Huda and Me Page 9

  I think she’s trying to say that someone will have to walk us out to meet our parents.

  Miss Rosetta narrows her eyes and presses her lips together. She points to some seats beside her. ‘Sit here and wait,’ she snaps. Then she looks up and smiles her fake smile at the people behind us. ‘Thank you for flying with us. We hope to see you again soon.’

  The passengers move past us, someone grumbling something about annoying kids.

  Huda tugs hard at my sleeve. ‘What do we do? We’ll be sent back.’

  ‘Like I said, we need to make a run for it,’ I whisper into my sister’s ear.

  Before either of us can think twice, I charge at the door. Huda charges behind me, screaming like she’s going into battle.

  Miss Rosetta stops fake smiling and flings her back against the wall of the plane. Her arms fly up, like she’s about to be arrested on one of those cop shows. Her mouth dangles open in shock.

  My sister’s screaming gets even louder as we bolt past her. I’m just grateful she doesn’t try to block our path. I hear the beep and static of a walkie-talkie behind us. And then I hear Miss Rosetta screech into it.

  ‘CODE RED. TWO UNACCOMPANIED MINORS HAVE ESCAPED.’

  We thunder through the corridor like a couple of elephants who’ve escaped from the zoo. The sound of running footsteps echoes behind us, but we make it to the end of the tunnel just as glass doors slide open.

  I brace myself, like when I’m taking my final big breath before jumping into a pool. We leap through the open door and into the airport. It’s as if we’ve been sucked into a massive wave and spat out into an ocean full of humans. I grab Huda’s hand as people shove and push and rush around us. I can barely see my sister, but our outstretched hands cling to each other. The air smells thick, not like Melbourne. Body odour shoots through my nose. The noise from the overhead speakers, buzzers beeping in the background and people talking all around me makes my head spin. I can’t make out a word, but I know it’s not English.

  I grip my sister’s hand harder. As hard as I can. But then it happens. The swarms of people are just too much. I feel my sweaty palm begin to slip.

  ‘Akeal! Akeal!’ Huda screams. I feel her fingers slide through my hand.

  ‘Don’t let go! Please, Akeal!’ Even through all the noise, I can hear the desperate crackle in her voice.

  But I can’t call back to her. Because my hand has already lost hers.

  I try to fight back through the crowd, to get back to my sister, but it’s like I’m trying to swim in quicksand. The crowd of people has its own plan. I don’t know where to go or even which direction will get me out, so I let it swallow me. I let the people push me and shove me until eventually they spit me out, somewhere on the other side.

  I collapse on a nearby bench and put my head in my hands. I close my eyes and make a dua.

  ‘Please, Allah, please. Don’t let anything bad happen to Huda. I know she’s annoying, I know she does irritating stuff, but she’ll be better when she grows up a bit. Please, Allah. Please let me find her. Please keep her safe.’

  I want to stay strong, but I realise I’m alone too. I squeeze my eyes tight to try to stop the tears.

  A voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘Akeal?’ I know it’s Michael from the way he says my name.

  I open my eyes and wipe my face with the back of my hand.

  ‘You okay, man?’

  I swallow hard. ‘I lost my little sister.’

  Michael’s eyes dart around a bit and he scratches his head.

  ‘We tried so hard to get to Mum and Dad. I tried to look after her, but the crowd was too big.’ My throat hurts when I speak.

  Michael doesn’t say anything. He just stands there. I have nothing to say either. I get up and begin to walk away.

  ‘Isn’t that her over there?’ Michael points – past the glass doors we hurtled through earlier, past a crowd of people. Huda’s bawling, her back to a wall.

  I scream my sister’s name at the top of my lungs and race towards her. She sees me and stops crying. I move my legs as fast as they can carry me, my only focus getting to my sister. I don’t notice the small suitcase lying on the floor. The suitcase that someone left in my way.

  My right foot strikes it and I fly into the air. With my backpack still on, I feel like I weigh a hundred kilos as I crash to the ground. My wrist twists beneath the weight of my body, and my head cracks onto the tiled floor. But I don’t have time to feel the pain or care about the blood dripping from my forehead – I have to get up and get to Huda. I use the back of my hand to wipe the blood away and feel it smear across my face.

  Huda runs over to me and I grip onto her to help me off the floor. She looks at my head and winces.

  ‘It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. I’m all right,’ I tell her, even though sharp stabbing pains shoot through my skull.

  ‘I thought I’d be lost forever, Akeal.’ Her words come out in hiccups.

  ‘You know I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll always look after you.’ Some blood drips down my head and onto my jumper.

  Huda sniffs and nods. ‘Here, wipe your head.’ She unzips her bag and pulls out a bunch of serviettes with Dubai written on them. Then she glances over my shoulder and it’s like she’s seen a ghost. My sister lifts her arms to head to protect herself. I turn, ready to leap. It’s Michael, standing behind me. He has his palms in the air.

  ‘I’m … I’m not gonna hurt you.’

  Huda lowers her eyes to the floor and keeps her arms over her head.

  ‘I’m really sorry about what I did to you before.’

  My sister doesn’t look at him.

  I step forward towards Michael to shield her. He gasps when he sees the gash on my forehead, but I don’t let it stop me.

  ‘She’s raw. You can’t blame her.’

  Michael bites his lip and nods. ‘I get it. I know she must be scared of me. But I am sorry.’

  This time I nod. ‘It’s a start, I suppose.’

  I wipe away the blood with one of the thick serviettes. The swarm of passengers begins to break and I catch a glimpse of Miss Rosetta only metres away. A security guard stands with her, scanning the area for us. I grab my sister’s hand.

  ‘Run!’

  Miss Rosetta spots us and shouts to her sidekick. ‘Over there! Grab them!’ she calls, pointing and running towards us as we flee. Luckily there are still a bunch of people around, blocking her path.

  I pull Huda behind two rubbish bins.

  ‘They’re gonna find us,’ she pants.

  Miss Rosetta and her guard reach the spot where we were just standing. ‘Where’d they go?’ Miss Rosetta screams at Michael.

  Michael glances at us, hiding behind the bins. ‘They ran that way!’ he says, pointing in the opposite direction.

  Miss Rosetta and the security guard scuttle away.

  ‘They said something about jumping out of the bathroom windows!’ he calls out after them. He looks at me and smiles.

  ‘Well, who would’ve thought …’ mutters my sister.

  ‘C’mon,’ I say. ‘We have to get through the big queues before they come back.’

  Time to Leave

  The sun was rising as I started scooping the chicken poo. A flash lit up the backyard and I glanced at the sky. It was filled with grey clouds, and little drops of rain began to fall.

  I saw the lights on at Mr Kostiki’s house and the smoke from his chimney. The few times I’d been over to his place, it had been so warm and cosy. He’d let us play with his medals and his cool old-fashioned polaroid camera. But he never let us take any photos, because he said the film was too expensive. One time, he’d offered us Krakus ham sandwiches. Me and Huda had looked at each other, hoping the other one would tell him. It was Huda who finally did.

  ‘Thank you very much, Mr Kostiki. We don’t eat porky things.’

  I was worried Mr Kostiki would be grumpy because he’d spent ages in the kitchen making them, but instead he shook his head.

  ‘
Of course you don’t. My apologies. How about peanut butter instead?’

  That was when I really started liking Mr Kostiki, but he still scares me just a little.

  I put the shovel down and dragged the bins to the road ready for rubbish collection. They smelled even worse than they had the day before. Another flash lit up the yard and rain pelted down hard. I raced for the front verandah, almost slipping on wet mud. Another flash of light. As I climbed the steps, I heard a rattle behind one of Mum’s big pot plants by the front door.

  ‘Oi,’ Huda hissed.

  I looked around, making sure Aunt Amel wasn’t watching. She still wasn’t letting any of us talk to Huda, not since the phone incident. She said it was one thing for Huda to run through the night to Mr Kostiki’s house, but another entirely to ruin everyone’s holiday by ‘reporting mistruths’. None of us had laid eyes on Dad’s phone again since.

  I darted over to my sister and squatted beside her as the rain poured down.

  ‘I booked the tickets,’ she whispered. ‘The plane takes off in three hours.’

  ‘Are you serious! Was it complicated? Did you have any trouble?’

  ‘Nah, piece of piss.’

  ‘That’s disgusting, Huda.’

  ‘Was easy as a chimpanzee.’

  ‘Okay, well that doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘So, what do I pack?’

  ‘Only what you need. Your school backpack – that’s small enough to carry on the plane, so we won’t have to check our luggage in. That means no toys or games or dolls. Got it? Only the important stuff, like the passports, tickets and a change of clothes.’

  ‘What about my jewellery box?’

  ‘Just make sure you’re ready to go in twenty minutes. Meet me by the letterbox.’

  ‘No problem,’ said my sister. She sprang up from behind the pot plant and dived towards the wall of the house, pressing her back against it. She flicked her head about to check if the coast was clear and then snuck through the front door like a cat burglar.

  I raced inside too, passing the twins in the kitchen, who were already starting on their second batch of choc-chip cookies for the day. I ran straight to my room and slammed the door shut. I grabbed my bag off the floor and shoved in a jacket, a change of undies and some socks. All the money in the bottom of my backpack would keep us going if we needed anything else along the way. Then I heard a sniffle.

  ‘Seems rather odd to be packing clothes into your schoolbag, doesn’t it, Akeal?’ It was Aunt Amel. She was standing against the wall by the door.

  My blood turned to ice.

  ‘Yeh, I have sports class today. My P.E. teacher tells us to bring a change of clothes.’ I could feel my breath quickening but reminded myself to stay calm.

  ‘Huh, is that so?’

  ‘Yep.’ I controlled the sound of my voice, so it didn’t tremble, then I quickly zipped up my bag and looked her straight in the eye.

  Aunt Amel stepped over to my desk and ran her finger along my class timetable sticky taped to the wall. ‘Let’s just have a looksie, shall we? Friday … Friday … does little Akealie have sports class on Friday?’

  My mind went blank. I hadn’t even been thinking about school and what classes I had on when I’d lied to her.

  She skimmed across Friday’s lessons, tapping each one with her peacock-blue fingernails. ‘Double English, maths, Italian class and …’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sport.’

  ‘We have athletics carnival coming up, so we gotta train.’ I didn’t look at her while I spoke this time, in case she could read my thoughts.

  Aunt Amel tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. ‘You know, Akoolie, I can’t help but feel that you and your little sister are up to something.’

  Little beads of sweat began to tickle my forehead. ‘We’re just working hard to keep the house tidy for you, that’s all. I’d better get back to my jobs now, so I can finish in time for school.’ I glanced at the door, to give her the hint.

  Amel Amel grinned at me. ‘I will find out, you know. I always find out.’ She glided to the door, then peered over her shoulder at me one more time. ‘Always.’ She slammed the door behind her.

  I felt like collapsing onto my rug, but instead I quickly dressed myself in a singlet, polo-shirt and jumper. I’d wear my school trackies to the airport – no one would notice. I pressed my ear to the door for a moment, to listen for Aunt Amel, then grabbed a pen and paper from my desk. I scrawled a note, scrunched it up, and held it tightly in my fist. Then I slipped my bag onto my back and walked out of my bedroom.

  Aunt Amel was nowhere to be seen. I passed Omar in the kitchen, his eyes ringed with dark circles, his skin looking almost yellow. As my older brother yawned, I shoved the note into his hand. If we don’t come home after school, don’t worry – and cover for us.

  Huda had insisted we tell the others nothing, in case they tried to stop us, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave them all without so much as a note goodbye.

  I didn’t wait for Omar to react or look at the note. I bolted out the front door and onto the street, where Huda was waiting for me, her head half in our letterbox.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I whispered.

  ‘Just checking if Mum and Dad sent us a postcard.’

  The air was cold and I could see just how quickly she was breathing from the white smoky clouds that shot out of her mouth, but at least the lightning and rain had stopped.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Nup.’

  My sister scratched her cheek and I noticed she was wearing my blue mittens I’d bought from the market.

  ‘Hey! Where’d you get those from?’ I said, pointing at my mitts.

  ‘I found them.’ She paused. ‘In Mum and Dad’s room.’ She knew I knew she was lying. ‘Get over it,’ she squealed. ‘We’re about to go see Mum and Dad.’

  I rolled my eyes. Typical Huda move.

  ‘I printed off the tickets at the library yesterday,’ she continued. ‘They’re in my bag. I chucked Aunt Amel’s credit card in the recycle bin at school to get rid of it. You have the cash, right?’

  I gave her a thumbs up.

  ‘Cool. We’re good to go.’ She grabbed my thumb, squashed it and then shook it around.

  I ripped my arm away from her and glanced at my watch: 8:05 a.m. We were still okay for time. My stomach felt tight.

  ‘Let’s run to the shops and get a taxi from the taxi rank near the hairdresser,’ I said and started to jog.

  ‘That’s smart, Akeal. I always knew you were smart.’

  We raced up the street, in the opposite direction to school. I checked over my shoulder in case Aunt Amel had followed us. There was no one around but an early-morning dog-walker. If it was any other day, I would’ve wet my undies thinking we’d be caught and reported to the principal, but today I needed to leave Aunt Amel behind.

  We got to the taxi rank just as one taxi drove off and another arrived. I waved to the driver so he’d know we were his next customers. He stared at me and my sister, then looked around to see if there was anyone else with us.

  ‘Act casual,’ I whispered to Huda from the side of my mouth as I took a step towards the car. I opened the passenger door.

  ‘Hi there, mister. We need to get to the airport.’

  The taxi driver didn’t say anything. He just looked at me. He was wearing a turban on his head and had a couple of silver bangles on his wrist.

  ‘Sorry, mister, I said—’

  ‘I heard what you said, kid. I’m not taking two children to the airport without an adult.’

  I wasn’t expecting him to say no to us. ‘But …’ I stuttered uselessly.

  Huda then shoved me to the side and poked her head into the passenger door. ‘You’re gonna be in a lot of trouble if you don’t, mister.’

  The taxi driver shook his head at my sister.

  ‘Our parents and luggage are in that taxi on the way to the international airport.’

  She jabbed her finger towards the taxi turning out f
rom the shopping centre and onto the main road.

  ‘You better make it quick so we don’t lose them. They said the next driver would follow them. If you leave us here, we’re gonna call the cops.’

  The taxi driver’s eyes widened. Even though his skin was brown like ours, I could tell his cheeks were going red.

  I pinched my sister in the rib and tilted my head to say, Let’s get out of here. She didn’t look at me, though. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

  ‘All right, get in. But I’m going to charge you for the last two minutes as well.’ He muttered something about us wasting his time.

  Huda slammed the passenger door shut. ‘Get in before he changes his mind,’ she hissed from the side of her mouth.

  I opened the back door and Huda climbed in, threw her bag on the floor and slid down the seats to make room for me. I jumped in and we both clicked our seatbelts in at the same time. The taxi driver hit the accelerator.

  ‘So, how’s your day been so far, mister?’ Huda asked him, sounding casual and like they’d been mates for years. She winked at me.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Not very busy?’ she asked, tilting her head and frowning, as though she was seriously concerned about how his job was going.

  He was looking at her in the rear-view mirror now. ‘No.’

  ‘Pick up anyone interesting today?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, mister. I’ll let you concentrate on your driving. My dad says it’s annoying when I talk to him too much when he’s driving.’

  ‘Yes. It is,’ said the driver, spinning the wheel as we turned the corner onto the main highway.

  Habib

  We double-check no one’s on our tail and head to an area where we can see long lines of passengers queuing. At the beginning of each line is a person in a light-brown uniform sitting at a little brown desk. There’s a big sign above it all that says: PASSPORT CONTROL.

  Each desk has a few stamps on it, a couple of pens and a computer, and each of the officers wears a serious frown, as they check papers and passports. I wonder if they’re specially trained on how to look so serious when they first get the job. Once each passenger’s passport is stamped, they’re allowed to walk through to the other side to get their luggage. Then to freedom.