CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Safa

Safa watched from the back of the class. Ruby hadn’t forgotten any of her lines. She was brilliant. It was as if she was the Scarecrow. But Amber kept adding ‘Oh my God’s and ‘Like, totally’s to her lines. Mr Parson was beginning to get annoyed.

‘Stick to the script please, Amber, no extra words.’

‘Dorothy’s such a boring dork and do I seriously have to wear this costume? I much prefer the one I brought in.’ The one Amber had brought in was so short you could almost see her underwear. Mr Parson had told her to take it off and that under no circumstances was she going to wear ‘that outfit’ in the play. ‘I look like an old granny in this stupid dress.’

‘You’d look amazing in anything,’ Chrissie gushed.

Denise made a vomit face at Safa and they laughed.

Amber flicked her long hair. ‘Yeah, well obvs I know that, but still, I’d like to wear something that’s not completely disgusting.’

‘That’s enough, Amber. Chrissie, say your line.’ Mr Parson urged them along.

‘I shall take the heart, for brains do not make you happy and being happy is, like, brilliant.’

Mr Parson sighed. ‘Stop, Chrissie. When Frank Baum wrote this beautiful character, he did not write “like, brilliant”. He said, “and happiness is the best thing in the world”.’

Chrissie rolled her eyes. ‘It’s, like, the same thing.’

‘No, it is not. Say the lines as they were written, please.’ Mr Parson ran his hands through his hair, which was already sticking up all over the place.

Amber cut across them. ‘Mr Parson, my mum said she wants six seats reserved in the front row.’ She twirled a lock of her blonde hair around her painted fingernail.

‘We do not reserve seats. Seating will be on a first-come-first-served basis, as always.’

‘Yeah, well, Mum said that because I am the star of the show, she wants front seats.’

‘Well, then, tell your mother to come very early to get her seats.’ Mr Parson turned and walked over to Ruby.

‘It’s very scratchy.’ Ruby wriggled around as the straw in her costume rubbed against her arms.

‘I know, but it looks very lifelike,’ Mr Parson said. ‘And well done for knowing all your lines. You were word perfect.’

Ruby smiled over at Safa. ‘I had a very good helper.’

Denise waved her arms. ‘Do I really have to be a Munchkin? Walking on your knees with shoes sticking out is really hard.’

Ruby giggled. Denise looked ridiculous with big men’s shoes sticking out from her knees.

Mr Parson took off his glasses and wiped them. ‘No complaining about silly little things. Let’s focus on getting our lines right.’

Denise hobbled off, grumbling. Then it was time for Amber to sing her big solo.

Although Safa hated to admit it, when Amber sang ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ it made the hairs on her arms stand up. She had a gorgeous voice.

Later that day they were sitting around after lunch trying to keep warm, huddling up against the radiator in the corridor.

‘Only four and a half weeks to Christmas. What are you asking for?’ Clara asked Denise.

‘Football boots and a small surprise.’

‘I’m asking for an iPad,’ Clara said. ‘What about you, Ruby?’

‘A surprise,’ Ruby said.

‘What about you?’ Denise asked Safa.

‘Muslims don’t celebrate Christmas.’

‘What?’ Denise was shocked. ‘Like, not at all?’

‘No, we actually have two big celebrations, Eid al-Adha and Eid al-Fitr, which is at the end of Ramadan.’

‘What’s Ramadan?’ Ruby asked.

‘It’s a little bit like your Lent. We fast from dawn to sunset.’

‘Hold on a minute – fast as in eat nothing?’ Denise looked shocked.

‘Yes, and drink nothing too.’

‘What? But for how long?’ Ruby said.

‘A month.’

‘What?’ They all stared at her.

‘A month? Are you not starving?’ Ruby asked.

Safa laughed. ‘We eat in the early morning and in the evening.’

‘But a whole month? What if you’re playing football and you need a drink of water? I mean, can you not have it?’ Denise asked.

‘You just drink lots of water at dawn and again at sunset.’

‘But ... but that’s mad,’ Denise said.

Safa shrugged. ‘You give up things for Lent.’

‘Yeah, but I gave up crisps and Clara gave up jellies. It’s not remotely the same.’ Denise said.

‘You get used to it and at the end of Ramadan we have our “Christmas”. We give each other presents and all the family gets together and celebrates. It’s so much fun.’

‘I can’t imagine not eating for a day,’ Denise said. ‘I’m always hungry. It must be so hard.’

‘It actually isn’t.’

‘I think you’re amazing, Safa,’ Ruby said. ‘You’ve been through so much and you can fast as well, and you never moan. I tried to give up biscuits last Lent, but then one day after Robbie had had a two-hour meltdown, Mum offered me a chocolate digestive and I took it. Mum lives on coffee, chocolate and biscuits. She says the caffeine and the sugar help keep her going. She could never be a Muslim.’

‘Well, I could never become a Muslim either. I need my food,’ Denise said.

Safa smiled. ‘I guess you never know if you’re going to be able to do something until you’re put into a situation.’

‘My mum says this quote all the time: “A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water,”’ Clara said.

‘Safa’s been in lots of hot water so she must be a really strong tea bag,’ Denise said.

The girls all laughed.

Safa felt happy. She knew that these girls accepted her for who she was. They didn’t care that she had a different religion, different beliefs and customs. They were her friends no matter what and she knew she could trust them. It felt so nice to have good friends again.

She’d never forget Sarra, Amira and Taqwa, her friends from Syria, but Clara, Denise and especially Ruby were her best Irish friends.

Safa was walking home with Ruby, who was unusually quiet.

‘Is everything OK, Ruby?’ she asked. ‘Is Robbie sick?’

‘No, he’s fine. I’m just a bit worried.’

‘About what?’

‘Can I ask you a favour? Will you pray to whoever Muslims pray to that Robbie gets into Grangepark, the school I told you about? We’ll find out in about two weeks, and if he does get in, it’ll be so amazing. It’ll just make everything so much better for him – but also for all of us. Mum will have her days free to work and be a proper mum again and Dad won’t have to drive so many hours and ... and ... well, it just has to happen.’

Safa watched as Ruby fought back tears. ‘I really hope it works out for you,’ she said.

‘It has to.’ Ruby looked at her, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘Otherwise I think my mum will break.’

Safa squeezed Ruby’s hand. She felt sick in her stomach. If there was one thing Safa knew, it was that nothing in life was ever sure. ‘Try to concentrate on the play. It’ll help distract you. The counsellor at the camp in Greece told me that distraction is good; it takes your mind away from the bad things and focuses it on more positive things.’

Ruby gave her friend a little smile. ‘I will and thanks. Sorry to bore you with my stupid problems when you’ve got so many of your own. Honestly, Safa, you’re so brave and strong.’

Safa smiled. If only Ruby knew. She wasn’t brave or strong at all. She woke up most nights crying from terrible nightmares about Baba. ‘I think we’re all just getting on with what we have to get on with. Everyone has problems.’

Ruby bit her nail. ‘I know, but some have more than others. The only problem Amber has is that she can’t wear a miniskirt on stage.’

Safa grinned. ‘Amber has many more problems; she is not a nice person. Baba always says there is a reason when someone is not nice.’

‘Yeah, it’s called getting everything you want and being spoilt rotten,’ Ruby said.

They giggled.

‘Mama’s coming to see the play, even though I’m only introducing it. I’ve explained the story to her, so she understands what’s going on,’ said Safa.

‘Mum and Dad are coming. Orla is looking after Robbie. Well ... they said they’ll come, but who knows?’

Safa put her arm on her friend’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure they will.’

Whatever happened, Safa thought, Ruby’s parents had to see the play. Their daughter needed them to show up for her this time.