Once Upon an Eid

by S. K. Ali

  “Hey,” he said when I sat down next to him. “Everything okay?”

  I handed him a brownie and picked up my controller.

  “Everything is great.” I smiled.

  And it was.

  Kareem wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. Mr. Johnson’s unruly lawn was tamed at last.

  At the end of winter, Kareem had outgrown his old bike. He was already as tall as his dad! To save up for a Super Speedster X (and a matching helmet, if he made enough money), he’d been doing odd jobs all Ramadan: watering Mr. Khan’s plants while he traveled to visit his son in Pakistan, buying groceries for Ms. Donaldson while she recovered from a broken leg, and washing Mr. Adler’s muddy car after he drove up to the mountains for a hiking trip. But this last job had been the hardest, especially while fasting.

  “Here’s your ten dollars,” Mr. Johnson said. “My wife’s going to be thrilled when she sees this. I haven’t mowed this beast in three months!”

  “Thanks, Mr. Johnson!” Kareem said, sliding the bill into his pocket. “Call me if you have any other chores that need doing!”

  Just as Kareem arrived home, his dad called from the kitchen, “Iftaar time!”

  Kareem was starving. He nearly dove headfirst into the lentil soup, koshari, and roasted chicken his mom had cooked for their evening meal. Breaking his fast had never felt so good!

  “Uhh, can you please take two seconds to say bismillah before stuffing your face?” Mom said.

  “Oops,” Kareem said with stuffed chipmunk cheeks. “Bismillah.”

  Kareem noticed Dad tapping his pencil against a notepad full of illegible scribbles.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?” Kareem asked. “You seem distracted.”

  Dad sighed. “I have designer’s block . . . It’s like writer’s block, except for graphic designers. I just can’t figure out what angle to take for this company’s advertising campaign. My pitch is on Monday.”

  “What do you have so far?” Kareem asked.

  Dad cleared his throat. “OutStride Biking Equipment Limited: Everything you need for a great ride.”

  “Dad, that’s so basic,” said Kareem.

  “I know,” groaned Dad. “Okay, brainstorm with me. What’s the first word that comes to mind when I say biking?”

  “Athletes! Races! Olympics!” Kareem said.

  “The Olympics . . . That could actually work!” Dad furiously scribbled something onto his notepad.

  “So, Kareem, I ran into Kim from across the hall today,” Mom said, casually changing the subject. “Her son, Shawn, is starting a paper route tomorrow morning.”

  Oh no. Kareem could see the wheels turning in Mom’s head. She’d been trying to get him to hang out with Shawn for two weeks just because he was the new kid in class. Shawn seemed nice enough in school, but Kareem already had friends.

  “I volunteered your services.” Mom tucked her hair behind her ears. “Shawn still doesn’t know the neighborhood that well. You can show him all the shortcuts on his first day.”

  Kareem groaned. “But why? It’s not my paper route! I’ve been doing so many chores for bike money. All I want to do is sleep in tomorrow.”

  “I know,” said Mom, “but it’s the considerate thing to do, and it’s just for one morning.”

  Kareem could tell from the determined look on Mom’s face that she wouldn’t let this go.

  “Fiiine.”

  Kareem’s mom nudged him awake at 5:00 a.m.

  “Time for suhoor,” she whispered. “And you’re meeting Shawn in half an hour.”

  Kareem rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. God, I’d better get a pile of good deed credits for this.

  At the kitchen table, Kareem inhaled fuul, pita bread, and yogurt before the call to Fajr prayer. A big stack of letters sat on the counter.

  “Kareem, something came for you in the mail yesterday. I think it’s from Teta,” said Mom.

  Kareem’s grandma was the best. She only visited once a year, but she was always sending him funny cards, old photos, and newspaper clippings that made her laugh. He ripped the envelope open and pulled out a purple Eid greeting card. Two crisp green twenty-dollar bills slipped out and fluttered to the ground.

  “Forty dollars?!” shouted Kareem, setting the card down. “Do you know what this means? No more chores! I can finally buy my bike!” He jumped around the room as though he were bouncing on a giant trampoline.

  Mom opened the card and read Teta’s message out loud:

  Dear Kareem,

  Early Eid Mubarak, habibi! Did you know your name means “generous”? Think about doing something generous with this money for Eid, will ya?

  Love, Teta

  Kareem stopped. “Wait, what does that mean?”

  “Well, lots of people won’t have an elaborate Eid celebration like we will,” Mom said. “Maybe that money can bring some happiness to another family.”

  Kareem crossed his arms and stood quietly for a moment. I’ve been working so hard for a new bike. I deserve this money more than anyone.

  “Anyway.” Mom shrugged. “Teta sent the money to you, so you decide for yourself.”

  “I’ve decided to generously buy myself the best Eid gift ever!” Kareem did a perfect cartwheel, crammed the bills into his pocket, and twirled out the door.

  “So, your mom forced you to come on my paper route with me, eh?” Shawn smirked as he unlocked his bike outside their building. His oversized Montreal Canadiens baseball hat covered most of his forehead.

  “Yeah, kinda. I was already awake for suhoor, though,” Kareem said. “That’s the meal we eat before we start fasting.”

  “Cool. Well, thanks for coming anyway,” said Shawn.

  “No problem,” Kareem grunted.

  “So, are you a Leafs fan?” Shawn asked. “Because if you are, we can’t be friends.”

  “Nah,” Kareem replied. “Hockey isn’t my thing. But I am a Raptors fan.”

  Shawn chuckled as he stacked what looked like fifty newspapers into his bike basket. “All right, I can deal with that.”

  “Aren’t those heavy?” Kareem asked.

  “Yeah, but I’m used to it. I had a paper route in Montreal before I moved here,” Shawn said. “The basket makes it easier to manage, even if I just push the bike instead of riding today.”

  The dawn light inched up the horizon as Shawn and Kareem made their way through the delivery list. Each time they stopped at a house, Shawn walked a few steps into the front yard and carefully tossed a newspaper onto the porch. Then Kareem impatiently crossed the house off the list. The faster they finished, the faster Kareem could grab the money he’d saved and get to the bike shop.

  Halfway through the route, the boys came up to a house surrounded by a chain-link fence. Two fat recycling bins sat in the middle of the sidewalk. Shawn pushed his bike onto the quiet road and parked it at the curb in front of the bins.

  Newspaper in hand, he walked toward the gate, but he hesitated when he saw a clumsy handwritten note taped to a tiny doghouse on the lawn: “Beware of Dog!”

  Just as Shawn’s hand touched the edge of the fence, a Chihuahua lunged out of the doghouse and yipped so loudly that both Shawn and Kareem jumped backward. They collided with each other, then, like dominoes, knocked down the recycling bins and Shawn’s bike.

  “Ahh!” yelled Kareem. “Stupid dog! How could such a loud sound come out of such a tiny body?”

  “Hah! I’ve seen way worse dogs on my other paper routes,” Shawn said, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. “At least this one’s behind a fence! Let’s pick up all this stuff before the owners notice.”

  Kareem righted the bins and collected some of the things that had fallen out of them.

  Crash! Kareem and Shawn whipped their heads around.

  A rusty gray car screeched to a halt right where Shawn’s bike had been. The bike slid across the pavement. An angry balding man threw open his car door.

  “Hey! Get that piece of junk out of the road!”r />
  “You hit my bike!” Shawn yelled. He ran toward the mess of twisted bike parts and scattered newspapers.

  “Blame yourself,” the man retorted, examining the front of his car. “It’s not my fault you left your bike in the middle of the road. You should be glad it didn’t damage my car!”

  Without another word, the man jumped into his car and sped off.

  Shawn lowered himself onto his knees next to his bike. His head hung down as he examined the bent wheel and twisted handlebar.

  “I can’t ride it like this!” he said.

  “I’m so sorry, Shawn . . . Hey, it doesn’t look that bad!” Kareem lied. Aw, man, it looks totally wrecked.

  “Kareem, do you think you could . . .”

  “What?”

  “Do you think you could finish my paper route for me while I wheel the bike home? There are only seven houses left.”

  Kareem froze. How could he ask me to finish his paper route? I shouldn’t even be here at all!

  “Uhh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kareem replied, grasping for an excuse. “I’m probably going to make mistakes. Can’t we just go straight home?”

  “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t finish the route,” Shawn said. He looked around uncertainly. “I guess I can just leave the bike on the sidewalk, and we’ll come get it when we’re done.”

  Shawn quickly collected the remaining newspapers, stuffing them into his messenger bag, and then dragged the damaged bike onto the sidewalk.

  They walked on in silence. The neighborhood was still asleep, and everything was quiet except for the sound of a distant rumbling garbage truck.

  After Shawn delivered the final paper on his route, the boys sprinted back toward the house with the chain-link fence. Like clockwork, the Chihuahua started barking right as they turned the corner and spotted the house.

  But something wasn’t right. The bike was gone!

  They frantically searched behind the recycling bins and between the bushes.

  “We left it right here!” Shawn panted. “Where is it? Do you think someone stole it?”

  Kareem lifted the lids of the recycling bins and peered inside. Oh God, no. This can’t be happening.

  “The bins are empty.” He gulped. “The truck must have come by while we were gone. They probably thought the bike was junk too.”

  Shawn let out a groan and kicked the curb hard. He pulled his baseball cap over his face and sat down next to the empty bins.

  Kareem shoved his hands into his pockets. An uncomfortable sadness tugged at his throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just going to show him some shortcuts, then split!

  “Hey,” Kareem said awkwardly. “Maybe your mom will get you a new bike.”

  “No. She spent all her savings on stuff for the new apartment,” Shawn replied. “My dad won’t help either. He still lives in Montreal and doesn’t like it when I ask him for money.”

  Ugh, what was I thinking? That was such a dumb thing to say.

  The boys trudged home in silence.

  “Let me know what your mom says,” Kareem mumbled as they stepped into the elevator.

  Shawn replied with a low grunt. “’Kay.”

  At home, Kareem threw himself onto his bed and yawned. His whole body felt strangely itchy, and he couldn’t get the image of Shawn out of his head.

  It’s not my fault his bike got thrown away. It was just an accident.

  But every time Kareem tried closing his eyes, all he saw was Shawn sitting on the sidewalk with his baseball cap over his face.

  On Monday morning, just five days before Eid, Kareem clipped his helmet straps shut and rode his new bike to school. Mom had taken him shopping over the weekend. She’d chosen a sparkly Eid banner and gold balloons at Party City, and Kareem had gotten his bike at Canadian Tire. The best part was standing at the store register and finding out that the bike was on sale, so he didn’t even have to use the forty dollars Teta had sent him! Kareem planned to go back to the store after school to buy a new helmet. His old one was scuffed and didn’t match the shiny new bike.

  Just as Kareem had anticipated, the ride to school was as smooth as butter. A cool breeze hit his face and hugged the back of his neck. This is the life.

  “Good morning, class!” Mrs. Waters chirped at the start of first period.

  Halfway through attendance, the door creaked open, and Shawn crept into the room. He quickly slid into the seat right in front of Kareem. Shawn’s shoelaces were undone, and the back of his neck was coated with beads of sweat.

  He must have been running. Is he late because of his paper route? Kareem wondered.

  When the period two bell rang, Mrs. Waters stopped in front of Shawn’s desk. “Shawn, I know you’re still a bit new here, but I expect my students to be on time.”

  Shawn nodded. “Sorry, I’ll try my best to get here earlier.”

  Kareem watched Shawn fiddle with his pencil case as they waited for the math teacher. Kareem poked him.

  “Hey, Shawn!”

  Shawn turned. “Oh, hey, Kareem.”

  “Did you miss the bus?”

  “No. They added five new houses to my paper route. I kinda miscalculated how long it would take to get around without a bike.”

  “Oh, yeah, that must be hard.” Just say it already. You’ll feel better. “I’m sorry. I should have just finished the paper route for you that day.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Shawn shrugged. “I think it was just bad luck. If I leave home half an hour earlier, I can deliver the newspapers and get to school on time.”

  Kareem was shocked. “Half an hour earlier? But you already leave home before sunrise!”

  “It’s temporary,” Shawn replied. “I’m saving for a new bike. I should be able to get one in a few weeks.”

  The math teacher walked in before Kareem could say anything more. What would he have said, anyway? Shawn looked exhausted, and there was nothing Kareem could do about it.

  At the end of the day, Kareem zipped open his backpack in front of his locker. Something purple slipped out of his bag and landed on the ground.

  Teta’s Eid Mubarak card. Is this card haunting me? No, it probably just got stuck in one of my notebooks.

  Kareem opened and reread it: “Did you know your name means ‘generous’?” He angrily shoved the card back into his bag. I know what my name means! But it’s too late now. I’m buying my helmet!

  Kareem got onto his bike and rode until he was in front of Canadian Tire. He ran to the back of the store and scanned the helmets hanging on the racks. He picked one up and admired its sleek black and red stripes. It looked perfect, but it felt heavier than normal.

  Too heavy.

  Helmet in hand, Kareem wandered through the aisles for a while until he reached the sports equipment section and noticed a big red sign that read CLEARANCE.

  Kareem rifled through some of the knickknacks on the shelf, and then he noticed a box pushed all the way to the back. The man on the box was riding a bicycle with a large basket hooked onto the front of it. The basket was full of groceries, a bouquet of flowers, and a tiny dog.

  A shiver ran up Kareem’s spine. He stared at the box for a few seconds. This delivery basket would be perfect for Shawn . . . if he had a bike.

  He stared longingly at the shiny new helmet in one hand and the delivery basket in the other. He could only afford one.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Kareem stood at Shawn’s door at 5:15 the next morning. He was about to knock again when he heard shuffling coming from inside. Shawn swung the door open. His hair was messy, and his eyes looked heavy and tired. He was wearing only one shoe.

  “Uhh . . . hi,” Kareem stammered. “Sorry for knocking so early, but I figured you’d be awake.”

  “Hi,” Shawn replied, stifling a massive yawn. “What’s up?” He bent down to put his other shoe on.

  “You can borrow my bike for your paper route,” Kareem blurted. “I hung a big delivery basket on the front for
the newspapers.”

  Shawn’s mouth hung open. “Wow,” he said slowly. “I mean, that’s really generous of you, but don’t you ride your bike to school?”

  “Yeah. But I planned the whole thing out already,” Kareem said. “You’ll take my bike in the morning for your paper route, then ride it straight to school and lock it up outside. After school, I’ll pick it up and ride it home. Easy.”

  Shawn nodded. “Yeah, but how are you getting to school in the morning?”

  “Bus,” Kareem said. He suppressed a shudder at the word. He hated taking the bus, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Shawn waking up in the dead of night like this.

  On Friday afternoon, Kareem arrived home from school to find Mom hanging up the Eid banner with the phone perched between her shoulder and her ear.

  “Eid is tomorrow!” Mom said, throwing her arms around Kareem and squeezing tight. “Oh, and Teta’s on the phone for you.”

  “Assalamu Alaikum, Teta! Eid Mubarak!” Kareem grinned into the receiver.

  “Walaikumussalaam, Kareem! How’s my favorite grandson?”

  “I’m your only grandson!” He laughed. Teta liked using that joke a lot. “Alhamdulillah, Teta. How are you?”

  They chatted for a while about what they were each going to do for Eid. Then he told her about buying the delivery basket and letting Shawn use his bike for his paper route.

  “I’ve been taking the bus in the morning,” Kareem explained. “It’s annoying and slower than my bike . . . but at least Shawn is always on time for first period now.”

  “Well! I never thought my note would lead you on such an adventure,” Teta said. “The name Kareem suits you.”

  “Thanks, Teta.” He blushed.

  “You know,” Teta continued, “when you’ve gotten old like me, you realize the things you give away make you happier than the things you keep for yourself.”

  That made sense. Even though Kareem had worked all Ramadan to save up for his bike, he was actually kind of glad to be sharing it with Shawn. Weird.

  “I have to hang up now, habibi,” Teta said. “I don’t want to burn my Eid basbousa. But I want to tell you something else before I forget.”