With a slight flutter in my stomach, which may be the math test or may be the stale bread I had for breakfast, I knock on Bini’s door. No answer. Weird. He normally gets to our house first while I’m still getting ready.
I can’t be late today so I start walking slowly down the road, knowing that with his long legs Bini will catch up with me in a few minutes. I’ll hear the crunch of his shoes as he runs down the sidewalk after me, and lurch forward as he slaps me on the back when he could just as easily say hello.
Twenty minutes later, I arrive outside the school alone. I realize it’s the first time I’ve walked to school on my own this year. I head to my homeroom to go over my notes one last time.
Bini doesn’t come to the test.
He doesn’t come to school all day.
When classes finish, I walk to the market alone to buy tomatoes and then go home.
No one answers when I knock on Bini’s door.
I knock again more loudly and shout, “Bini, it’s me!”
As I turn to leave, the door slowly opens and Bini’s mother, Saba, looks at me.
“What is it, Shif? Bini’s at the market.”
“I just wanted to check to be sure he’s okay,” I answer, confused—I didn’t see him at the market. “We had a big math test today and he missed it.”
“Bini is okay,” she says.
“If he’s not sick, then can I come around a bit later? So we can go over the answers?” I add, realizing I sound a bit desperate.
“Don’t worry about that,” says his mother. “There’s no need. Bini won’t be coming to school anymore.”
She closes the door and I stand very still, wondering whether she will open the door again, laughing at the joke she’s played. But Bini’s mom isn’t the joking type.