There were only two weeks left until the end of term and they were probably the most important two weeks ever.
Not only did our school look different, it also started to feel different. The air felt easier to breathe and we had a sense of purpose now. We weren’t just idling by and strolling in and out of school like zombies anymore. The seniors set up a school YouTube channel which featured daily highlights, Ibby’s weekly cooking videos as well as PJ covering songs that we voted on. Elias and Johnny walked around with a camera Mr Archie bought, capturing moments like Mum’s first day running the community garden.
Mr Archie had said that if enough people showed up from the community on that first day, then she would be a permanent fixture, teaching gardening skills to parents and students once a week. There was no way I was going to let Mum put all that effort in only to have parents not show up. Ibby and Huss’s mums called their friends and PJ’s Grandma Ceci told the women at her church, which meant eighteen parents showed up on that first day, the official record for any community project at our school. I watched Mum’s face light up as she scooped up soil with her hands and showed parents how to lay it on the ground. ‘Raising plants is like raising children,’ she said. ‘If seed is planted with lots of water and sun, then it grow to be healthy and strong.’
Another popular video on our channel was a special tribute to the two men who had started us on this path to recovery. Dad had clipped an article from the Daily Telegraph about Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed – The Tag-team Wonder Duo.
‘They didn’t even tell us,’ I showed the boys on our way to school. ‘I’m going to ask Miss K to make some copies and we’ll stick it around the school and on their office doors.’
Huss waited behind Mrs Amin in the front office to film their reactions when they walked into their offices. Some of the seniors hid with party-poppers and streamers, too.
Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed were talking and laughing with the men in suits. The seniors leaped out with confetti flying everywhere and cheers from the office ladies. It was important to show these two men that they meant so much to us and we appreciated all the hard work they had done so far, even when we didn’t deserve it.
‘How did you get this, lads?’ Mr Archie asked, his face turning red as he peeled the photocopied article away from his door.
‘Dad gave it to me,’ I said.
PJ moved his phone closer to Mr Archie’s face. ‘This is the first time our principal gets embarrassed, ay.’
Ibby tackled Mr Ahmed with a hug. ‘Wallah, you know I luv ya, sir.’
We also posted a video of the team at training with Hazem who shared it on his Instagram with the caption, ‘Real Heroes’.
On Thursday night, before the game against Team G, I was over at Aaron’s place, and he was oddly quiet. His mum had just told him that the sale of the Ferrari was almost a done deal. She actually referred to the sale as ‘a clean slate’.
‘Just talk to her,’ I advised, sitting in his room.
‘I did.’
‘You mean you shouted and then chucked a tantrum?’
He fell back onto his bed. ‘Your mum is so nice and she gets you. My mum doesn’t even know where I am half the time.’
‘Tell her where you are, then,’ I said. ‘I’ve told you this before, bro. She’s in pain, too. She lights candles for your dad. Have you even asked her if she is okay since he died?’
Trust me, I was surprised with myself for defending Mrs Furner. I had initially thought that no one could be miserable in a place like Aaron’s, but the more time I spent with him, the more I realised how empty and unhappy his house was. He was right. It did feel like a medical centre. But Mum always said, ‘Houses become homes when people inside show love to each other.’
‘Isn’t she the adult?’ he asked, sitting up. ‘Why do I have to parent her?’
I was going to reply when Mrs Furner walked in to return the container in which Mum had sent chicken home with Aaron. My body didn’t freeze or tense up when she was around now. There was a little more warmth and colour in her face.
She cleared her throat. ‘I wanted to thank your mum for the food she sent. She didn’t have to.’
‘You ate it?’ Aaron asked sceptically. ‘Or did you throw it away?’ She barely glanced at him as she handed me the container filled with biscuits. ‘They’re made with poppy seed.’
I didn’t know if she was being nice or if she wanted me to leave. In Arab homes, if you offer your guests something to eat too early, then that’s a sign that they need to go.
‘Thanks, Mrs Furner. My family will gobble these up.’
Aaron laughed unkindly. ‘You made them? Or did Abi do it?’
I kicked his foot in warning. His mum’s face froze over, and she nodded at me awkwardly. ‘Well. I’ll see you later.’
‘What the hell, dude?’ I asked Aaron. ‘She was just being nice.’
‘She doesn’t know how to be nice,’ he retorted sullenly. I knew if I stuck around much longer, I would end up getting into a fight with him, so I decided to head home early.
Aaron was having the worst game so far the following day against Team G, the team we needed to beat to make it to the finals. The score stood at 12–6 at half-time.
He sat on the bench, his knees bouncing. No matter how much Mr Archie spoke to him, I could tell that he had completely shut down.
‘You had a few opportunities to put some points up on the board,’ Mr Archie said. He checked his watch. ‘You have twenty-five minutes to prove that you can be a better captain than this.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Huss asked me.
‘His mum,’ I said. ‘She’s going to sell the Ferrari, his dad’s favourite car.’
Huss shook his head. ‘Can’t you talk to him?’
We watched Mr Archie and Aaron go back and forth until Aaron did what he always does when he can’t handle a situation – he stormed off, but not before kicking his bag a few times.
‘Go speak to him,’ Mr Ahmed told me. ‘If he doesn’t respond, then he’s no longer captain.’
Aaron was lurking by the toilets. He paced back and forth and told me he didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.
‘You won’t be captain if you don’t come back.’
‘I don’t care.’ He continued to pace. ‘I don’t care about this shit anymore.’
‘Yes, you do,’ I said, standing in his way. ‘I know you’re angry because of your dad’s cars but –’
‘But what?’ He raised his voice. ‘It’s the only thing I have left of him.’ He took a few breaths and his eyes began to swell. He turned his back on me and looked up to the sky. ‘I miss him.’
‘Then do it for him,’ I said, walking around to face him. ‘It’s just a car. It means nothing. The memories you had with him, the things he taught you, that’s what’s important. Things come and go, bro.’
He wiped his face a couple of times.
‘You need to stop running away, Aaron, and deal with this.’ ‘Archie’s going to kill me,’ he shuddered as we walked back to the group.
Mr Archie didn’t kill him, but he did strip him of being captain for the rest of the game.
Team G were good, but they lacked the energy to bring the game home even though they led at half-time. Riley carved them up out of dummy-half and Ibby and PJ pretty much carried our team on their backs. They were too strong to hold onto and both scored tries. Aaron had a better second half. Huss’s goal-kicking was on target and I found my rhythm, moving on the field and creating as many opportunities as I could.
The referee blew his whistle and we all tackled each other onto the ground. We had won 24–12.
Our position in the semis would be confirmed once all the other teams had played their games, but one thing was certain: Hunter and his team had lost no games, and were definitely through to the semis. I prayed that we would meet them in the grand final and could finally crush them both on and off the field.
Week 10 was our Poetry Slam at BPS. Jamila and I had presented our own slam to the poetry workshop earlier in the week. Jamila had turned the idea of Place to something about a woman’s womb and how that was the first place known to man. I want to say that I played a major role in us getting the highest marks, but it was all her. I was the dummy and she was the ventriloquist. That was how I described it to Feda.
‘I’m not going to lie, it makes sense now, seeing those changes in you,’ she said. ‘Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Trust me, I try with all my soul when I’m around her.’
Since there was no game in the last week of term, we had time to focus on the Wolf Pack slam on Friday night. Riley had designed a few posters that Huss, Ibby, PJ and I stuck on telegraph poles around Punchbowl. We also left some in shops, knowing that the more community support we had, the better it would be for the school. We had to let people know that we needed the community to get behind us, especially since Mr Archie and Mr Ahmed had invited the men in suits to come and watch us at BPS.
We met with Jamila every afternoon that week at Wiley Park, trying to polish our slam. She and I always met earlier than the rest of the boys and hung out.
‘So, you nervous?’ she asked, sitting with her feet in the pond.
‘You going to be there?’
She smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘Then no.’
Her hair whipped about in the breeze. Some got caught in her mouth and I moved the strands of hair from her face as she talked about Jehad and his reading.
‘His letters O and C are getting better,’ she said. ‘He can tell them apart now.’
‘I don’t know how you do it. You’ve moved into a new home and a new school. You take care of your dad and brother. You helped Amira finish the bars and you helped me out when I didn’t deserve it.’
She tapped her finger on my nose. ‘We have one chance at this life. I want to do the most I can to help so I can rest later.’
I held her hand. ‘I know you can find a million guys who are better than me, but I want you to know that if you ever need anything, I’m always here.’
‘Anything?’
‘Of course.’
She looked at me from the corner of her eye and her dimple appeared. ‘I want to fly.’
I stood up and brushed the dirt off my pants. ‘Alright, let’s go.’
‘What are you talking about?’
I pulled her up. ‘Jump on my back.’
‘Have you lost your mind?’
I tickled her until she agreed. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist.
‘Hold on.’
She yelled at the top of her lungs as I ran around the park then down the hill. I wanted her to feel for once that she didn’t need to carry people and that I would be there to shoulder the load.
I stopped before we reached the park pergola, and she dropped off my back. She then buried her head in my chest and we hugged for a while.
It was quiet. We held each other until I noticed Ibby’s head pop out from behind one of the pergola’s columns. ‘Is it safe to look?’ he called out.
The lights shone brightly and my heart raced a million miles per hour. We were seconds from stepping onto the stage. We wore our school uniform with pride, knowing that our community was here to support us. Shop owners, our parents, our teachers, the Cronulla boys, and even the men in suits.
Elias and Johnny brought the tripod and video camera and had set it up, right in the centre of the aisle. Ibby was quietly freaking out backstage.
I walked out with the boys right behind me, and we each stood in front of a mic, ready to read our parts.
‘Go, Tariq!’ I heard Aaron call out, followed by a loud cheer from the rest of the audience.
Just concentrate on something that calms you…
I searched the audience’s faces until I found her. Jamila blew me a kiss and I felt like I could take on the world.
I made one last prayer and began.
So, these men in suits want to close down the place that is helping me become a man.
A man of respect.
A man of hard work.
A man of loyalty.
It’s easy to judge from the outside, not knowing what’s inside, shattering our pride and then to decide with files classified, that we are not good enough.
Not good enough to have a place of our own, a place to call home, a place to feel safe.
Ibby took over.
Safe from the streets, from people’s constant tweets, that feeling of defeat that keeps us incomplete and broken.
Broken in a thousand pieces, seeing the police while the media increases, holding onto a long overdue phrase and cliché, that we Punchbowl boys are only sideways and will never change.
Change our so-called violent ways, these men in suits would say, forcing us to stay away from the place that made me who I am today.
Next came PJ.
The place that cared for me when my own mother turned away, busy getting high on some highway, forgetting that her only son was waiting for her by the doorway.
When I needed comfort and care, my teachers were always there, even as people stopped and stared, they never left me in despair.
You see, they see me. All of me. They see me for who I am, not who the world paints me to be and whether you agree or disagree, you can’t deny what the school has done for me.
Huss stepped forward.
And what it has done for me.
See, it’s hard not knowing what’s going to happen, as the days darken and the place that made me feel worthy of being called a son, may soon become undone.
I don’t know my dad. He left when I was a kid, not batting an eyelid and hid. When my birthdays came about, I’d count down until he came round but turns out I was the clown for expecting a dad to be glad to see his son not be sad.
And when I’d be mad pleading to be banned, my teachers held my hand, even when I felt like I was in quicksand. My school is my dreamland and the place I found peace from the troubles that waited for me.
I took over once again.
Our school closing is not an option no matter how many times you put us up for adoption. My friends from childhood, in a special brotherhood that no place can create, except for my school, which we stand today and celebrate.
We brought it home together.
We may seem tough and strong, but the truth is, the only place where we belong is here in Punchbowl.
Our home.
While everyone clapped and cheered, all up on their feet, we hugged each other, knowing that no matter what, from here on out, we were always going to be brothers.