Huda and Me Page 5

  ‘I’ve moved to a new suburb in Melbourne. I think the team’s called the Williamstown Warriors,’ he says.

  My mouth drops open. ‘No way! That’s my team!’

  I can’t believe it. We’re probably living around the corner from each other.

  The boy grins. ‘Whoa! I’m Michael, by the way.’ He sticks out his arm again, and this time we shake hands.

  ‘I’m Akeal.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Akeal.’

  Michael says my name to himself twice, like he’s practising how to say it. ‘So, why didn’t you have your shoe on?’ he asks. ‘And how come you were all wet?’

  I consider telling him that I spilled juice on myself, but I know it’s haram to lie. ‘I was … um … I was making wudu.’

  I can see he doesn’t know what that means from the way he stares at me blankly. ‘Wud-what?’

  But before I can answer, he jumps in again: ‘Is it true they’re changing the team uniform to black and red? I haven’t been able to get it yet, because they said new ones might be coming out.’

  I haven’t heard that rumour, but I’m glad he’s changed the subject himself. ‘Um, I dunno, to be honest. But black and red would be so cool.’

  Michael grins and shifts his feet. ‘Hey, I’m busting.’ He darts to the closest cubicle and slams the door shut.

  I’m not sure whether to wait for him or not. I remember that Amira is waiting. ‘Michael, I’d better head off. I’ll catch you back in Melbourne, okay!’

  ‘No worries, man! See ya soon!’

  I hear Michael pull down a bunch of toilet paper and figure he might need a bit of privacy anyway.

  No Escape

  I watched the second hand move slowly around the clock above the whiteboard in my classroom. My eyelids felt like they were made of clay.

  ‘So, what’s the answer, Akeal?’ Mr Morrison was pointing to a division question on the board, and I realised the whole class was staring at me.

  I swallowed hard and wiped some drool off my lip. ‘Umm … sixty-four?’

  ‘Please try to stay awake in class. The answer is eight.’

  Mr Morrison rambled some more – something about our projects being due – and then he said the words I was dying to hear.

  ‘Pack-up time!’

  I shoved my homework and pencil case into my bag. I knew I had to be quick – Aunt Amel was waiting. I quite like walking home, but Aunt Amel had insisted she and Omar pick us up after school. ‘To save time,’ she’d said.

  ‘Excuse me, Akeal. Can I see you for a minute?’ Mr Morrison called.

  My heart plopped into my guts and I dragged my feet over to his desk.

  The first early morning was easy. Waking up at Fajr time isn’t new to me. Sometimes Dad and I pray and then go on early-morning fishing trips. But I don’t usually have to stay awake dusting and scrubbing until midnight. It was only day two with Aunt Amel, and I was already exhausted.

  ‘Sure, Mr Morrison. Is anything wrong?’

  Mr Morrison was wearing his burgundy woollen vest with the five big buttons. The bottom one fell off earlier in the year, but I don’t think he noticed. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Someone had already turned out the light, so his beard looked almost black. Usually it’s more golden-brown, with a few bits of grey. He waited for the last of the kids to leave the room.

  ‘I’ve been a bit worried about you this week.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Is there something going on that you want to tell me about?’

  I looked out the window. Anything to not have to look at him.

  ‘C’mon, buddy. Tell me what’s going on. You haven’t been your usual self. You’ve been half asleep. Your spelling test this morning … I couldn’t even make out some of the words …’

  Mr Morrison seemed like he really cared. I took a breath. ‘You know how Mum and Dad have gone overseas?’ I started.

  He nodded.

  ‘Our babysitter, you know, she expects us to do a lot of stuff.’

  ‘Like chores?’ Mr Morrison blinked his small almond eyes, twice. He’s a blinker.

  ‘Yeh. Like, she makes us do different jobs before school and after school.’

  Mr Morrison crossed his arms. ‘Well, that’s about taking responsibility, buddy. You have a big family, so everyone has to pull their weight. Would it be fair if she had to do everything for you?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Would it be right if you left everything up to your older brothers and sisters?’

  ‘No, of course—’

  ‘Good. You get it. What you need to do is have a bit of a think about time management. When I was your age, I made sure I did all my chores first thing – none of that jumping on the TV for four hours – and then I got onto my homework.’

  ‘But she makes us get up so early to—’

  ‘Early bird gets the worm!’ Mr Morrison chuckled and shook his head.

  My shoulders slumped. I realised there was no point. ‘Yeh, you’re right. Thanks, Mr Morrison.’

  I turned to leave. I could picture Aunt Amel in the carpark right now, leaning over Omar and beeping the horn in front of all the other kids.

  ‘Good lad. Remember – time management!’ he said as I walked out of the room.

  Huda was waiting for me outside the classroom door. The dark rings around her eyes were worse than mine.

  ‘What was all that about?’ she puffed as she tried to keep up with me.

  ‘Nothing. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t listen.’

  ‘Crap. I thought Mr Morrison would help. We need to hurry – I saw her from my classroom window beeping the horn and throwing lollies at kids. She’s going to embarrass us, especially if she’s waving her hijab around like a flag again.’

  Luckily, by the time we reached my parents’ car most of the schoolkids had already left. But a few were still hanging around, picking up lollies off the ground. We quickly jumped into the back seat.

  ‘The besties are here!’ Aunt Amel cooed from the front passenger seat. She twisted around to face us. ‘And how was your day today, children?’

  ‘Good,’ me and Huda said at the same time. Then we both stared out the window.

  Omar glanced at me in the rear-view mirror as he turned on the ignition. In the last two days, I was sure he’d driven Aunt Amel about the distance between Melbourne and Perth. Three times over. He’d taken her to all her coffee dates and lunches, and waited for her at the cinemas. The worst, he’d said, was when he had to watch her from outside restaurants while she had dinner with people who she called ‘suitors’.

  She took Raheed everywhere with her, too – except for when she took me and Huda to or from school. Then she left him with the twins. I hadn’t seen him since the night Mum and Dad left.

  ‘So, what did we learn at school?’ she pushed. She was still twisted around, staring at us.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said.

  Huda shrugged her shoulders.

  Aunt Amel pressed her lips together and then swung back to face the front. But she wasn’t done with the conversation.

  ‘The twins have been working hard to perfect their biscotti,’ she blathered. ‘I must say, their custard-cream biscuits are my favourite so far – with a nice mug of oolong tea.’

  The drive home was short. I wished she’d just let us walk.

  ‘And I had the best pedi and mani today. Look at my nails! First I told Kholoud I wanted red, but then I changed my mind. Aren’t they divine?’

  She lifted her hands to show us. They were a metallic bronze. Worse than red.

  When we pulled into our driveway, my sister lunged out of the car before Omar had even pulled the handbrake. I followed suit, but Aunt Amel was faster. She leapt between us and the front door and grinned.

  ‘Wait, children! Come, come, my little butler and maid. Remind me, what is your evening routine?’

  Aunt Amel already knew the answer. She’d asked us this very same question yesterday afternoon.


  Huda just sighed, so I decided to answer for the both of us.

  ‘Put all our school uniforms in the wash, hang them out, put fresh sheets on the beds, do the dishes, vacuum the rooms and …’

  This was the bit I hated the most. Aunt Amel peered down at me. I knew she was excited. ‘And …?’

  ‘Give you a foot rub and scalp massage before tidying the bathroom.’

  Aunt Amel patted me on the head. ‘Good boy!’ She turned to Huda and said pointedly, ‘Remember, it takes a village! Your parents would be so proud of you! Now, off you go, the night is still young! But keep it down – we don’t want to wake Raheed from his afternoon nap!’

  We raced to get away from her, though I spared a thought for my big brother Omar and looked back to see him still sitting in the car, slumped over the steering wheel.

  In the kitchen, the smell of baked goodies filled my nose. Hundreds of different biscuits, muffins and cupcakes lined the benches. For a second, I thought I was in the wrong house. But then I saw Suha slouched over the counter, surrounded by muffin tins and baking trays.

  ‘How did you manage to make all of this after school?’ Huda asked, licking her lips.

  ‘We didn’t,’ Suha mumbled.

  ‘You didn’t bake this?’

  A second voice chimed in: ‘We didn’t go to school.’ It was Layla. She was on the ground – I could see her feet poking out from behind the counter.

  ‘You stayed home to bake?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeh. We haven’t been to school all week.’

  I’d assumed Omar and Aunt Amel had been dropping them off every morning after us. Huda shivered and snorted at the same time. Suha’s eyes welled with tears.

  ‘We’ve been trying so hard to make the best recipes,’ she said. ‘Aunt Amel says we’re getting better but we’re not there yet. Not good enough to be on TV.’

  I picked up a mini cupcake with fancy red icing on top that looked like a rose and shoved it into my mouth. Huda did the same.

  ‘Tastes pretty good to me!’ I said between chews.

  I wanted to stay and breathe in the sugary smells and make my sisters feel better, but I heard Aunt Amel’s footsteps on the verandah. ‘C’mon, Huda, she’s coming.’

  Huda swiped a chocolate cookie, then both of us grabbed two more cupcakes and we headed to our rooms to change into our cleaning clothes.

  Grabbing the empty washing basket from the laundry, I couldn’t help but think of all the bowls with dried batter and crusty pans we’d have to scrub tonight. There was no point collecting the twins’ uniforms for washing – I wished I’d known that yesterday. So I headed to Kholoud’s room, knocking gently on my big sister’s door.

  Nothing. I knocked a little harder. Then I heard it – a muffled sob.

  I pushed open her bedroom door just enough to poke my head through. ‘Kholoud … you okay?’

  She was sitting on her bed, but she wasn’t alone. She was leaning on Huda’s shoulder, and Huda was stroking our big sister’s head.

  Huda looked at me with sad eyes then turned back to Kholoud. ‘Sshhhh, it’s okay. You’re going to be an amazing make-up artist one day.’

  Kholoud bawled. The top part of Huda’s cleaning shirt was covered in blobs of tears and snot now, as well as its bleach marks and some gross-looking stains.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Huda went on, ‘I love the way you do my make-up, and the way you give me advice about colour-matching.’

  Kholoud lifted her head and looked at Huda. I thought she was going to say something, but instead she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. I let myself into the room and closed the door behind me.

  Kholoud turned to me. ‘I really do my best. I lay out her clothes every morning, even her accessories and shoes – just like she tells me. I do her hair, and that’s the worst, because she barely has any. But she always complains. She says I’m trying to make her into someone she’s not, and then she makes me start over.’

  I didn’t understand this making-yourself-beautiful stuff, but I understood how it felt when your best wasn’t good enough. I gave my big sister a hug.

  Just then the door creaked open and the twins staggered in. They plonked themselves onto the bed. I was surprised Kholoud let them do that – she rarely lets any of us in her room, unless we have secrets or bubblegum to share. Omar must’ve seen the twins, because he followed a moment later and closed the door behind him.

  ‘Where is she?’ Huda asked.

  Layla stuffed her face into the doona.

  ‘She’s outside talking to Mr Kostiki,’ said Omar.

  Perhaps I was imagining it, but he looked scrawnier than he had a few days ago. His eyes were red and he rubbed at them.

  ‘She just finished lecturing me on how to drive in a dust storm. We’ve never had a dust storm – let alone had to drive in one! I don’t know what planet she’s on!’

  We nodded in agreement. Layla removed her face from the doona so she could speak. ‘I can’t bake anymore. My hands are about to fall off. She doesn’t even drink half the cups of tea we bring her. I’m falling behind at school, and I think we’ve used up all the flour in the supermarket.’

  We all looked at each other.

  ‘What are we gonna do?’ Huda asked.

  No one spoke at first, because none of us knew the answer. But then I realised it was simple.

  ‘We tell Mum and Dad!’

  ‘How do we do that? If they ring she’ll just tell them we’re out, or asleep. She won’t want us talking to them. And we can’t call them – she hides the phone. I’ve looked everywhere for it.’ Kholoud had clearly thought about this already. Mum and Dad don’t believe kids should have phones, so there was only one in the house. And Aunt Amel had it.

  ‘I’ll tell Mr Kostiki then,’ Huda chimed in.

  ‘She doesn’t let you go over there anymore,’ I reminded my sister.

  ‘Leave it to me, folks. Leave it to me.’

  It was eleven p.m. and Huda and I still hadn’t finished our butler and maid duties, but Aunt Amel wanted her massage.

  ‘Hud Hud, Akoolie, I’m reaaady!’

  Aunt Amel was already laid out on Dad’s recliner couch. She ripped off her hijab. I heard Huda whimper beside me, but she stepped forward and took her spot near Aunt Amel’s head.

  ‘Make sure your hands are warm this time,’ Aunt Amel snapped. ‘Last time you gave my head a chill with your bitterly cold fingers.’ And she closed her eyes and rested her head back.

  Huda breathed into her hands and then rubbed them together. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders, then glanced towards Aunt Amel’s feet with big eyes as if to say, Your job is way worse.

  ‘Akeal, where are you? Hurry up, please – I need to relax! My feeties are waiting.’

  Aunt Amel wriggled her long toes. Thank God she was wearing socks. One was blue with stripes, and the other was green with dots, but I’d rather odd socks than no socks at all. I stepped forward and rubbed my hands together like Huda, to buy myself some time.

  ‘Come on, children, I’m tired! Shopping all day has made me sore!’

  I kneeled beside Aunt Amel, then I reached in and began to knead the balls of her feet. Huda closed her eyes and did the same on Aunt Amel’s head. I could tell my sister was trying to imagine she was somewhere else.

  ‘Too hard, Huda. I want to unwind, not have my scalp squashed!’ Aunt Amel grumbled.

  Huda pulled a face and poked her tongue out at Aunt Amel, who still had her eyes closed.

  I muffled my laugh with a cough and moved my hands towards Aunt Amel’s toes. This was the worst bit – massaging toes. They felt like talons on a bird’s foot. I squeezed each one quickly then ran my hands down to her heels, hoping for it all to be over.

  It only took a minute for Aunt Amel’s breathing to turn into a long, drawn-out snore. That was when Huda and I pulled away and raced to the bathroom as fast as we could. We both squeezed a tonne of soap into our palms and scrubbed ou
r hands ferociously with hot water, not caring if it burned us.

  Huda flicked the water from her fingers and sighed. ‘Might as well finish wiping the bathroom down since we’re here,’ she said, pulling the disinfectant spray and cloth from the cupboard below the sink. She sprayed the shower screen and began to wipe it clean. We’d already scrubbed the bathroom this morning, but Aunt Amel always inspected our work, and it was never good enough – no matter what the job.

  I can see streak marks on the mirror.

  I can still see dust.

  You haven’t rolled the socks into a ball properly.

  You need to organise all the cups in order of colour and size.

  I didn’t get it. Aunt Amel was a grub. Her scarves were always ripped and discoloured. Her clothes had stains on them. She wore odd socks. She always missed when she threw something in the bin, and never bothered to pick it up.

  Huda finished wiping over the shower screen while I replaced the empty toilet roll.

  ‘Right. I’m going to tell him now.’

  My sister dropped the spray and hopped onto the lid of the toilet. She yanked open the small bathroom window. Huda’s small, but I wasn’t sure she was that small. I was even less sure whether it was a good idea to go to Mr Kostiki’s house in the middle of the night.

  ‘He might be asleep,’ I said nervously. ‘Just try tomorrow.’

  ‘You know she doesn’t let us out of her sight. It’s now or never. Cover for me.’

  My sister hoisted herself up to the tiny window and managed to slither through. I heard her fall onto the ground below with an oomph, then scramble across the front yard.

  I jumped onto the toilet seat to see whether she’d reached Mr Kostiki’s house just in time to glimpse her shoeless feet dash past his letterbox. A moment later, there was banging on Mr Kostiki’s front door. Nothing. She banged again, then I heard talking: Huda’s high-pitched voice and Mr Kostiki’s accent. I couldn’t make out the words, so I pushed my head up closer to the open window.

  ‘Birdwatching at night, are we, Akoolie?’ came Aunt Amel’s voice, right in my ear. I almost fell off the toilet seat in shock. ‘And what have you seen, hmmm?’