by Sabina Khan
“The thing is, Tyler’s just one guy. He happened to be the one stupid enough to get caught. But he’s got friends, you know. And I’m pretty sure they all feel exactly the same way. What if they come after me next?”
“Zara, if you don’t feel safe at school, please tell me. I can pull you out. There are other schools.”
“Abbu, I don’t want to change schools now. My college applications are due in a few months. Plus, I don’t see why I have to leave my friends and teachers just because Tyler and his friends are racist morons.”
“But isn’t your safety and peace of mind more important?”
“It is, Abbu,” I say placatingly because I know he’ll worry about me all day now. “But I’ll be fine. I’m just spinning.” I slide off the stool and put my arms around him. He holds on to me for a few extra seconds before letting go.
“Maybe don’t tell Ammi any of this?” he says before opening the fridge and studying its contents.
I agree. At least one of us can be spared the nightmares.
School is hell that day.
Nick and Priya are waiting for me at the front entrance when I get there, but they can’t be with me every second of the day. I dodge dirty looks everywhere I go. I’m public enemy number one with some people because I dared to speak up against a racist, hate-mongering football player and got him suspended. Now our school’s three-year winning streak will be ruined because its star football player actually has to face some consequences. I’m almost positive that even Mr. Gibbons, our AP Calc teacher, hates me. He usually loves it when I ask questions in class but not today.
Thankfully, Nick and Priya stick close to me as much as they can.
“Jada saw Alyssa walk into the principal’s office yesterday,” Priya says in a low voice when we’re by our lockers between classes.
“Wait … didn’t she go out with Tyler last year?” I look around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. People have been gawking at me all day, and I don’t want any more trouble.
“Yes, but I heard they had a pretty nasty breakup,” Priya replies.
“Do you think it was her?” I ask. “Mr. Trevino didn’t go into any details.”
“I mean, yeah. Unless it was a pure coincidence.”
Nick walks up just as the bell rings.
“Have you heard anything?” I say.
“About Tyler?” he says. “Hell yeah, that’s all anyone’s been talking about. I’ve never seen Coach so pissed.”
“Did they say anything about who ratted Tyler out?” Priya asks.
“Yeah, something about the hoodie he was wearing in the camera footage,” Nick says. “Apparently one of his ex-girlfriends bought it for him at a concert.”
Priya’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, I knew it,” she says triumphantly. She lowers her voice. “It was Alyssa. Good for her.”
“And for me,” I say wryly. “I mean, I hate the way everyone’s looking at me, but it was worth it.”
But by fourth period, I’ve had enough. I hurry to the washroom before the tears start falling in front of the whole class. I hide in one of the stalls and let it all out until I realize I’m going to be late. I step out and splash cold water on my face. Alyssa walks in just as I’m drying my hands and I freeze. We have history because she used to be really mean to Nick in fourth grade. I brace myself for something mean to come out of her mouth.
“Hey,” she says. “How’re you holding up?”
She looks into the mirror and dabs pink gloss on her lips while I try to form words. What do you say to someone you’ve never liked when they’re being nice? Everything I think of sounds fake in my head.
“I’m okay,” I finally say. “Thanks for asking.”
She shrugs. “Tyler’s a jerk. It’s about time he got what he deserves.”
I turn to face her. “So you were the one who—”
She interrupts me. “Listen,” she says, “don’t let it all get to you.” Then she turns on her heel and leaves.
* * *
Between sixth and seventh period, I pass Maria in the hall.
She’s in the middle of a conversation with two other girls, and I’m happy because they definitely look like they have her back. She sees me, and for a second, I think she’s going to stop to talk to me. But instead, she meets my eye and nods.
I nod back and understand: She has her own choices to make.
And, either way, we’re both grateful Tyler isn’t around right now.
* * *
Later that night, I’m standing in front of the refrigerator, when Abbu wanders into the kitchen.
“Rough day at school, was it?” He smiles and ruffles my hair on his way to the pantry. He rummages in there and emerges with a pack of bhelpuri mix.
My eyes light up, and I grab a half-cut red onion, a jalapeño, a tomato, and a bunch of cilantro from the refrigerator. Abbu wordlessly hands me a large bowl, and I pour in the bhelpuri mix and cut open the little sauce packets that come with it. When Abbu’s done chopping the tomato, onion, and cilantro, he adds it all to the bowl. I grab a lemon, cut off a wedge, and squeeze the juice into the bowl. Abbu covers the bowl with a plastic lid and shakes it hard. In the meantime, I take out two small bowls and spoons, and then we’re munching on my favorite snack of all time. The crispy chickpea noodles and puffed rice combined with the tang of tamarind sauce and the bite of jalapeño are a perfect complement to the freshness of the tomato and cilantro. We eat together in silence as we often do when we’re troubled. I know Abbu is a lot more concerned than he’s letting on.
“Beta, are you okay?” he asks after we’ve finished almost half the bowl. “Do you feel safe to go back?”
“I don’t think he’s stupid enough to try anything now that he’s been caught once.”
“Are you sure about that?” Abbu says. “Because I can call the principal and talk to him.”
“No, no, there’s no need for that, Abbu,” I say hastily. “Tyler knows if he does anything else, he’ll get kicked off the football team for good, if not expelled.”
I know Tyler’s stupid but not so much that he’ll risk his chance of getting a football scholarship. He must know that’s his only chance of getting into any college.
“Okay,” Abbu says. “But promise me that you’ll let me know if you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable.”
I nod as he grabs both our bowls and gets off the stool. He bends to kiss the top of my head.
“I love you. Please be careful, beta.” He puts the bowls in the sink and starts to walk away.
“I love you too, Abbu,” I call out to him softly as he disappears up the stairs.
* * *
A loud bang wakes me up. I bolt upright, and for a second, I’m disoriented. I hear Zorro barking somewhere and grab my phone off the nightstand. It’s two in the morning. I trudge downstairs, wondering if the noise was just in my dream. But then I hear footsteps outside our front door and the fog clears. I’m wide awake now. Ammi comes down the stairs behind me, her hair ruffled and eyes squinting against the hallway light. The door is slightly ajar, and Zorro is just inside, barking intermittently. I quickly pick him up and put him into the enclosure off the kitchen and go back to the front. I’m about to go outside, but Abbu is in the doorway now, shooing me back. He’s holding the cricket bat he always keeps under his bed in case of intruders.
“Abbu, are you okay? What happened?”
“Just stay inside.”
Ammi is right beside me, but Abbu motions for her to stay where she is.
“Both of you, please don’t come out.”
“Iqbal, what is going on?” Ammi pushes past me, and I follow on her heels out the door.
“Nilufer, I told you—”
He stops because Ammi has turned white as a ghost.
“Hai Allah! Who did this?” She has her hands on her head, mouth open, staring at our house.
I follow her eyes and freeze.
On the walls, beneath my bedroom window, the words GO HOME TERROR
ISTS have been spray-painted in bright red, dripping like blood on the garage door.
Abbu tries to usher us back inside, but we’re rooted to the spot.
“Chalo. Let’s go inside.” Abbu gives us a gentle shove to get us moving. We shuffle in, still in shock. Abbu takes one last look outside before he shuts the front door, locks it, and slides the bolt in.
“Should we call the police?” I ask, but Abbu’s already shaking his head before I finish.
“They can’t do anything.” He releases his hold on the cricket bat, and it falls to the floor with a loud clatter. The sound reverberates through the living room, and I get goose bumps all up and down my arms.
“Did you see who it was?” Ammi is sitting next to him, arms wrapped around herself. They both look as scared as I am.
“It was that boy, Tyler. And some of his friends, I guess.”
“What? Are you sure?”
He nods. “I recognize him from our meeting at school. I am absolutely sure it was him. And he could tell too. That’s why he ran. Bloody coward.”
Chills run through me. When I was worrying about backlash, I never thought Tyler would bring the fight to my home.
“Abbu, are you sure we shouldn’t call the cops?”
“Zara, what’s the point? There are no cameras, there is no proof.”
He’s right, I know it. But I want to do something. Abbu puts his head in his hands and stares down at the carpet.
“Abbu, I’ll—”
Abbu stands abruptly. “I’m going to go to his house and talk to his father,” he announces.
“Now? Iqbal, what are you saying?” Ammi says. “How can you go to someone’s house at this time of the night?”
“Nilufer, they came to our home. Who cares what time it is?” Abbu glares at Ammi, and I know this is not good.
“Look, Abbu,” I say pleadingly, rubbing his arm. “Why don’t we just wait a few more hours? We’ll all go. Maybe then his parents will take it more seriously.”
“You think I’m going to wait and give that hooligan time to think of an excuse?” His eyes flash with anger. “He knows I recognized him, and I can guarantee that right now he and his father are thinking of some good lie.”
“Abbu, please, this is not a good idea. What if he calls the cops on you?”
“Let him do that,” Abbu says. “I’m not going to sit quietly while these idiots deface our home. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
I don’t know how else to stop Abbu. I watch helplessly as he gets his car keys and walks out the door.
“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Ammi says, shaking her head.
Neither have I. Abbu is usually such a mild-mannered person, but this is far from a normal situation. What if he hadn’t heard them when he did? What else were they planning to do? We have a right to feel safe in our own home.
Tyler and his friends have taken that from us tonight.
“Ammi, try not to worry too much,” I say. “You know how Abbu is. He’ll probably just tell Tyler’s dad what happened, and Tyler will get in trouble with his parents.”
“Yes, beta, let’s hope he comes back soon. If he’s not home in half an hour, let’s call him and make sure everything’s okay.”
I go into the kitchen to make some chai. There’s no way we’ll go back to sleep tonight, and I need to keep myself busy until Abbu’s back.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, I’m on the verge of freaking out but trying to stay cool for Ammi’s sake. Abbu’s not answering his phone, and I’m very close to calling the cops. I go up to my room to clear my head and decide what I should do. I call Abbu’s cell phone and leave several messages, each one more urgent than the last. Fifteen minutes later, I’m in full panic mode. I’m going to call the cops. But then the phone rings, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It has to be Abbu. I run to answer, but the voice at the other end doesn’t belong to him.
It’s Priya’s dad, Dr. Nair.
“Hi, Uncle Rakesh, is everything all right?” I say.
“Zara, beta, where is your mother?” he says. I can hear noises in the background that sound like announcements. He must be calling from the hospital. He and Abbu both work at Spohn South.
“She’s here, but … actually we’re worried about Abbu—”
“That’s why I’m calling, beta. You and your mom need to come down here as soon as possible. Your father’s been shot.”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
“It’s your father,” Dr. Nair says. “He was brought in a little while ago—”
I can hear Priya’s father being paged.
“I’m sorry, I have to go now,” he says hastily. “But you and your mom should come immediately.”
He hangs up, and I’m unable to move. Many different scenarios play out in my head, none of them good. I snap out of it when I hear Ammi calling me.
“Zara, kaun tha?”
“It was Uncle Rakesh.”
“So late?” Ammi calls up from the living room. “Is everything all right at home?”
I run down the stairs and find her sitting on the love seat, a cup of tea keeping her hands warm.
“Ammi, we have to go,” I say. I’m still in a daze, so my brain doesn’t register Ammi’s panicked expression at first.
“Where? To their house? Is it Gita? Or Priya?”
I shake my head. “No, Ammi, we have to go to the hospital. It’s Abbu.”
She looks at me blankly at first, then comprehension dawns.
“I knew something like this would happen.” She jumps up and walks over to the credenza to grab her car keys. “I’m always telling him not to drive when he’s upset. Now he’s got into an accident, hai na?”
I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth and she’s already standing at the door, so I quickly put on my shoes and follow her out to the car. As she drives us to Spohn South, it occurs to me that Corpus Christi’s one saving grace is that no place is too far. It feels like only seconds have passed and we’re there. We park close to the entrance and rush through the sliding doors into the sterile interior of the emergency room. Uncle Rakesh is waiting for us.
“Rakesh Bhai, how is Iqbal? What happened?” Ammi pounces as soon as she sees him. I’m right behind her.
Uncle Rakesh steps forward and explains to us everything he knows—that Abbu was shot in someone’s front yard. The police were called, and they in turn sent for the ambulance. Abbu is now in surgery. Uncle Rakesh says he’s being taken care of by a doctor whose name I don’t recognize, but from the way Uncle Rakesh says his name, I can tell he’s a good doctor to have.
As Uncle Rakesh finishes telling us everything he knows, two uniformed police officers come up to us.
“Are you Mrs. Hossain?” the officer asks.
Ammi nods. “Yes, but—”
“I’m Officer Hernandez,” the officer says, and then points to her colleague. “And this is Officer Nolte. We need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind?”
“Yes, of course,” Ammi says, “but can I see my husband first?”
I move closer to Ammi, my heart pounding in my throat.
“You can’t see him while he’s in surgery,” Uncle Rakesh says gently. “They said they would come tell me as soon as he’s out, and I’ll go check myself in a moment.”
“We’ll try to make this as quick as possible,” Officer Nolte says. “Can you tell us everything that happened tonight?”
“We were sleeping, and then there was a very loud noise,” Ammi tells them. “My husband went down to check it out and saw some boys running away.”
“They vandalized our house,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. I recount the rest of the events to them, right up until Abbu left for Tyler’s house.
“And this is a Mr. Alan Benson’s house you’re referring to?” Officer Hernandez says.
“Yes, the boy my father recognized is Tyler Benson. I’ve had trouble with him at school.”
I tell t
hem about my locker and Tyler’s suspension.
“It was payback,” I say. “He’s angry because he can’t play football anymore.”
The officers take copious notes while I talk.
“Are we done now?” Ammi says. “I really need to know if my husband’s all right.”
“Ma’am, we were called to the scene of the shooting,” Officer Nolte says.
Ammi’s face turns white, and she’s squeezing my hand really hard.
Uncle Rakesh moves in to comfort her. “Bhabiji,” he says, “Iqbal is in good hands. They assured me that it is all under control. He should be out soon.”
“Why was he shot? Who shot him?” Ammi asks the police, her voice weak. Her forehead is dotted with beads of perspiration, and her skin feels clammy to me.
“We are still investigating the incident,” Officer Nolte replies. “What you’ve told us is very helpful.”
Officer Hernandez takes out three business cards and gives them to me, Ammi, and Uncle Rakesh. “This is how to reach me. Don’t hesitate to call. I promise you, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
The officers go away then, leaving us to talk to Uncle Rakesh.
“Rakesh, what happened?” Ammi’s voice is shaky, and I tighten my grip on her.
“We’ll find out,” Uncle Rakesh says. “Please try not to worry too much. He’s in the best hands, and I will update you as soon as I know more. I’ve called Gita, and she’ll be here any minute. I’ll be back soon after I check on Iqbal.”
Ammi clasps his hands with both of hers. “Thank you, Rakesh.”
Ammi is completely still after he leaves, and I’m at a loss for words. This all feels surreal, like a nightmare, and I want desperately to wake up.
“Ammi,” I finally say, “I can’t believe they shot Abbu. How could they do that?”
“I don’t know, beta,” she says. “These people and their guns, nothing is safe anymore.” She turns to me, her eyes full of tears. “What will happen, Zara?”
I feel a tightness in my chest, but my eyes are dry. It’s not sadness or fear I feel at this moment, but a hot rage burning me from the inside. The image of my father standing in front of Tyler and his dad while they callously shoot him is more than I can bear. I try to push it out of my mind and focus on Ammi instead.
