CHAPTER 5

The next day at school, I waited till lunchtime to tell Daniel and Charlie that I was really sorry but I wouldn’t be able to buy a Nerf blaster for myself after all, which meant we couldn’t have an epic Nerf battle.

I didn’t want to tell them in the morning, because Mrs. Hutchinson had started the day with an awesome cookie-decorating session for us. She had brought in all sorts of toppers and sprinkles and bits of fudge and M&M’s. And, as you know, that isn’t something that teachers do very often. She said it was a lesson about “how to prepare food,” but I’m pretty sure it was mostly because she likes chocolate chips and she likes us— that’s another reason why she’s

Charlie and Daniel were so happy, gobbling candy and piling all the available toppings onto cookies, that I just kept my mouth shut about the bad news.

At lunchtime, we got   cauliflower spring rolls with steamed “carrots,” which may as well have been steamed sloth fingers, because they were so brown and gross. After we had finished complaining about the school cook and wondering how much it would cost to get a real chef at our school, I blurted out the bad news. “I have to tell you something . . . I can’t buy a Nerf blaster anymore.”

Daniel jumped up as if his bottom had been

and ran in circles around Charlie and me, screaming,

Charlie looked at me with a smile so big I could almost see his gums. He liked it when Daniel behaved all wild, as long as it wasn’t against him or us, like it used to be.

“Because, Daniel . . .” I said loudly over his screaming, “the mosque is going to close down if they don’t get enough money.”

Daniel stopped suddenly with his jaw dropped and said, “Really?”

“Yes. Super really.”

He started up again, and this time Charlie and I joined in.

When our lungs screamed back at us to stop, we fell onto the floor.

I had known Daniel would be upset, too. Ever since we got lost together on the London Underground and were chased by a not-really-zombie, Daniel has often talked about the London Central Mosque—because that’s where we ended up being rescued. I think he’s decided that mosques have superpowers or something. He even insisted on going to my local mosque with me once to see what it was like and whether they have halal candy there, too.

We made a new friend there that day, a girl named Aisha who doesn’t go to our school but who likes Batman almost as much as Daniel does. That kind of nice thing often happens at the mosque, not just for kids but for grown-ups, too. That’s probably another reason why Dad has a secret smile there—he says that it isn’t just a place for praying; it’s a place where a single person becomes part of something bigger. I’m not exactly sure what he means by that, but I guess the mosque IS quite a lot than a house. You couldn’t fit everyone who goes there into our living room for tea and snacks . . . though I bet my mom would try it if she could.

After we’d fallen down on the floor, we were all quiet for a little while. Then Daniel whispered, “No,” in a very small voice.

“No,” whispered Charlie.

“No,” I whispered, too.

And we decided right there that we were all going to help the mosque .