Dad settles me and Imani back into her room. ‘I’ll let you two catch up.’ Then he leaves.
I look around, fully taking it in now, noticing the similarities and differences between her room and mine back home.
Similarities:
– There’s a bed, desk and window
– A copy of the Quran is on a high-up bookshelf
– A blue wardrobe with our initials on it
Differences:
– Her room is double the size of mine
– The theme of her room is mess — posters, newspaper clippings and clutter on her walls cover the wallpaper.
– My room has a reading nook, whereas Imani has . . . a sleuthing nook. Her window bench is littered with scrunched-up papers, a fingerprint testing kit, a map and a human skeleton diagram.
‘Done staring?’ Imani jumps onto her bed then taps my airbed with her foot. She wears checked capri pants and a neon vest. ‘Take a seat.’
‘I’d rather stand.’ I’m grateful that Dad doesn’t allow us to wear shoes inside the apartment – she seems like the kind of person to always have dirty shoes. But then, I bet she has dirty feet as well. Oh, dear.
‘What’s your name?’
‘You already know, but it’s Noori Tariq. I was born seven minutes after you.’
Imani looks at me dubiously. ‘Chicken or fish?’
‘Neither. I’m vegan.’ Me and Mom have been vegan for three years now. Plants take some getting used to, but they are yummy.
Imani scrunches up her face in disgust. ‘Books or movies?’
‘Books.’
A sigh. ‘Comics or movies?’
‘Books.’
That makes Imani chuckle. ‘Sunshine or rainstorms?’
That’s easy. ‘Rainstorms.’ Why? Because the science behind rainstorms – warm air rising into cool air, causing water vapour to turn into raindrops – is much more exciting than the science behind sunshine. I mean, who cares about the sun’s core turning hydrogen into helium during nuclear fusion, which creates the energy we feel in sunshine?
Plus, I suffer from hay fever. My hay fever is controlled in California, and Castlewick is cooler so hopefully I’m not affected.
‘Puzzles or puddles?’
‘Puzzles.’
Another sigh. ‘Oh dear, that’s a match. Deserts or desserts?’
‘Uh . . . neither.’ The Sonoran Desert’s ragweed flared up my hay fever. And desserts are great but I prefer savoury foods – they’re more nutritious.
She sighs yet again, this time super loud. ‘Painting or feinting?’
My eyes widen. ‘How is fainting enjoyable?’
Imani gives me a lopsided grin. ‘Not fainting but feinting. F-e-i-n-t-i-n-g. Like a pretend blow when you’re boxing to trick the other boxer?’ Imani stands on her bed and fakes giving a blow and then taking one – with sound effects too.
‘Oh. Then feinting.’
Imani raises her eyebrows. ‘What?’
‘I said “feinting”.’ Imani blankly looks at me, so I decide to explain. ‘I box. I’m quite good, actually. I’m one of ten Junior Boxers in California.’ I don’t like gloating and whenever it feels like I am, it’s awful. Just like now.
I patiently wait for Imani to respond while her face contorts. I’m looking into eyes that are the same shape and size as mine, only a different colour. Despite being non-identical twins, we do look alike. Her face is rounder and her nose is upturned whereas mine has a slight bump. I can imagine people doing double-takes during my stay here, even though I wear a hijab and she doesn’t.
I continue to wait and wait; Imani is speechless. Funnily enough, she’s biting the insides of her cheeks as if to physically stop herself from talking. What’s her problem?
The silence between us is tense. She ties her curly hair up in a bun, reminding me of Mom.
‘Well, I can shout superbly!’ Imani blurts out.
I can now do one of two things. I can:
1) Talk in a civil tone
2) Try to match her volume
It’s summer, the time of courage and change, so I decide to go with option number two.
‘Well, I can play piano superbly!’
‘So what? I can run brilliantly!’
‘I can read dictionaries brilliantly!’
She thinks for a second. ‘I can solve mysteries and riddles successfully!’
‘I can solve crosswords and equations successfully!’
Dad barges into the room. ‘What’s happening here?’
I point at Imani. Simultaneously she points at me. ‘She started it,’ we say.
Jinx.
Dad gapes at us, then lets out a dry chuckle. ‘Definitely twins. Imani, could you take Noori to Cafe Vivlio? I need to attend an important work call, you know, and I can’t have any distractions. I might be a while. I’ll pick you both up after and we can get ice-cream, yeah?’
‘He’s going to find out if he’s lost his job or not,’ Imani stage-whispers.
Dad says, ‘Go now. Be good.’ Imani opens her mouth to speak but Dad holds up a finger. ‘Both of you together. On best behaviour. I should be done by 6.30 p.m.’
He hands Imani an oversized lightweight cardigan. I’m still wearing my yellow pinafore.
‘You might want to speed up,’ Imani grumbles without looking at me. She opens the door and finally turns. ‘Because I walk very fast.’