Love from A to Z(21)

Zayneb nodded, and, just before she turned back to the bulletin board, I caught a glimpse of her eyes.

The look of fear and worry, that stricken look, had gone from them now. Mostly.

Relief flooded my body.

And I had no idea why.

I examined the sketch of Stillwater. Dad had bought the stuffed toy for Hanna when she turned two. After mom. “My dad converted to Islam a year after my mom passed.”

She peered at Hanna’s project again and nodded. “And then you did?”

“Yeah. He taught me what he knew, and I converted a year later.”

“At eleven.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I was just worried that you’d be affected if I said something insensitive.” She swiveled the lid of her mug, took a drink again, and then lowered it. “So moms are okay topics.”

“Pretty much everything is an okay topic.” Except my diagnosis, a little voice said. I pushed it away. “Tea or coffee?”

“Air.” She unscrewed the lid and tipped the mug forward to show me the inside. “There’s nothing in this mug, and I’ve been pretending to drink it. I finished my tea before you even got here, but yeah, I saw you and panicked, because I was worried I’d somehow talk about something weird. So I just drank a lot of air.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Mr. Mellon turned the corner, waved at us, and fitted his key in to open the door. Following Zayneb into the classroom, I felt like the birds on her hijab.

Light and intent on soaring.

She was the real deal. That rare type: a WYSIWYG. What you see is what you get.

Third impression notwithstanding, I was pretty sure meeting her went beyond serendipity.

? ? ?

It turned out that for the entire field trip, I wouldn’t be seeing Zayneb.

Because Mr. Mellon had extra volunteers, she ended up being assigned to another class. A class that went on another school bus and took another tour.

I glimpsed her once across the macaw enclosure. She was standing back, letting students huddle in between her and the fencing as they watched the colorful birds. I waited to wave, but she never once glanced my way. Her gaze didn’t even reach the birds that the kids and their teachers were getting excited about.

When I came closer to the fence, I realized why. She was busy shooing a butterfly, one of the hundreds flying around us in the pavilion.

“Adam, I need it again.” Hanna clutched my arm. “Look at the macaw that keeps peeking out of its little home-hole.”

I took my phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. She clicked several photos quickly, without even paying much attention to what she was focusing on, and then gave the phone back before Mr. Mellon could see her.

He had declared no devices for students on the field trip. “We’re going to be in the moment. Here in this real world. Not in another dimension on devices or online.”

I scrolled through the photos Hanna had taken.

My sister was such a rebel. She’d taken the pictures just for the sake of breaking Mr. Mellon’s rules. Most of the photos weren’t even that clear.

Except two. One was a macaw, yes, peeking out of a hole in a tree. And the other was a shot of an empty part of the cage, with Zayneb in the background, frowning at a butterfly fluttering in front of her face.

Was she scared of them? Butterflies? Or, maybe, allergic?

“This is so amazing—two of the birds are talking to each other! I need to take another one! Please?” Hanna looked up at me, eyes pleading, tendrils and even chunks of hair escaping from the two ponytails in the back. “Just a teeny video. I want to show Dad!”

I gave in. It was the hair. She’d been doing it herself since she was five. After she declared that Dad made her look like an octopus whenever he did her hair.

She looked kind of like an octopus at the moment. An octopus bounding away with my phone.

“Adam, ready for your next stop?” Mr. Mellon and his group had arrived at the macaw area. Which meant I was supposed to have already moved my group of five students to our next exhibit, that of the Beira antelope.

As I began the hard task of herding the kids, I heard my name.

“Adam!” Zayneb waved energetically from across the enclosure.

Her face was the exact opposite of the image captured on my phone—now it was lit by enthusiasm.

I waved back.

She was leading her group of kids in the other direction from where I was scheduled to take mine, so I decided to make an executive decision.

“Okay, guys, I know we’re supposed to see the Beira antelope. But.” I paused and flipped the pages of the package Mr. Mellon had provided us volunteers.

Aha, found it: the exhibits schedules for different groups from DIS, along with a handy map.

Ms. Nielson’s fifth graders, Team C, were the other group that had been at the macaw display at the exact same time my group was.

That meant Zayneb was with Ms. Nielson’s Team C.

That meant they were going to see something exciting next.

I addressed my team using my most energetic voice. “How would you guys like to see an elephant?”

“YAY!” The two girls and two boys with me cheered and did dances. Where was Hanna?

Coming my way.

With Mr. Mellon.

“Adam, Hanna has something to say to you.” He peered down at Hanna with eyebrows knotted together, his eyes boring into hers with significance.