Love from A to Z(44)

“What’s going on here, girls?” Though she said “girls,” the gym teacher addressed me.

I lost it inside. But knew to keep it cool on the outside, not sure what kind of teacher I was talking to. “What’s going on is this girl here is revealing the racist she is. She called my friend Kavi over there ‘kebobi.’ Then told me to go back to where I came from.”

“Ms. Larsons, I just said ‘Go back to the bench.’?” She blinked her eyes innocently.

“Did you call Kavi a slur, Rosie?” Ms. Larsons shifted her gaze to the racist.

“No, though I did say she can’t play basketball.”

“Yeah, she said ‘Girl can’t play ball.’ Literally,” Rosie’s friend lied.

“She said ‘Kebobi can’t play ball.’ Literally.” I crossed my arms and turned to look at Ms. Larsons. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten upset. Everyone says ‘Girl can’t play ball’ all the time in gym class. That literally wouldn’t have gotten me angry.”

“Rosie, get to the bench. For the rest of class. That’s not the right attitude for playing.” Ms. Larsons turned around and walked back, blowing the whistle.

She’d believed me, but I stood there fuming. Attitude?

The best thing that came from the whole thing was I got a true friend for life when I called Kavi my friend while talking to Ms. Larsons—and Kavi, dusted off and upright, heard.

There was a second great thing too. I kept calling out Rosie’s racism, as well as other, lower-level shenanigans, in gym class, relentlessly, not caring about my gym grade.

So relentlessly that, even though she was amazingly good, she didn’t make the basketball team in February, getting a rep for “poor attitude.” And although her problem was bigger than that, I so loved benching her. Literally.

Now Kavi was sticking up for me?

? ? ?

Okay, but it just feels sad. That I can’t know stuff.

As soon as we have something concrete, I’ll alert you, okay?

I didn’t reply to Kavi.

I feel sad. Thinking of you sad over there.

I didn’t reply again. Because Kavi was right.

So I’m going to tell you one thing only then: Noemi found out Fencer’s alias.

Ayaan found that out ages ago. @Sittingducksrevolt.

No, that was his old one. Deleted, remember?

There’s a new one?

Yep. Before he got Ayaan in trouble, he scrubbed his presence, the old one.

Noemi found something else?

@StoneWraith14

Weird.

Yeah. A wraith is a ghost.

A wispy one, according to Google.

It’s kind of scary. Him disappearing online to come back . . . as a ghost.

How did Noemi find out his handle?

She’s super smart. Something Margolis said about this book Fencer wanted to write about gargoyles made her search everything connected to it.

That’s weird luck.

Anyways, forget Fencer. Are you having fun? What are you up to?

Ya, it’s low-key fun. I’m just doing whatever. My aunt’s working during the day, so I just do my own thing. Like today I got gifts for you.

I miss you. I love you. I like you. More than Noemi. Way more.

I smiled. I like you way more than Noemi too.





A SECOND MARVEL: HUGS


Exhibit A: Auntie Nandy.

By the time Auntie Nandy got home—at eleven o’clock (must have been some serious meeting!)—the luggage I’d come to Doha with had been completely emptied and repacked with Souq Waqif gifts, my laundry was put away neatly in drawers, my Instagram was updated, my room was superclean, I’d prayed Isha and read Qur’an, and I was on my second episode of Sweet Tooth. I’d seen cupcakes with real-looking candy plants sprouting from them, a dollhouse cake, and unbelievable floating desserts that burst like fireworks.

After letting herself in, Auntie Nandy came right over to the couch I was sitting on, without dropping her purse or schoolbag, and hugged me. It was a supertight hug even for Auntie Nandy, who had a reputation for tight hugs. I sunk into it, surrendering willingly. In gratitude.

She held on for a long time.

“You’re amazing, okay?” She let go of my shoulders and her bags, and sat down beside me.

“You are amazing too, Auntie Nandy.” I wasn’t surprised by the sudden hug. It was very Auntie Nandy, but today it hit the spot of sadness that I thought I’d shoved deep inside. I blinked away the sudden teary burst of emotion the hug had unleashed and got up from the sofa. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Yes. Chips. And pop.” She smiled sheepishly, kicking off her shoes. “I just want to eat a big bag of chips and drink fizzy sugar.”

“What? You don’t even have such stuff in the apartment. I know. I spent almost an hour trying to find some the other day!” I advanced to the kitchen. “I’ll get you some good food. I’m sure there’s something in the fridge. Remember you were cleaning out your toxins?”

“No. Go to my room. In the closet there’s a big, blue plastic bin. It’s not too heavy, so you can pull it out here.”

I was perplexed but followed her instructions, dragging the blue Rubbermaid bin behind me to set it at her feet in the living room.

She opened it up to reveal various junk foods and cans of pop.