40

Nadima’s Family

At the end of the afternoon on Friday, we all trooped into the hall for a whole-school assembly where the winners of the Charity Challenge were to be announced. Butterflies were turning somersaults in my stomach. We’d already worked out we were the winning team in Year 7 – but I wanted to be the best team in the entire school.

Some local bigwig had been dragged in to read out the results and hand out the book tokens. He stood on the stage, confronted by fifteen hundred bored faces. Bravely he tried to make the occasion exciting – mostly by reading out the three winning teams in reverse order and leaving a lot of dramatic pauses. Well, I suppose it works on TV.

‘The overall winners of this year’s Charity Challenge are …’ (long pause) ‘… in third place …’ (another long pause) ‘… The Karaoke Kings from Year 8!’ There was a smattering of polite applause – mostly from the teachers.

‘In second place …’ (longer pause) ‘… The Fantasy Cupcake Bakers from Year 10!’ This got a few whoops from some of the Year 10 girls. Probably the Fantasy Cupcake Bakers themselves. My hands had gone all sweaty, and my mouth was dry.

‘But in first place …’ (annoyingly long pause) ‘… this year’s Charity Challenge winners are …’ (excruciatingly long pause) ‘… Sweet Treets from Year 7!’

Kara squealed, Liam and Ryan high-fived and the whole of 7R burst out cheering and clapping. Nadima and I threw our arms around each other, nearly crushing each other to death! Then we all went up onstage to collect our book tokens. At the back of the hall Matt gave me a big thumbs up. He looked dead proud, and I couldn’t stop grinning. I stood there, beaming with pride. But most of all I was really, really looking forward to what was going to happen next.

Remember I said the winning team got to nominate the local charity that would get all the money raised? Well, Ryan and Liam had said they didn’t care, and Kara and Lily didn’t know any local charities, so I’d made the decision myself without discussing it with anyone.

It was meant to be a brilliant surprise.

As it turned out, it was a disaster. A total disaster.

The bigwig held up the piece of paper with the charity’s name on.

‘Well, I’ve not heard of this organisation,’ he said, frowning, ‘but I’m sure it’s a good one! The charity that’s going to receive all the money raised in this year’s Charity Challenge is …’ and he did the dramatic pause thing again, before announcing, ‘… Nadima’s Family!’

I’d imagined this moment in my head, over and over again. A huge cheer going up and a massive grateful hug from Nadima.

That’s so not what happened.

Nadima gasped and there was a stunned silence. Then everyone either called out things like, ‘That’s not fair,’ or, worse, burst out laughing.

‘It is fair, and it’s not funny!’ I shouted, furiously. ‘Don’t you people even watch the news?’ I thundered. ‘Nadima’s family are from Syria. They’re refugees and they had to leave everything behind when they came here. Back home they had a shop and a business and everything, but here, they have nothing. They’re poor, and they need the money.’

At which point Nadima burst into tears and rushed off the stage.

‘Nadima!’ I cried, shooting off after her.

‘Nad! What is it? What’s wrong!’ I called, catching up with her in the corridor.

‘Why you do that? Why you say that?’ she shouted, turning on me angrily. Her fists were clenched and for a moment I thought she was going to hit me. Tears of rage spilled down her cheeks. ‘We not poor. We proud,’ she yelled. Then, because even now her English wasn’t up to really explaining how she felt, she resorted to a stream of Kurdish.

I couldn’t understand the words – but I understood the emotions – and the volume. Especially the volume. Eventually she stopped bawling at me in Kurdish and said, ‘You shame me. You shame my family. You not my friend.’ Then she fled along the corridor in tears.

I stood there feeling completely numb. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Then the bell went for end of school and everyone starting pouring out of the hall. I couldn’t face seeing anyone, so I ran. I raced down the corridor and out of the building, and I kept on running until I got to the pick-up area where all the school buses were lined up. I dived onto our bus and slid into one of the back seats, where Matt always sits with his sixth-form mates. I sat there with my knees hunched up, waiting for him, and hoping he’d let me hide there for the journey home.