BEFORE YOU READ YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS CHAPTER IS RUSHED. Yeah, sorry about that....I'm not the greatest writer, and I also promised to upload in like less than a week so yeah...Kay, enjoy! Don't forget to vote and comment! Your comments make me smile! Okay, I should stop typing now.
***
Winter break finally rolls around. I am relieved that we have two weeks off of school. For me, that means two weeks away from any potential danger: Nick and his crew. It also means that I have one more week to spend with Zahra before she finally moves to Florida, and a week and a half to spend with my dad and his fiancee.
Georgia makes a mouth-watering breakfast which includes blueberry waffles, syrup, bacon, and orange juice. I don't even touch the bacon. Mom gives me an incredulous look. "Sweetie, don't you want some bacon? I thought you like bacon. I've bought two boxes just for you."
I shake my head. "I'm getting too used to bacon. I'm thinking of consuming it more moderately," I reply frankly. In my head, I'm thinking, I won't eat bacon ever again. I drink a sip of my juice.
Kara looks at me dubiously, whereas Keith enjoys his breakfast. "This is great!" he remarks with his mouth full of food.
Georgia gives him a smile. "Why thank you, Keith. I'm happy you think so."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Georgia is nice. Too nice. I just can't stand it, considering that I'm now Muslim and I'm trying to be more kind and respectful. All my life, I've been around people who are rough and bitter, not soft and sweet like my future stepmother. Dad seems to be overlooking this. He grins at Georgia every time he makes eye contact with her. It's like he's a clown without the makeup, and no, I'm not trying to insult my own father. Duh.
Mom has been getting used to this by now. She looks less agitated and more comfortable, now that she accepted the fact that yes, Dad is going to marry a gorgeous woman. Not her. I almost feel bad for Mom, who forces a smile on her face when deep down she's in emotional pain.
One thing always comes to mind when I notice everybody is in a happy mood: should I finally tell my family that I am Muslim? There would be less of a chance for my parents to be highly disappointed in me. But I just have a feeling that there is going to be a more opportune time for me to announce my conversion. And when that time is, I absolutely have no idea.
"Daisy, I've been thinking of taking the kids skating," Georgia announces. Mom squeezes syrup on to her stack of pancakes. The syrup falls down gradually to the red ceramic plate. Mom just nods. She hasn't spoken all morning. "Great. We'll go in an hour. Are you coming along, Marcus?" she asks Dad.
He shakes his head. "Daisy and I both need to talk," he responds grimly. "You go spend some time with the kids."
I really want both my parents to tag along. I've never been skating with my dad in months, and Mom is not into that kind of thing, maybe because skating results into falling on your butt five thousand times. Well, if you're an amateur.
"Dad, please," Keith pleads, as if he was reading my thoughts. "You and Mom can talk later. You're staying here for another ten days anyways. There's plenty of time to talk."
Dad sighs. "I don't know, kiddo..."
"Dad?" Kara pipes up. "We really miss hanging out with you." She hugs our father. "Can you please come along?"
Dad looks deafeated and finally nods. "Okay."
My siblings scream in joy, thrusting there forks in the air, and knocking there juice on the table. Nobody doesn't bother to scold them; we all know that they miss Dad dearly. And so do I.
***
Mom decides to stay home while we go out. I don't bother to persuade her to come along; that woman never changes her mind. Ever.
After paying for admission and rental for skates, we each get a pair of skates, except for Keith, who takes roller blades. Once I stand up from the chair, I lose my balance, but regain it as I grab Dad's shoulder. He chuckles and skates away, leaving me to my misery of falling on my behind before I even get to the skating rink. I struggle, and finally roll on the polished wood floor. I take a deep breath, thrust my right foot forward, and glide.
Sure, I've been skating plenty of times, but I've never accomplished the feat of staying on my own two feet. I almost feel energetic, full of life, that is, until someone bumps into me, and I fall drastically on my arm. I grimace in pain and scowl at the person who skated past me, who didn't even bother help me, let alone apologize. I get up, and continue skating, avoiding anyone near me.
Keith whizzes by on his roller blades, Dad along his side. He smiles gleefully. This is the first time they've had fun together ever since our Dad cut us off from his life.
Kara shows up beside me. Georgia comes afterwards. They both skate gracefully, which I am quite jealous of. "I'm going to take a break," I tell them. "I fell and my arm hurts." Georgia nods and Kara just shrugs. I skate over to a bench and sit down, already exhausted.
Someone sits on the bench too, but a few feet away from me. I widen my eyes and point at him accusingly. "You pushed me!" I scream at him.
He looks up at me with green eyes that twinkle. His short curly hair shines in the light, and he has a smirk planted on his face. I frown, because it's somewhat similar to the smirk Nick has. "Pardon me?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"You pushed me. How simpler can I get?" I growl.
He chuckles lightly. "I apologize. I thought I bumped into the wall."
I huff at his response. "Yeah, right. I'm a wall, apparently." The pain in my arm lessens, but I'm still angry at this dude.
"You're very interesting," he says, the corner of his mouth raised higher.
"I never knew bland walls can be so riveting," I retort.
"Who said you're bland?" he replies. He skates off and I just glare at him. What a jerk.
I join everyone on the skating rink and eventually catch up with Kara and Georgia, who are laughing at who-knows-what. "Who were you talking to? Your boyfriend?" Kara nudges me playfully.
I slap her hand away. "Why would that be my boyfriend?" I point to the boy, who's talking to a group of guys who appear to be his friends.
"He's cute!" Kara says loud enough for a guy to whip his head toward us. She giggles and I glare at her.
"Excuse me, he's like five years older than you." I look at the boy one more time after we pass him. He gives me a small smile, and then I look away. How dare he smile at me after what he did? "And anyways, he pushed me and I fell on my arm, which hurts. And he called me a wall."
Georgia laughs, and Kara giggles some more until she starts coughing. Georgia pats her no the back and I think, Why is Georgia so NICE?!
"That's hilarious," Kara says after taking a big, deep breath.
"You're just scoffing me like he was. I'm going to go Dad," I announce. I leave them behind and spot Dad and Keith by the vending machines. Keith inserts a dollar bill, takes his order, and gets a Coca Cola.
"Hey, Kayla." Dad hands me a Pepsi can.
"Hey," I respond. I take a long, slow drink of the soda. I cringe as the cold liquid makes its way down my throat. "How are things with you and Keith?" I ask when Keith wanders away to the skating rink.
"Fortunately, great," Dad responds with a grin. "I've never seen him happier."
"That's because," I say, "he really misses you. We all do. But he misses you the most."
Dad's smile expands. "It's great to hear that, especially coming from you." His smile falters and he looks at me with a serious expression. "Kayla, please understand that I am truly sorry." He must have known that I would have interrupted him, because he holds up a hand as I open my mouth. I close my mouth and let him talk. "I've always thought about you, Keith, Kara, and your Mom. You know what? I was afraid. Afraid that you guys will think different of me."
"Why?" I manage to inquire.
He rubs his eyes. "Let's sit down." We sit down on a bench, just like the one I sat on where I had the encounter with the boy. It has a purple cushion dotted with black polka-dots. "Like I was saying, I was afraid. Sure, there are many families that are divorced but are still happy. I thought it wouldn't work out with us. Because we all know your mom is a strong woman. When she sticks to an option, opinion, or idea, she never changes it no matter what."
"Tell me about it," I mumble.
He chuckles. "Anyways, your mom agreed to the divorce. I thought that now that we are divorced, she wouldn't want to see me again. Not even as friends." His mouth is set into a thin line, similarly like Mom's.
"Oh," is all I say. "I guess I'm sorry too." I know, I should have said something else, but I just leave it at that.
"You don't have to be sorry." Dad looks at the people in the skating rink. I think his gaze follows Georgia. She laughs half-heartedly.
"Dad, how did you fall in love with Georgia?" I ask as I rest my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around me and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
He takes a deep breath. "I suppose she told you about how we first met, right?" he asks. I nod. "Okay then. That night at dinner, Georgia seemed to have a calm nature, gentler than the one in the cafe. I also realized that she has a tender heart and great spirit. She's easy to talk to, cheery all the time...and lovable. Just how your mom used to be."
I look up at him. "Used to?"
He shifts a bit. "I know that after the divorce, your mom went into a state of misery. And I gotta confess; so did I. But when I met her in college, she was just like Georgia. Sweet, caring, passionate. Don't get me wrong--your mother's all of those things, but it just seems some of the spirit she had vanished into thin air."
"I get it," I say into his chest. Tears roll down my cheeks. But they're not mine. I look up back at Dad and realize that he's crying. I sit up, startled. "Dad, what happened?" I ask frantically as I wipe his tears. Dad never cries.
He shakes his head. "I just want things the way they used to be." He doesn't make a sound like people usually do when they cry. His tears just betray his tough posture. They tumble on his lap silently.
"Dad," I call him. He doesn't look at me. His eyes linger on the floor now.
He has been apologizing way too many times. And now he says, "I'm sorry."
"Dad, stop it. You don't have to be sorry for anything, okay? Please, stop. Don't you want to make me happy? Stop apologizing." I embrace him and sobs rack my body. "If you want to make me happy, please, stop saying sorry."
"It's the least I can do, Kayla. But just to make you happy, I'll stop."
I continue crying in his arms. I don't care if everyone can see us. I don't care if people are now looking at me strangely, wondering why I'm crying. I don't care.
All I care about is being with Dad.
***
"My leg hurts," Kara complains as we get into the car.
I smack her on the arm lightly. "How about me? A stranger pushed me. That's worse than falling on your own," I mutter. She shrugs as Keith closes the door.
Throughout the ride back home, I doze off, and unfortunately, have a dream.
My breath quickens as I run away from them. Heavy footsteps follow me. I try my best, using all of my energy to push myself forward. I don't want to get hurt. But they are fast. They can easily catch up to me.
The school is only yards away. I can go back and use it as a refuge from them. But I might not make it. My legs are aching from running so fast and so hard. My throat burns, parched. My chest feels like it's been caught on fire and was reduced to ashes. I blink back tears.
Ya Allah, please help me, I silently pray as I continue to run, slowing down a bit.
The footsteps come closer. I don't dare whip my head back and see who's behind me. All I know is that Nick's men are after me. I close my eyes shut after wondering what they'll do to me.
Stick to the positive things.
I make contact with the pavement. I groan in agony as a sharp pain shoots up my knee. I touch my knee and feel something warm. I then realize I'm bleeding. I feel a hand touch me. I wince. I get pulled up onto my feet and I am faced toward one of Nick's men.
He has handsome features, I got to admit. He has the same black hair and jaw I recognized of the guy who was with Stephanie. His blue eyes twinkle with amusement. He looks me up and down. Shivers go down my back, like someone poured cold water on me. I'd like that better than this. His lip curls into a sneer. "We finally got the girl. She's pretty fast," he acknowledges a buff guy to his left. The guy nods in agreement. He looks familiar...he must be in one of my classes.
"I have a name, Blake," I mutter under my breath.
"That's right. Kayla McGrady? Nick has always told me about you." He caresses my cheek. I smack his hand away bitterly. "Oh, you got some sass too." He snickers, his grip still tight on my arm. "You don't want to mess with me."
"How about if I will?" I scowl at him.
He looks at me menacingly. "No wonder Nick thought you were the right person for the job. Obviously, your not." Blake pushes me forward and I start walking ahead, Blake too close behind me. I stiffen as I am aware that he's not giving me enough space. Bastard.
"Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see," he replies abruptly. "Walk faster."
I comply to his order, because who knows, he must be carrying a revolver right now. And I, unfortunately, have nothing to injure him with.
My legs burn as I walk faster. I slow my pace after awhile.
"Do I have to carry you?" Blake asks furiously.
"Don't touch me, please." I'm being taken to an alley. The buildings are covered in graffiti. Trash cans lay around, ready to trip someone. Cigarettes litter the floor. The air smells like smoke, which burns my eyes. A few tears escape, betraying the veneer I'm trying to display. That I am tough and not afraid. But deep down inside, I'm terrified.
I take a shaky breath as Blake shoves me to a wall. He nods to the buff guy and tells him, "Keep an eye on her. I'm gonna go get Nick."
I grit my teeth in anger. I don't want to see that stupid, abusive jerk. I look around and feel the buff guy stare at me. Boring holes through my skull. I have no chance of escaping with this guy around.
I turn to the guy and twirl a lock of my hair. "Hey, handsome." God, I'm vomiting right now.
He looks at me in confusion and replies my hello uncertainly. He doesn't seem interested. I have to try harder if I want to escape this nightmare.
I clear my throat and say in a cheery voice, "I'm parched. Do you care to get me water?" I giggle unnecessarily. I feel so stupid right now.
He shakes his head. "Sorry."
I pout. "Aw, why not?" I try not to flinch as I lean towards him and graze his arm. "Are you going to leave a helpless girl like this?"
He nods. "Yeah."
I take a deep breath. This guy has either no respect towards girls, or has immense respect towards his bosses, Nick and Blake. I sigh desperately and fan my face. "I'm so hot."
"It's winter," he responds as if I'm an idiot.
I roll my eyes. "I know. Are you getting me water or not? I think your bosses would want me to be in the best condition once they...handle things." I continue to twirl my hair.
He sighs. "Fine. Stay here. If you try to escape, you better know that there are people everywhere just to make sure you don't run away." And with that, he walks into a building.
I shrug. He's obviously threatening me. He thinks that I'm that gullible?
I look around me. Once I make sure no one's around, I start running to a direction different from the one I was lead to, and different from the one I came from. My body still aches, but I move myself forward. I can't pass up this opportunity of escaping the hands of Nick and his goons.
I wish Zahra were here. She would have known what to do, I'm sure of it. I, on the other hand, went with the flirt card, which I am so not proud of.
I hit something hard, and I wince. I look up and my vision is blurred, but I see the outline of Nick. Subhanallah, how did he get here or see me? Beside him is Blake, hands in pockets. Of course. Stupid Blake.
I wipe the tears on my face, the same ones that tumbled down my cheeks in the smoke-filled alley.
"I told you she'll try," Blake says with a smirk.
Nick's expression is neutral. "Now, what should we do with her now that she's here?"
Blake shrugs. "Something that will make her regret for saying no."
"I don't want to be your bloody drug dealer, okay? I have better things to do than be your slave!" I shriek outraged.
Nick steps closer to me, and I step back. I step on something and lose my balance. I fall to the ground with a barely audible 'thud'. More pain shoots up my legs. More tears well in my eyes. That's it. I'm done. He steps closer and crouches down. "I know," he whispers. He turns to Blake. "The gun." Blake throws his gun to him. Nick turns it around precariously.
Next thing I know, I hear a bullet go off and someone screams my name.
"Kayla. Kayla. Kayla!" Someone shakes me almost too violently.
I sit up, the dream I just had seared into my mind. It was so vivid and real. Shivers go down my back, just like in the dream. I look up at Dad who looks at me worriedly. "Sweetie, are you okay? We're home."
I nod. "Sorry." I get out of the car, realizing that I'm the only one left in here. "I was exhausted so I took a nap."
Dad nods, unconvinced. He closes the car door and places a hand on my shoulder. "If you want to talk, let me know."
I nod back at him, even though I am certain that I won't tell him a thing.
***
Once I get to my room, telling my parents and Georgia that I am tired as heck (with Dad still dubious), I call Zahra. She has to know about my dream immediately. I am sure that she knows what to do.
"Assalamu Alaykum!" she greets cheerfully. "Wassup?"
"Wa Alaykum Salaam," I reply lamely. "We went skating, and on our way back home, I fell asleep."
"So...?" I can imagine Zahra rolling her eyes.
"Shut up. Anyways, I had a dream--scratch that, a nightmare--and," I let out a shaky breath, "I dreamed of Nick. And Blake. And this other buff dude who's way too gullible."
"What the-?" Zahra goes dead silent. She must be closing her eyes now, taking all of this in.
"And in the dream, Blake and the buff dude were chasing me. After they caught me, I was taken to an alley. Blake told the buff dude to keep watch of me while he went to get Nick. I eventually escaped, and then ran away. I bumped into Nick. He fired a gun, and I don't know where. I also heard someone scream my name."
Zahra breathes out into the phone. "Subhanallah, what a horrible dream! Alhamdulillah, since it wasn't real, but this is bad. Really bad." She sighs. "How are you going to go through this after the next five months?!"
I close my eyes shut and say in a calm voice, "I don't know. But if something bad happens, I will just have to tell Mom that I should just leave. She'll find out one way or another. And don't panic. Remember what you said about going through hardships? Well, this is my test, and after I face this obstacle, there will be relief."
"Inshallah," Zahra breathes out. "How can you be so freakin' calm?" she asks curiously, even though this is irrelevant to the situation.
"I know that Allah will help me if we make du'aa," I say quietly. "Inshallah," I add.
"Inshallah."
Even though I just had a terrifying dream, I'm afraid of the fact that it's possible to happen anytime soon.
***
After talking with Zahra on the phone and taking a short nap, (this one with no dreams of deranged people with guns), my eyes narrow as I get sent a text by the last person on Earth I would think I'd get a text from.
Nick.
I try to ignore the text and just block him, but his text is very tempting. Now that he is out to get me, I should know what he wants me to know, or I'll be missing out big time. I read the text and frown at it.
We need to talk. Right now.
What is so urgent to talk about right now? And why does he think I'll talk to him now that he somehow knows my big secret? I throw the phone on my bed and turn away from it, inching closer to my bedroom window. Again the scene of me and Nick sitting on the park bench appears before my eyes. I close them shut, not trying to think about him. But one thing I'm curious about is what he knows.
What does he know about me? What does he think of Muslims? Who even told him I'm Muslim--or how did he even find out? Questions and questions swirl in my head like a tornado, tossing things this way and that way. I just want to go back into my bed and fall asleep, forgetting the reality of this world.
But there's no such thing as forgetting something when you know it's real. Or so I think.
How can I easily be comfortable with a guy who saved me from such a fatal injury, and now despise the same person who now knows the real me? Or was it just a veneer? He tried to act all innocent, maybe, but he truly isn't. You can never be innocent once you face the reality of life.
Zahra's not innocent. She saw people getting tortured. It just pains me just to think of all that blood, gushing out of wounds. Cold limp bodies strewn across an alley. I can almost see this image as it formulates in my brain, an involuntary image I want to cease. But there's no possible way for me to put an end to Nick's wrongdoings.
I look back at my phone. What would Nick tell everyone now that he knows I'm Muslim? I don't want to be humiliated. I stretch my hand toward the phone. I can negotiate with him, persuade him not to tell anybody in return of a favor I'll do. My fingers wrap around my phone. I pick it up and send Nick a text.
Should we meet at the park?
***
End of the chapter... so yeah, sorry again that this was rushed, please vote and comment, and PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS!!! I really want to make these chapters like 10 pages long but I never seem to achieve that goal...So yeah...
Dedicated @LoveUnconditionally for being such an awesome writer. Check out her book Confessions of a Muslim Girl when you have the time.
Assalamu Alaykum and have a nice day. :)