“Fine, probably.” I shrug. If I’m being honest, I’m pretty sure I aced it. Like I’ve aced every single test since I started at this school—As all around. But Aisling is already glaring daggers at me and she might actually murder me if I don’t show at least some humbleness.
“Nice.” Humaira sweeps my test away into her bundle.
“How’d you do?” I ask.
She gives me a small smile and taps the side of her nose before moving on to the next row of seats.
I roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure if Aisling had asked, Humaira would have been more than happy to share.
But whatever.
chapter two
hani
WATCHING ABBA SPEAK IS KIND OF A SURREAL EXPERIENCE. His voice envelopes the whole room, and even though he’s speaking to everyone at this rally it seems as if he’s speaking only to me. In some ways, he doesn’t seem like my Abba at all. In other ways, he’s all of the wonderful things that make him my Abba.
Beside me, Aisling slips her phone out of her pocket. The glare of her screen is uncomfortably bright. I feel a prick of annoyance, but bite it down.
On the other side of me, Deirdre holds up her own phone to me. The top right reads 6:35 p.m. Dee raises an eyebrow like she’s asking me a question. I shake my head, hoping that answers her, but she’s frowning now.
Before I know it, she’s leaning forward until her shoulders bump against mine. “I thought you said we could leave at six thirty?” She says it like being here is some kind of punishment.
“Just wait a few more minutes …” I mumble, staring straight ahead at Abba. Trying to tune back in to his speech. I have—of course—already heard it many times. I could probably give the speech myself, if I didn’t absolutely hate speaking in front of people.
Still, I can’t ignore the way Dee leans over me to exchange a pointed glance with Aisling. Like being here an extra five minutes is truly painful for the two of them.
I chew on my lip, trying to decide the best course of action. On one hand, I don’t want to leave Abba here mid-speech. On the other hand, I don’t want Aisling and Dee to keep disrupting him.
“Come on,” I find myself whispering as I motion for the two of them to follow. In a few moments, we’ve weaved through the throng of people outside the mosque and are outside the gates. I can still hear the murmur of Abba’s speech here, but it’s not loud enough to decipher the words.
“If your dad gets pissed, just tell him that you had plans with us,” Aisling says when she glances at me. Like she can see the tension in my expression, and she’s mistaken it for fear of repercussion from Abba.
“He won’t get angry,” I mutter, following Aisling and Dee toward the bus stop.
“We don’t have to go to all of his speeches, do we?” Aisling asks. There’s a sneer in her voice, though she tries—and fails—to keep it out of her expression.
I have to stifle a sigh. I’m wishing that I had never told Aisling and Dee about this. When they asked me to hang out today, I should have said I was doing anything else—anything other than helping Abba with his political campaign.
Even hearing that it was going to take place outside the mosque hadn’t stopped Aisling and Dee from wanting to tag along. I had even felt a beat of excitement that I could show them our mosque. After all, I’ve spent so much of my time there—Eid, and jummah on the holidays when I don’t have school.
But it was obviously a mistake.
“I thought it was kind of interesting,” Dee says. Aisling turns to her with surprise written all over her face. She obviously doesn’t think anyone is capable of being interested in Abba’s political campaign, in the fact that he might be the first South Asian and the first Muslim to be elected to the county council.
“My dad says he’s so proud of how progressive Irish politics have gotten. That even someone whose English isn’t …”—
Dee glances at me—“… so great has a shot at winning.”
I can only settle Dee with a frown. “My dad’s English is perfect.”
In fact, his English is probably even better than mine. Unlike us, Amma and Abba spent their childhood learning all the mechanics of the English language. Abba sometimes uses so many big, obscure words that I’m sure he’s memorizing a dictionary in his spare time.
“Yeah, but … you know.” Dee raises an eyebrow like this is some kind of inside joke.
“I know …？”
“He has an accent,” Dee says. “Like, kind of a thick one.”