CHAPTER SIX

Safa

Safa tried to follow the words but the way Miss Ingle pronounced the words and the way they were written was completely different. This Irish language was very difficult.

Ruby was looking out the window, not listening at all.

Safa nudged her gently. ‘Sorry, but where are we on the page? I’m lost.’

Ruby shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I hate Irish. It’s really hard and boring and no one outside Ireland speaks it anyway.’

‘But it’s your national language,’ Safa said.

‘Yeah, but we all speak English. Hardly anyone speaks Irish at home.’

‘I’d want to learn my national language.’

‘Well, I’m rubbish at languages so what’s the point?’

‘Baba, my father, says that learning a new language is excellent for the brain. It helps it to expand. You are exercising a muscle.’

Ruby looked at her as if she was mad. ‘There are way better muscles to exercise.’

‘What do you like?’

‘Drama.’

‘Acting?’

‘Doing plays and acting and singing too, I guess.’

‘That’s great. Is the class doing a play this year?’

‘Yes, a musical.’

‘What musical?’

‘We don’t know yet.’

‘Will you be hoping for a big part?’

Ruby blushed and looked down. ‘I dunno, whatever. We’ll see.’

‘I hope you get one. I’m not good at acting at all.’

‘Yeah, but you’re good at everything else,’ Ruby said. ‘Even football. I think Denise was a bit surprised that you were so good. She’s used to being the best. She has four older brothers who she plays with all the time. She wants to be a professional footballer when she’s older.’

‘She is very good – and she’s a striker, and I’m only good at being a goalie, so she doesn’t have to worry about me taking her place.’

‘I hate being in goal. It’s scary.’

Safa smiled. Being a goalie was the least scary thing in the world. Being smuggled out of your country in a dark truck packed with people was scary. Being put on a small, overcrowded boat in the middle of the sea when you couldn’t swim was scary. Not knowing if you were ever going to see your Baba again was scary. Being a goalie was nothing. ‘I don’t mind it. I was always the goalie in the camp in Greece and then in Mosney too.’

Ruby looked at her. ‘Was the camp like actual camping with tents and blow-up beds and stuff?’

Safa shook her head. It amazed her that these girls seemed to have no idea what was going on in the world. How could they not know about the millions of refugees who had had to escape from war? Did they not listen to the news, or talk to their parents? The only person who seemed to know anything was Clara. ‘No, it was a refugee camp. We didn’t have a tent – we had a plastic sheet held up by four poles. It was overcrowded and we had to queue for three hours for breakfast, three hours for lunch and three hours for dinner.’

Ruby’s mouth fell open. ‘So you basically spent the whole day queuing for food?’

‘Yes, and the food was awful.’

‘That sucks.’

Miss Ingle clapped her hands. ‘Quiet at the back, please. Safa, if you need to ask a question just raise your hand. I know Irish is new to you. I’m here to help.’

Clara raised her hand. ‘Miss Ingle, shouldn’t Safa be exempt from having to learn Irish?’

‘She could be excused from learning it but Safa has asked to remain with us for our Irish lessons so she can learn.’

Twenty-four heads snapped around.

‘Are you mental?’

‘Are you nuts?’

‘Are you mad in the head?’

No one could understand why Safa wanted to learn another language if she didn’t have to.

‘My father says education is freedom. I want freedom,’ Safa said.

‘Freedom?’ Amber snorted. ‘Learning Irish isn’t going to give you freedom. I think you need to see a doctor.’

Safa felt anger rise up inside her. She tried to control it. Mama always said that if you spoke in anger you lost the argument. You had to stay calm to get your point across. She remembered the words Baba had used when he was explaining to her how important it was to learn. She used her father’s words now. ‘My father told me that freedom is very precious when it is ripped away from you and you have to run away in the middle of the night from your home, your friends and your family. Freedom is the ability to live in your own country in peace. Freedom is being able to go to school without turning up to find your school has been bombed to the ground. Freedom is knowing you will have food to eat, clean water to drink, a place to sleep. Freedom is being with your family. Freedom is knowing you will see your father again. Freedom is getting a good education so that you can help your family and others never to have to go through what you have been through.’

Silence. The class stared at her. Safa’s heart was pounding. She hadn’t meant to say so much, but she was so angry with Amber. Beside her, Safa felt Ruby’s hand slip into hers and squeeze it.

‘Well said!’ Clara shouted.

‘Beautifully put. Thank you, Safa,’ Miss Ingle said. ‘I think we can all learn a lot from what Safa has just said. Now, back to page twenty-one.’

‘I’d love this school to be bombed. It’d be the best day ever,’ Amber muttered under her breath.

‘What a freak. “Freedom is ... freedom is ...” lecturing us,’ Chrissie whispered.

Ruby leaned in closer to Safa. ‘Just ignore them. They are total idiots. I am too. I never thought about what you’ve been through. I’m sorry.’

Safa squeezed Ruby’s hand back. ‘How could you know? I could never have imagined that my life would change overnight from perfect to a nightmare. But it’s better now. I like Ireland. People here are very kind to us.’

‘Most of the people.’ Ruby grinned. ‘Some are total idiots.’

Safa smiled. ‘There are plenty of idiots in Syria too.’

They giggled.