"The chief danger in life is that you may take too many precautions."~Alfred Adler.
Turns out I didn't really need to face it. The school decided that I'd had more than enough absences, even though my father had told them that every day I took off served a purpose: I needed time to heal. In the end, my father pulled me out of the school before they had the chance to kick me out and arranged for me to attend a different school, in a different district. The new academic year would start off with a fresh start, he promised me but it took convincing before the last time someone made a promise to me, they had broken it. The people in school must have known about me but I wasn't the talk of the school the way I would have been had I continued to attend my old one.
I was still lonely and by the time recess came about I was ready to get my lunch and head out alone. We had long outgrown dresses and while the boys sported brown pants and white button-downs tucked in, reminiscent of British-India and colonization (the shirts rarely stayed tucked in though), girls were expected to wear a shalwar along with a knee-length tunic we called a kameez, and a dupatta that served as a scarf over our breasts to preserve the modesty so central to our culture.
The day seemed to stretch on forever and by the time recess came about I was physically exhausted as well as mentally. We didn't have lockers but neither did we have any fewer books than any other student in the world. We were expected to carry our books everywhere with us and it had become a sort of unofficial tradition to carry bags that exceeded us in both size and weight. We might as well have been ants because the more books you had, the better you worked and the smarter you were. Only the biggest of the nerds brought books that weren't necessary; it was like paying for extra tutors. It also meant that only the richest could invest in it, and I refused to spend money on books that weren't required by the curriculum and hence I kept my father oblivious to these impervious circumstances. It was for his own good.
I chose to settle myself in the corner with my lunch, if bread and butter counted as lunch, and a stick to draw in the ground. I couldn't say I had any particularly noticeable artistic talents but the act itself was fun and I was content drawing pictures in the medium my dead brother's body had integrated itself into. It felt as if I was drawing for my brother and I could almost hear his comments in my head. When he was in particularly good moods he wouldn't tease me about my drawings but instead act as if I had surpassed Picasso himself. I found it funny because Omar didn't have any particular taste for art but he told me that he knew a good drawing when he saw one. I drew him a portrait of us this time and decided I'd leave it there for him to admire. I drew it flipped, a mirror image, because if he would see it from under the ground then it would be clearer for him. I wrote our names on top of our heads and a tiny "I miss you" along with it. I caught a solitary tear just in time; if someone saw it fall here I wouldn't be spared. I continued to draw, adding a sun in the top-right corner of my imaginary canvas and froze when someone came and kicked the stick from grip. I must have been too late with the tear.
"Crying for your drunkard of a brother?" It was the school bully, Ali. Of course it was.
"I'd appreciate it if you left me alone." I replied, picking up my stick again and gathering my Dora the Explorer lunch box. I didn't get very far, because he was quicker than me and snatched my box from my hand. I painfully watched him take my slice of bread splattered with butter and stuff the whole thing in his mouth at once.
"If you steal my lunch then you should at least bother to savor the taste." I said, too frustrated to really bother putting up a fight.
"If you're a little worm then at least you should bother keeping yourself in the ground with your brother's rotting corpse."
"I literally wasn't doing anything else."
"If you miss him so much, then why don't you join him?"
I noticed a crowd congregating behind Ali and I had to admit that a bit of panic had begun to rise in my chest.
"We can just go about our day and ignore each other's existence. There's no need to be violent about it." I said.
"Well, where's the fun in that?" He said.
"We can be civilized about this, Ali." I said, taking a step back. I didn't get far because there was a hoard of spectators behind me, watching us like it was a dogfight. They enclosed us in a make-shift ring, so it seemed like a well-awaited boxing match, except I didn't want to be anywhere near here and I wasn't anticipating a fight at all.
You'd think there'd be a 'fight, fight, fight' in the background but it wasn't like that. People were crueler than that. There was a chorus of 'ooh's and 'aah's every time Ali said something they found interesting and laughed at every step forward he took and every step back I did. Egging him on rather than egging us both. Their version of entertainment was a sick one, where it wasn't supposed to be an equal fight. They were like Romans, content with tying someone down and sending them to their doom.
"You're a coward." He taunted.
"I'm just being civil." I said.
"You're a coward, like your drunk brother." I knew he was trying to get under my skin, but I was ashamed to admit that it was working.
"Keep my brother out of this." I said, losing my patience.
"Or what? Are you gonna hit me?"
And then I did the most stupid thing I've ever done. I laughed. And not just because it reminded me of a video that had been circulating the internet, and not because the situation itself was insane. I did it because I wanted to. He was dumb to think that I had any other option, that hitting a boy twice my weight would have done anything, but I decided to take that long shot. That one twist to unnerve him.
"No, Ali. If a punch did anything at all to you I would have done it already. No, I'm going to do much, much worse."
I suppose my plan worked, because he did the only thing his little brain could process fast enough. He punched me. I went flying and landed on my butt a feet or two back. Blood pooled around my nose and I was ready to burst into tears with the pain but I held back because I knew I'd have the chance to cry all I wanted later.
"Her puny brother couldn't land a punch and neither can she." Ali said. "Little weaklings they are, aren't they?"
I had already gotten myself into a mess this deep, I might as well fight back. I launched myself at him, imagining to land one forceful palm onto his chest and crush his ribcage but the dreams must have been too good to be true because nothing happened. My fist just landed on the squish on his stomach and rebounded so I took the few seconds I had from his initial surprise that I had actually gotten up and clawed his face with my nails. Good thing they were long. He yelled in pain, shaking me off before landing a punch right on my temple and well and truly knocking me out.
I woke up in the nurse's office, unsure how I got there. The nurse bustled in and pressed ice to my nose, tilting my head up to try and stop the bleeding.
"Is it broken?" I asked. She looked surprised.
"That isn't usually what girls usually ask when they wake up after a fist-fight." She replied.
"What do they ask, then?"
"They don't usually wake up from a fist-fight."
I nodded. "Right."
"No, it's not broken, but it's going to hurt. That's a nasty punch you took there." She went over to the side-table and handed me a pain-killer.
"You'll be alright, you'll just need some paracetamol and-"
"Ice?" I finished.
I could tell she was amused. "Ice." She confirmed. "It's not too bad. Might leave a mark, but it's a good thing that twelve-year-olds can't really punch hard." She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye.
I turned away, embarrassed. "I saw a chance and I took it. I might as well have given it my all."
"Yes, well you won't be in the principal's good books but I can't say I blame you. It's not the first time your little adversary has sent someone to the Nurse's office."
"That's reassuring to hear." I said and she chuckled.
"It's been easy for now, the real fight comes after. You might want to prepare yourself."
"Eh." I said. "I'm used to getting caught in the cross-fire."
The walk to the principal's office was torture. I fought the urge to run away but decided that I may as well face the consequences I had brought upon myself. So with my head held up high I marched into the office and froze. My father was there.
My. Father. Was. There.
"Natasha." My principal was an old man, near bald and had a significant pot belly but his voice radiated authority only because we had no other choice but to obey.
"Take a seat." he said. It took me a minute to process his request but I finally forced my feet to move and perch myself on the seat next to my father. I looked across the room to see Ali and his father. So they would be involved too. I really hadn't expected it to be this serious. After all it was only my first day, it's not like I had caused trouble before.
"It's Natasha's first day and she seems to have already found herself in trouble." I winced. I hadn't expected my main argument to be turned on me like that already.
"But Principal Shuja-"
"We have a zero tolerance policy and you know that. I'm sure your father knows it too."
"Ali started it-"
"I'm sure you're better than that. To find a girl in a fight? It's unheard of."
"He punched me first. You're not going to stop him from hitting girls?" I protested.
"He's just a boy." Ali's father said. "And boys will be boys. Look what your daughter has done to my son." He turned to my father. "Scratches all over his face. It's going to leave the ugliest scars."
"It was self-defense." My father coolly stated. "He did leave my daughter with a bloody nose after all."
"So what? I said boys will be boys. I think you need to teach your daughter some manners and self-control. A temper like that is going to land her in some hot mess, it will." Ali's father said.
"I strongly disagree-" I started.
"Enough. Both of you will serve detention and you lose points from your cumulative at the end of the year."
"The law states that self-defense is a sufficient enough reason for this. I don't think my daughter intended to hurt anybody."
"Then she needs to have that temper of hers controlled. A woman with a mind like hers won't go too far in life, I can assure you that Mr. Khan."
My father didn't say anything else after that, instead answering with a nod and choosing to lead me out of the office. Telling anyone that I was angry was an understatement. Omar would have fought louder, harder and my father had agreed with my devil of a principal and decided that I needed to be taken home. I seethed all the way to the car, but on the way I spotted a boy. Skinnier, with dark hair and as our eyes met I saw him smile, just a bit but it was there and I think I felt myself smile back.
The car ride was uncomfortably silent. I waited for my father to break the ice but he chose to ignore the elephant in the room, or car in this case, and turn on the radio to listen to some jazz music that may sound nice to him, but all it did was make me want to pull my hair out from the roots. I finally took the initiative and broke the silence.
"I thought you'd stand up for me."
"I thought I did." he said.
"You agreed with him! I won't go far in life? All because I took my stand against a bully?"
"There's no point trying to argue with a man with a closed mind. I would have been talking to a wall."
"I'm going to have points deducted for something that wasn't even my fault. Everyone saw the fight. They knew it wasn't my fault. What else should I have done?"
"I know sweetheart, but it would have been better if you had fallen back."
"I was trapped."
He sighed and I knew he was at a loss for words. "You remind me of your brother. Him and I didn't see exactly eye-to-eye with these kind of things either."
"We are your children, after all." I huffed.
My father chuckled. "You do have a knack for finding yourself in awkward situations, just like your brother. But in times like these, we have to stay on the right side of the law, even if it means taking a hit or two."
"What if there is no law?"
"There's always a law." He said. Damn him and his wisdom. "It might not always be implemented but they were established to keep us safe, and we need to respect that."
"Ali didn't do that." I said.
"I know, but we can't point fingers. We all do our bit and that's what counts."
"You're treating me like a child." I said. "I know all of this, but you and I both know that this isn't the problem. What if...what if I'm being violated? Aren't I allowed to fight back?"
He sucked in a breath. "Let's not talk about this-"
"No." I said. "Let's do talk about this. What am I supposed to do?"
There was a very long pause. Then: "I spent years protecting people. That was my job in the military, to make sure civilians were always safe. I'd be on the receiving end of the gun, but more often than not I'd find my finger on the trigger and sometimes it was a shot I had to take to protect the people I loved."
"But you said that you protected mother by opting out of the military."
"If I died in action, she'd have no one to lean on. Like I said, sometimes retreating is the best option." He smiled weakly.
I let the moment sink in. "You still haven't answered my question."
"The truth is, I don't have an answer to your question. Sometimes you have to do what has to be done."
"That doesn't make any sense-"
"It will, when the time comes. I just trust you'll do the right thing."
The jazz filled up the silence the rest of the way home.