Chapter 3

Omar waited for me by the narrow stream that sliced through the length of our village. This was one of our usual spots, the wooded area next to my father’s fields where our towering green stalks of sugarcane met the orange groves that dotted the landscape into the horizon. This area was far enough from the heart of the fields where our workers spent most of their time fertilizing the earth and keeping the groves and stalks trimmed and cared for, but even if they ventured to the edges, the shade trees here were thick and leafy, shielding us from view.

“I brought it!” he said when I approached and sat next to him on the fallen tree bridging the stream. He handed me a book with a burnt-orange cover.

I ran my hands over the raised lettering. The complete works of Hafiz. We had a small collection of books in our class, but it was no secret that the boys’ school had a much bigger library to choose from.

“So, what did you think?” I asked him. “Which one was your favorite poem?”

“Favorite?” He frowned.

“Omar!” I exclaimed. “You didn’t even read one poem?”

“I bring you what you like. Doesn’t mean I have to read it.”

“Yes, you do.” I poked him. “I need someone to talk about it with.”

“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll read some after you’re done. That’s how good of a friend I am.”

Omar’s dark hair looked almost brown under the bright afternoon sun. Looking at him, it hit me yet again how unfair it was for God to give me a friend who understood me completely and create him as a boy.

“Amal, I know he’s your friend, but you’re not a little girl anymore,” my mother had lectured me a few months ago when I turned twelve. “You can’t spend so much time with him.”

“But he’s like our brother,” I had protested. “How can I not see him?”

“Of course you’ll see him around the house—some conversations can’t be avoided—but walking to school together, talking freely the way you both do . . . people will start gossiping if they aren’t already.”

Omar and I were born three days apart. He lived with his mother, our servant Parvin, in the shed behind our house. They moved there after his father died, and I’d never known life without him. He was part of the fabric of who I was. I couldn’t follow this rule. Neither could Omar. So now we met in secret to talk, to listen to each other, to laugh.

“I told Miss Sadia I wouldn’t be able to stay after school,” I said. “I’m hoping it’s just until the baby comes, but my father said we’ll have to see how it goes.”

“Once things settle down, he’ll change his mind.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

“Your father probably got fed up because Safa unlatched a neighbor’s chicken coop again. You know you’re the only one who can keep up with her.”

“Omar, she did not!” I tried to stay serious, but a smile escaped. My youngest sister was a constant source of drama in our house.

“See? You know I’m right. Your poor father probably spent the morning chasing chickens and apologizing to neighbors.”

“You need to stop with the Safa conspiracies all the time.” I told him.

“Ha!” He grinned. “I’m going to have to become a lawyer. Safa will need a team of them with the trouble she gets into.”

“She’s only three!” I swatted him, but just like that, some of the heaviness lifted. He was right. Besides, my father usually gave in to us if we pleaded enough.

“Speaking of school, the headmaster from Ghalib Academy called. I got in!”

“Omar!” I exclaimed. “I knew it! Didn’t I say so?”

“And they’re going to cover everything! Room and board, all of it! This could change everything for me, Amal. If I do well enough, I could get one of their college scholarships. Can you believe it? Maybe I’ll even get my mother her own house one day.”

I hugged him. Omar had been attending the school across from mine, but Ghalib was one of the best schools around, a boys’ boarding school a few towns over. Attending it was a lucky break for a servant’s son like Omar. He was right—it could truly change everything for him.

“I wonder what the library there is like,” I said.

“That was fast.” He laughed. “Can I settle in to the school first before you have me hunting down books for you?”

“No way!” I said. “But I bet they’ll have more books than both our classrooms combined. And Hafsa told me some boarding schools have cafeterias with all the food you can eat and televisions in all the bedrooms.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “But they do have an after-school chess club and a debate team. And the dorm has a computer lab we can use in our spare time. The only thing is I’ll have to share a room with another student. Maybe even two students.”

“Do you know who they’ll be?”

“No. I’ll meet them when I go there for orientation weekend, but it’ll be strange living with people I don’t know.”

“Hafsa’s already staked her claim on me to be her roommate when we go to college someday.”

“Well, at least with Hafsa as a roommate, you’ll be up to date on all the inside information about everyone and everything on campus.”

“That’s definitely a plus.” I laughed.

The clink of glass bracelets shattered our solitude.

It was Seema. She ran toward us, her feet bare.

“Come quick,” she said between gasps of breath. “The baby is coming.”