Good Kid-Bad Kid[COMPLETED]

Chapter 15 (Laila)

For the hundredth time since he'd left I thought back to Baba. It had been like, twenty minutes since he'd gone, but still. I wondered why I hadn't been angrier, why I hadn't shouted at him for ruining Mama's life. Maybe it was the utter shock of just seeing him, of finally feeling the presence of my father, who despite everything, still felt like the protector as he was supposed to be.

My father was a tall man, just like my mom. He had greying hair cut military style, fair skin that seemed a little tanned, a strong jaw covered with a clean cut beard and nose that looked as though it had been broken a few times. His eyes twinkled and crinkled around the edges, even more so when he smiled. Though I hadn't seen so much as a picture of him before, I'd known without doubt this was my father. And even though I tried really hard to be angry at him I just couldn't.

He'd sent his men to protect us as soon as he'd known we were here. One of which was that infuriating boy, Badr. He was really so annoying, and just so impossible. He seemed to be that kind of guy that never let you get the upper hand. There'd been a sinister aura around him, but at the same time I found it hard to be scared around him. He'd also brought me here....and changed my shirt. I flushed, feeling thoroughly embarrassed and annoyed. He 'didn't look' my ass. And he'd also seen me without my hijab on. It had taken a few hours for every thing modest about me to evaporate before Badr.

Despite that, I couldn't ignore the fact Mama was still alive because of him, but essentially because of Baba and her attackers 'dealt with'. I myself had been taken instantly in his care without any questions asked or anything. And now I even had my own room.
Speaking of which I hadn't explored.

I folded up the bed I'd been in, wincing slightly because I was still quite sore. On closer inspection my back was covered in linen and bandages so it was rather stiff, and my head kind of throbbed.
Tucking loose strands of hair back, I shut the light and stepped out of the room.

I felt like I was in a really expensive hotel.

The hallway was lighted up and the walls were painted a cream-gold color in flawless ness. The carpet was maroon and thick so your feet comfortably sank into it an inch. I made my way timidly past two more doors before the place opened up to a large living area plus kitchen. A huge, magnificent black and gold Persian carpet was spread, around which was arranged cream colored leather furniture. Someway to the side by the kitchen was a long elaborate mahogany dinner table with several high backed chairs. The walls were decorated with pieces that looked middle eastern including a lot of Islamic calligraphy; Allah, Mohammad, Ayatul Kursi etc. at the far wall of the living area began a staircase and it winded around and then up, to the second floor. I quickly crossed to it, thinking back to what Baba had said, the first door was my room.
Taking a deep breath for some reason at the top of the stair case which was in part because I was slightly winded from climbing up the stairs, I found that door. To my surprise it already had a plaque reading Laila on it. A strange tenderness touched my heart, it was so plain that Baba had looked forward to our return for such a long time.
Pushing open the door I stepped into darkness. Feeling around on the wall I finally found the light switch and flicked it open.

My jaw actually dropped.

This wasn't a room. This was a mini house inside a room.
The first thing I'd expected to see was a bed, but instead it was what looked like a small semi-room with cute love chairs and a small round table, a tiny counter with the smallest fridge I'd ever seen. It was lined with fizzy drinks, and on the bottom shelf was a chocolate cake. Feeling slightly awed I shut the door behind me and walked in through to the next section, which was a study place with a desk with a laptop ready, and lamp and an empty shelf for books. I itched to arrange my notes on there.
Then there was my bedroom, with a queensized bed covered in a pink duvet with heaps of white and pink pillows arranged on it. The door on the far wall turned out to be a bathroom, not too big or small, just right, with marble...everything.
The final room shocked me the most.
It was a really large wardrobe/dressing area. I slid open a sliding part of the wall which revealed a row of dresses, all floor length, each really beautiful and with a pang I wished I knew how to pull these things off.
Another door revealed more casual clothes and, thank god, a section of football shirts. I couldn't help it, I checked all of them, and recognized them as mine! There were also new ones, and to my utter shock, a Barcelona one too. Maybe Baba didn't follow the football, because Real Madrid and Barcelona wasn't a combination.
Other parts of the room revealed a tonne of makeup items, accessories and a whole row of hijabs. I felt slightly uneasy. I couldn't possibly have all this! It was too much and I'd done absolutely nothing to deserve it.

Tomorrow first thing I was going to mention it.

I changed out of my clothes and put on the one night suit, a baby blue shirt and pants with white stars that made me feel like I was five but felt comfortable. Stepping out of this room I made my way to the bathroom and made wudhu for Isha, and for the first time in a long time I prayed it in full, then continued with a couple of extra naafil Salah to ask for Mama's surgery to go well in sajda. Just to make sure it all went well, I decided to fast the next day. I wasn't a scholar or anything but I had a feeling that if you wanted something from Allah, you had to play your part in showing you deserved it.

***

At 3:45 am my arm went off and I shut it quickly, hopping out of bed. I felt wide awake, almost as though I could take a run. Then a searing pain in my back reminded me that was not a good idea.
Right, time for Suhoor.
I could eat some of that cake...or I could check out the pantry downstairs. I decided on the latter.
Tying up my hair in a bun I draped a hijab around my head loosely, as a sign of respect in case somehow I came across Baba who was somewhere in this huge house.

I walked down the stairs quietly. That wasn't hard because the carpet muffled most of the noise. The lights were still on but I noticed they had been dimmed for the night. I made my way to the kitchen and opened the pantry, scanning the rows of food and my face brightened when I saw a bottle of Nutella. It was high up so I had to stretch to reach it and when I managed to push it out it dropped. I picked it up hastily hoping the noise didn't wake anyone up.
It took me a moment to find the bread which was in the fridge, then set to work piling the delicious stuff on two pieces.
"There we go" I said to myself, grinning. I turned around with my plate in my hands to take it back to my room-
And screamed.

There, right behind me stood a tall black figure, his face half covered with a black cloth. We stared at each other for a few moments, both thinking what to do. Just as I settled on throwing my plate at him and making a run for it, the figure rolled his eyes and ripped off the cloth.
I almost screamed again.
It was Badr.
"Shut up!" He hissed, "Do you want the entire defense squad here?"
"Yes!" I exclaimed, "what are YOU doing here?!"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well I was sound asleep in my room until I heard noises at-" he checked his watch exaggeratedly, "3:50 am in the morning"
"Okay I get it. I'm sorry"
"You should be. I've been up for two days straight now"
I shook my head in exasperation and pushed past him, making my way across the huge room to the stairs.
"You know, this is a really weird time to eat" he said, following, "are you an insomniac?"
I sighed and turned around, "no, I'm eating for Sehri," I'd assumed with his name being Badr he was obviously Muslim and must know what Sehri was.
Apparently not.
Badr scrutinized my plate, then looked back up at me in amusement, "That's nutella"
"...I know?"
"You said you're eating Sehri"
I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my free hand.
"Okay" I said, "let's try that again, I'm eating Suhoor"
Understanding flashed on his face and I sighed in relief, but then he said, "So you call Nutella Suhoor or in your language. Which is?"
"Urdu" I answered curtly, after a brief moment of shock, "and you're unbelievable"
With that I climbed up the stairs, leaving Badr staring at me thoughtfully.