37

AHMED’S HOOD AND MARINA DEL REY

The next morning, I found out two things. The first thing made me smile. We were going to the marina to have lunch at Cousin Lorna and Laura’s. And even though I knew they saw me as half white and therefore not exactly black like them, they were still very nice. The second thing—Ahmed was coming, too—made me frown.

His house wasn’t too far from Bibi’s.

We were walking up to Ahmed’s door when he opened it, came out on the porch, and said loudly, “Welcome to my hood!”

A teenage girl standing outside next door asked, “Is that your chick, Ahmed?”

“Naw, it’s my cuzzin, nosy.”

“I know that’s right cuz you ain’t never gonna have no chick cute as her.”

That made me laugh.

“Shut up, Jo’Nelle!”

“That’s about enough,” Bibi said, and the nosy girl slinked inside her house.

I glanced over where the girl lived, then at Ahmed in the backseat when we got in the car. “Is that your chick, Ahmed?” I mocked.

“Jo’Nelle? You gotta be kiddin’. She is way too skinny, plus she’s not my type.”

“What’s your type?”

“Not Jo’Nelle. That’s my type.”

“Can you two please not fuss?” Bibi commanded, then turned on the radio.

Ahmed sneered at me. “We’re not fussin’. We’re having a friendly conversation.”

The next thing he almost whispered. “So what’d you come down here for . . . tryin’ to learn to be black?”

“I didn’t know it was something you could learn,” I told him.

“You’re right, it isn’t. It’s something that you are, all the way down to your soul,” he said snidely.

Ahmed Diamond, please disappear.

The twins, Lorna and Laura, lived in a place called the Marina City Club. Their condo was on the seventh floor.

“Hello, hello, hello. C’mon in,” one of the twins said as she hugged each of us tightly, then motioned us inside.

Before we could get inside good, the other twin rushed up and hugged us. “Hello, hello, hello. C’mon in.” I almost wondered if they’d practiced what to say before we got there.

“They need to wear name tags so we can tell ’em apart,” Ahmed whispered, and for the first time I agreed with him.

“Wow!” I said as I made my way to the living room. The ocean view was awesome.

Bibi took my hand and held it. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

I gazed up at her pretty face. “Yep.”

“Cooltastic is what I call it,” Ahmed said as he scanned the horizon.

“Cooltastic? That’s not even a real word,” I informed him. “You can’t just go around making up words.”

Ahmed smirked. “Yes I can and yes I did. Cool plus fantastic equals cooltastic.”

He’s definitely a being from another planet.

Before long, lunch was ready and we were served all kinds of fancy, unusual foods. Foods from Thailand, India, Africa, and China. “We love to cook,” one twin said.

“Just love to cook,” the other echoed.

I couldn’t imagine one of them without the other. Just like Mom claims identical twins often are, they were two peas in a pod.

“A walk around the marina might do us good,” the twins suggested after we’d stuffed ourselves.

The marina was one of the prettiest places I’d ever been to. There were all kinds of shops and restaurants and the ocean breeze was just right—not too cold. Bibi was holding my hand, Ahmed was being quiet, and the twins were chatting to each other about their plans for the school year. The diamond ring on Bibi’s hand glittered. It felt like I belonged to them. They were mine and I was theirs.

When we reached the big rocks, we sat, watching the rolling waves. Boats, some with sails, raced by and a few people were fishing, but from what I could see, no one was catching anything. From one man’s portable radio, jazz music played. The beach sun warmed my skin. Because we looked alike, no one gave us puzzled looks and I remembered my beach dream. Just like the dream, it felt nice.

I glanced around once more at the Diamond family around me, then stood and walked along on the huge boulders toward the deeper part of the ocean.

“You be careful, Violet,” Bibi warned.

“I will,” I told her.

Of course, Ahmed got up and followed me, pouncing from rock to rock like a cat, showing off.

Finally, I reached the end of the rocks and was admiring the view when I lost my footing. But a hand reached out and saved me from falling—Ahmed’s hand.

“Thank you,” I told him.

“Ain’t nuthin’,” he replied.

A selection of homemade desserts awaited us when we got back to the marina condo. Chocolate-filled cream puffs, macaroons, flan, and lemon mousse. The twins really did like to cook and I hoped I’d be invited back again before I went home to Washington.

Even though I was just getting to know my father’s family, being here with them made it feel like Moon Lake was very far away—almost as far away as the moon.