Amal Unbound(27)

“Had a bit of flour left over, so I’m making us some fresh rotis,” Hamid said when he saw me. He slapped a floured circle of dough onto the skillet and flipped it. “Get the food quick while it’s nice and warm. We’ll clean up after.”

I hadn’t had fresh rotis in so long. I quickly made myself a plate along with the other servants.

I trailed behind Mumtaz and sat down next to her.

“Is it true?” Hamid asked me when he joined us. “Did you really talk back to those officers?”

“She did,” Bilal said. “I froze up as usual.”

“No one blames you for being afraid around those monsters,” Mumtaz said. “Not one bit.”

“Were they the same police officers that came by last time?” Ghulam asked between bites.

“No,” Bilal said. “These were different ones.”

“It’s a parade of them these days,” Ghulam remarked.

Bilal shrugged and picked at his food. He didn’t say anything. I was lucky I got to work for Nasreen Baji. I couldn’t imagine having to cater to a person like Jawad Sahib.

I cleaned up my dishes and put them away. When I stepped into the hallway, Bilal and Nabila followed behind.

“Thank you.” Bilal stuffed his hands in his kamiz. “Thank you for speaking up. You really saved me.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s okay. Really.”

“Well, Nabila and I were talking.” He glanced at her and then at me. “We know you like reading and were enjoying Jawad’s library, weren’t you?”

“It was a mistake,” I said stiffly. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“But what if you could read again?” Nabila asked.

I stared at her.

“Well, we were talking about it, and I know when he’s here, when he’s gone, and when he’s coming back,” Bilal said. “So maybe, if we were the lookout, you could borrow books again?”

“Why?” I asked. “Why would you help me?”

“Because we owe you,” Nabila said. “It’s our way to thank you.”

“He would notice his books were missing,” I said.

“Not if he forgot those books are even there. Come on,” she said. “Follow us.”

I trailed behind them down the hall to the library. Nabila walked over to one of the filing cabinets. She and Bilal pulled it forward to reveal a bookshelf wedged behind it.

“He jammed that new cabinet in there a few months back and hasn’t moved it since. He probably doesn’t even remember that there are books behind it.”

I looked at Nabila. As tempting as the books were, how many times could I fall for her tricks?

“Amal,” Nabila said. “I know I haven’t made it easy. I’m sorry. But you can trust us, really. You’re one of us now. As Mumtaz says, we have to look out for each other.”

I looked at her and then at the books. I slipped out a thin collection of poems and short stories. I ran my hand over the cover.

I didn’t expect to have this chance again—to be able to turn pages and learn new things and keep my mind alive.

I couldn’t say no.

It was worth the risk to have books in my life again.





Chapter 30





Bilal and Nabila remained true to their word. It had been one month since I began borrowing books from the library again. I’d gone through seven already. “You’ll have a few hours now if you want to get a book,” Bilal whispered to me now as we cleaned up after breakfast.

“Thanks,” I told him. “I’ll go in a few minutes.”

I put away the breakfast tray and rinsed out the milk saucer before slipping into the library to get a book. I barely glanced at the title before cloaking it in my chador. My hands shook, waiting as I always did for someone to walk in on me, but no one did.

Nasreen Baji was resting when I stepped into her room, so I had some time to read. I closed my door halfway and sat down on the bed.

I looked down at the book—God’s Own Land—and turned to the first page.

“You think I might be able to read books like that one day?” a voice whispered.

I nearly leapt off the bed, but it was just Fatima. She lingered by the edge of the door.

“Yes.” I gestured for her to close the door. “I know reading seems really complicated right now, but once you get the hang of it, it will be as easy as breathing.”

“Could you read to me?” She took a step toward me.

“Well . . .” I looked down at the book. “This book is a little complicated.”

“That’s okay. I just want to hear it.”

Fatima sat down next to me and I read to her.

I was wrong to expect her to get restless; instead she hung on to every word.



* * *



? ? ?

“Mumtaz and I are taking a break outside—join us?” Nabila asked me later that day, after Nasreen Baji had gone to visit a friend.

The thought of spending time with her still made me uneasy, but my mother’s words from arguments with my sisters came to mind—you have to find a way to get along; you can’t cast off your family. Nabila wasn’t my family, but she was who I lived with now. I had to do my part and make peace.