I watched Jamila sit by the pond and feed the ducks that swarmed around her. Her hair was tied up neatly in a high bun and her feet touched the water.
I had organised for the Wolf Pack to finally meet Jamila and start the slam stuff after school, since we only had a few weeks left until the end of term. Even though it was another job added to our list, we knew that stepping out of our comfort zone to do something we’d never tried would get the outside world to see us differently.
I watched Jamila a little longer, and was just starting to feel like a creep when she looked up and spotted me. She waved her hands at me to join her. I wanted to spend some alone time with her before the boys came.
I never knew how to greet her. Should I hug her, should I kiss her on the cheek – not sure if we’re there yet – do I wave or shake her hand?
But as with everything, she made things easy and hugged me.
‘Where are the boys?’ she asked, looking around. ‘Don’t tell me they backed down?’
‘No, no. I just thought we could hang out and talk about our own school slam before they came.’
She shook her head and smiled. ‘Even though we already spoke about it earlier today at the workshop?’
I was stuck. ‘Well, yeah, but I – ’
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’m just joking.’
We threw some bread in the water and more ducks swam to our feet. I hadn’t felt this calm in ages. For the first time, I felt like my head was actually staying above water.
Yesterday in training Huss had shown up like I’d never seen him before. He was pumped and ran harder than anyone else. Hazem taught him a few pointers, and kick after kick, he shot them over the black dot.
‘For Big Haji,’ he said every time he ran up for the ball.
‘He’s killing it, bro.’ Aaron was loud in his praise. ‘If he does this in our games, then we definitely have a chance to make it to the semi-finals.’
Truth was, I hadn’t been sure if he was even going to show up to training, but he had been the first one there. Big Haji was still recovering in the hospital, while Mum had cooked malfoof – cabbage rolls – Huss’s favourite, and made sure he and his mum had something to eat.
‘I know I was acting like a sook,’ Huss said to me before we got started. ‘But I had a lot of things going on and I took it out on the comp.’
‘Let’s just forget it and focus on winning these games,’ I said.
Jamila brought out her notebook from her bag, snapping me back into the present. ‘While we’re waiting, let’s think of a few ideas so we can get straight into it.’
‘What do you do to start a piece?’ I asked. ‘Like the one you read for BPS was really good, but it was –’
‘Personal?’
‘Like, were you comfortable sharing that stuff about your mum?’
‘It’s my truth,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in sharing my art if I’m not going to be honest.’
I only ever knew about her mum through her writing. ‘Do you still keep in touch with her?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I love her and she’ll always be my mum.’
She leaned on my shoulder. ‘People are complicated. You can still love and be broken at the same time.’ She rubbed my arm absently. ‘You smell nice.’
We sat and talked a little more until I heard some wolf-whistling from the other side of the park.
‘Get a room!’ PJ yelled.
‘This is Jamila,’ I said with a laugh when they got near enough.
Ibby hugged her. ‘I’m a hugger,’ he said. ‘And he likes you a lot, ay. Don’t hurt my Tariq.’
I could feel my face superheat. ‘Why don’t you calm down, Ibby, yeah?’
‘What? You do like her,’ he protested, then turned to her. ‘He says you make him nervous in a good way.’
I stared at him until he closed his mouth. I was happy to see Huss, and he had even brought his own notebook.
‘He’s back!’ PJ said putting his arms around him. ‘The Wolf Pack is back!’
‘Do you boys want to do it as a group? Or do you want to do four separate pieces?’ Jamila asked.
‘Together,’ Huss said. ‘I don’t want to be on stage on my own.’
She stood in front of us under the pergola in the park. ‘We know your school is in trouble, but slams are more about making people connect on a deeper level. You need to let people in and show them what’s beneath the surface.’
Jamila gave us time to write some ideas. After a few minutes, PJ scrunched his page in frustration. ‘I can’t rhyme!’
Jamila picked up the piece of paper and sat next to him. ‘Slams don’t need to rhyme. Think about it more as a rap.’
‘Like Tupac,’ he said.
‘Exactly, like Tupac.’
‘Why do you care?’ Huss asked curiously. ‘You could be at home now instead of being here. Why are you helping us out?’
She looked at me and smiled. ‘I want to be here.’
Ibby winked at me. ‘I like her,’ he whispered.
Huss sat next to Jamila and me. ‘I had time in the hospital with Big Haji so I came up with ideas for how to get people noticing us in a good way.’ He turned a few pages in his book. ‘We can do that signing thing.’
‘A petition?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, yeah.’
I watched him read idea after idea about posters in the streets, asking shop owners to leave the petition in their shops, and inviting as many people as we knew to the slam.
‘Feda helped me. She told me what you said, you know?’
‘What did Tariq say?’ Jamila asked.
If looks could kill, then Huss would be six feet under. ‘It was nothing.’
We spent the afternoon brainstorming our ideas. Jamila sat next to me and rubbed my arm, excited. ‘They’re doing really well,’ she said softly. ‘This is going to be so good.’
Aunty Salma caught me stuffing a letter into her suitcase. She wiped away a few tears and hugged me. ‘I just finished my makeup so don’t ruin it for me.’
‘Don’t read it until you get on the plane.’
Mum and Dad served date and pistachio biscuits and kids ran up and down our driveway, dodging the teas and coffees on the tables. My brothers sat with my older cousins inside the garage and watched a UFC fight, which only made the Arab women’s orchestra scream at them for not sitting with the guests outside. Uncle Charlie and Amira tried to sell some honey to the guests, and Feda sat beside a few of my cousins with her blonde hair straightened.
Why was she so dressed up?
You’d think there was some sort of major occasion with the amount of people walking in and out of the house but it was how we farewelled people. Mr and Mrs Wallace peeked over the fence and passed over a few dessert pies and sandwich platters they had made to serve to guests.
Aunty Salma was back in her over-the-top makeup and glittery clothes. We sat and talked a little more until Feda came and asked her for perfume. My brothers then called me from the garage to come over as quick as possible. ‘Don’t make it obvious,’ Abdul said, ‘but see that man sitting across from Dad, with the blue shirt? He’s here to see Feda.’
‘What? Like for marriage?’
They nodded.
I watched Feda walk back to her seat. She didn’t look right.
‘But she’s still doing her residency?’ I said. ‘She always said she wanted to finish first.’
‘I guess she changed her mind,’ Saff said with a shrug. ‘Don’t worry, I already called the cousins to ask about him.’
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I watched the man sit next to Feda. I had left it too long and I feared there was never going to be a right time to tell my sister that I was sorry.
Every moment was the right time. Even now, as I walked over and stood in front of them, not caring about who was watching.
‘Feda. You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to get married to please everyone else.’
‘Tariq?’ she cried.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said to you before.’ I turned to the man. ‘My sister is smart and pretty and the best person I know. She’s taken care of us her whole life and spends all her time now taking care of other people. You’re lucky to even think about being with her.’
‘Tariq?’ she cried again, standing up now. ‘He owns the practice in Bankstown and was talking to me about a job!’
Wait, what?
I turned back to my brothers, who were laughing like hyenas.
Everyone watching joined in as well. I didn’t care that I had embarrassed myself but I didn’t want to embarrass Feda. I turned to explain, but she stopped me with a smile.
‘Breathe, Tariq. We’re good.’
‘We are?’
She gave me a hug. ‘We are.’