wouldn’t see me with Baba and say something about me wanting a job. When I peeked behind the counter, I saw a woman with a small red dot on her forehead.
“Choose one thing you’d like, then!” said Baba, grinning as he counted the coins from his pocket. I picked up a KitKat, and Sara chose a colorful box of Nerds, some candy I’d never seen before. Holding the bright-red wrapper in my hands made me realize I hadn’t had a KitKat in ages. I couldn’t even remember how it tasted. I couldn’t wait to smell the creamy milky chocolate.
We walked back, munching on our treats. I imagined my stomach grinning at tasting the sweet, crisp wafer after so long. But the happy moment evaporated as soon as we stepped onto Hassan’s road, my stomach rocking. I didn’t want to go back to that house. I had to think of a way to get to the airport and leave.
* * *
That night, after dinner, Baba let me check my emails on his phone, but there was nothing from Joseph or Aadam. It was my turn to worry about them.
I was about to return Baba’s phone when I heard a commotion downstairs. Baba and Uncle were shouting, then I heard someone run up the stairs.
Baba burst into the room. “Sami! The criminal charges have been dropped!” He wore the biggest grin I’d seen on his face in a long time, his eyes swimming with relief.
“Huh?”
“I just opened this from Miss Patel—Muhammad forgot to give me it earlier!” he said, waving a letter around. “Her application to the Prosecution Service was successful! They accepted all our evidence—the government’s agreed to drop the charges because our lives were in danger and we had no choice but to leave Syria.”
“That’s great!” I remembered David, the guard, telling me Miss Patel was trying to get the charges dropped.
“And because we’ve got somewhere to stay, Miss Patel’s trying to get them to grant us refugee status quickly. Then I can start looking for work. Proper work … Oh, Sami!” He hugged me tight, grabbing my head and holding it to his shoulders. “Things will get better—we will be happy here,” Baba added.
You will, I thought. But I’m going back. I have to.
Chapter 29
Wednesday came too fast. I woke up to Baba shaking my shoulder and whispering loudly, as if he were an actor on stage.
“Sami, come on. You’ve got school today. Wake up!”
I batted him away. “Ugh. I don’t need to go school.”
“Don’t be stupid. Get up.”
I groaned, lifted the pink duvet off my warm body, and put my feet on the floor. Sara was still asleep in bed, snoring as if she’d not slept for years, her hair spread wildly across the pillow.
“Sami! We haven’t got long. Your uniform’s on the bed. Get dressed and come downstairs. I’ve asked the boss for two hours off work to take you in. Come on! We have a meeting with the headteacher before the other children arrive.”
I showered, dressed, and trudged downstairs, almost zombie-like. I wasn’t used to waking up early anymore and having nightmare-filled sleep was tiring. But I was going to go to school for one reason alone—the computers. I could find out how to get to the airport and the flight times to Syria without anyone else knowing.
In the kitchen Mama handed me a black blazer with a yellow logo embroidered on it. “Here—it’s one of Hassan’s—he left it out for you.”
“I don’t need it—this sweater’s fine.” I pushed the blazer back to her. The kettle boiled, a burst of steam erupting from its spout.
“Sami, you have to wear a jacket—it’s part of the uniform policy. Just put it on. And you’re not wearing those dirty Nikes either. There’s a pair of Hassan’s school shoes in the porch for you to wear. You’ve got to look the part.”
I hung my shoulders and frowned. I didn’t want any more of that vomit Hassan’s hand-me-downs, but I had no choice, so I took the blazer and put it on the breakfast bar, next to my bowl full of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.
“Eat quickly!” Baba said as I poured milk over the crisp flakes. “It’ll take us twenty minutes to walk there and they’re expecting us before eight.” He glanced at the wall clock.
