Ghady & Rawan Read online

  “The mirror’s bigger in here and the light’s better. It’s way too dark in my room and my mirror doesn’t do the trick. Next time you’re in the bathroom, let’s set a timer and see who’s in there longer.” Rani says as he swaggers to his bedroom.

  Rawan’s mother comes up. “Calm down, Rawan. Can’t you stop this ridiculous bickering with Rani? You’re brother and sister. This isn’t how siblings treat each other. Besides, you do spend a lot of time in the bathroom.”

  Rawan’s mother turns to go back to the living room. She stops for a moment in front of Rawan’s bedroom door, which is open, and steps in to look around. Rawan watches her facial expressions and braces herself for what’s coming. This is going to be bad!

  “Your room looks like Ali Baba’s cave, Rawan. I don’t know how you can find anything in this mess.”

  “I promise, Mama, I’m going to clean up. I’m starting to clean, but . . . after I go to the bathroom . . .” She runs off.

  Rawan spends most of that day in her room, folding and hanging the clothes that are scattered everywhere. There hasn’t been time to do it lately, because of all the comings and goings—seeing Jad and Ghady and the kids in the neighborhood. Now, cleaning up helps her pass the time so she doesn’t get bored. Rawan tries on her school uniform. The skirt needs to be just a little longer. She will have to take it to the tailor—she doesn’t want to attract any unwanted comments on her first day back. She checks her books and notebooks and puts them in her bag. School is starting soon, and she wants to be sure she’s ready. Seeing the uniform and books helps her digest the idea of going back to school—unthinkable only a few days ago—and now she can enjoy the rest of her break.

  Rawan imagines her first day back: a different classroom, a new view from the window, a new teacher, and maybe new students . . . Some of the other kids say that the new material is really hard, and that she’ll have to study a lot to get good grades. She also heard it might depend on the teacher: some are generous with grades, while others take students to task for the tiniest mistakes. Rawan hopes her teacher this year will be nice.

  She misses her school friends so much!

  Rawan imagines seeing her friend Noor, who spent the summer at her dad’s in Dubai. She wants to hear what’s new with Maya, who went with her mom and brothers to Saudi Arabia, where her dad works. Karen definitely spent her break in France. She is so lucky! She gets to go there every summer, because her mom has French citizenship. As usual, Raed spent time in the village, at his family home, which is surrounded by a beautiful garden. He barely comes to Beirut all summer, since he doesn’t like going to the sea when it’s hot. He likes to stay up in the mountains, visiting his relatives and playing with the other kids.

  Rawan is thrilled to see a new e-mail from Ghady! She starts to write her answer before she even finishes reading it.

  Thursday, September 4, 2008

  Dear Ghady,

  I feel the same in Beirut—it’s been cold and empty since you left. I am so bored! Just imagine, yesterday I went to bed early for the first time in like two months . . . I’m trying to keep busy by organizing my room (which makes Mama happy) plus getting ready for school. I’m glad you’re finally enjoying the peace and privacy of your room. The important thing is that you don’t forget your friends . . . Jad called this morning, and he’s missing you a lot. I’ll tell him you said hi. We’re going to meet soon at Uncle Fareed’s and eat pistachio ice cream . . . mmm . . . mmmm . . . The poor Belgians are deprived of Uncle Fareed’s ice cream . . . Ha ha ha ☺.

  Wish you were here . . .

  Best,

  Rawan

  ENCOUNTERS

  GHADY HAS BEEN at Union School ever since his first year of elementary. It’s a school for kids from all different countries who live with their families in Belgium, with classes taught in English. On his first day there, Ghady felt as if he were suffocating, and he’s had the same feeling every first day since. When he was little, he would cry and tell his mom not to leave him—to bring him home with her. Now he’s thirteen, and of course he doesn’t cling to his mother any more. But the same feeling still pushes its way up.

  When he gets to the playground, he looks around to find his best friend Daniel. It’s chaos. So much noise. All the kids are caught up in the excitement of seeing each other. Then he spots Daniel waving to him. Ghady smiles and runs to meet his friend.

  “Daniel!”

  The boys hug, and their other friends show up around them: Matthias and Charlotte and Liza.

  Everybody rushes to say hi and tell their news and hear stories about the summer vacation.

  “You got so tan!” Charlotte tells Ghady.

  “I spent a lot of time at the beach. And the summer sun in Lebanon is really scorching.”

  “You’re lucky,” Charlotte says. “I didn’t go to the sea even once this summer. I stayed at my grandpa’s house in northern France, and it rains all the time there. Ugh, it was so bad!”

  Ghady and his friends swap a lot of news. Daniel talks about his trip to Ireland, where he met his mom’s grandfather, who is 99 years old. Matthias tells them about Greece, and Liza about Rome.

  The bell rings, interrupting their conversations.

  “This is the worst part of school. Back to the classroom!” Matthias says.

  They all laugh, and Liza says sarcastically that she’s jumping for joy. “I mean, aren’t you happy? We’ll meet our eighth-grade teacher today. Yay.”

  Their laughter follows them into the classroom.

  Like every year, Ghady picks a seat next to Daniel—they take two seats in the front row. The English teacher comes with a smile so wide it makes her tiny eyes almost completely disappear. “Welcome, everyone, to this new year. I am happy to see mostly familiar faces. I do notice three new students sitting in the back. You are welcome in our class . . .”

  Ghady whispers to Daniel as he turns to look at the new kids: “And here’s Ms. Laura, as usual, so eager to be back at work in the new year.”

  First period seems endless. The teacher explains their weekly schedule in great detail and tells them what they’ll do in English class this year. Then, after Ms. Laura’s period, the bell rings two more times before announcing the first break.

  On the playground, Ghady sees one of the new students sitting on a bench, so he goes up to find out more about him.

  “I’m Thomas,” the new kid answers.

  “Where were you last year?”

  “I’m from Denmark. We moved here at the beginning of the summer because of my mom’s work.”

  While Ghady and Thomas talk about life in Brussels and the school, Matthias and Daniel come up, curious about the new kid. Ghady feels that their interrogation is making Thomas nervous. They already got out of him that he has an older brother studying at a university in London, and that he lives with his mom. No dad in the house. Thomas doesn’t say why. Ghady feels lucky that he, his parents, and his sister all live together in one house. About half the kids at his school have divorced parents, with the dad in one country and the mom in another. Ghady is always surprised when he hears that a kid has gone his whole life without ever having seen his dad. How could that be? You never heard about things like that in Lebanon. Plus, families there weren’t just a mom, dad, brothers, and sisters, but also grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

  Later that day, during the afternoon break, Ghady sits with Daniel in a corner of the playground, talking about different stuff. “I spent a lot of time with my cousin Jad at this one mall by the house, where they have all kinds of video games.”

  “Honestly? I didn’t know you guys had malls and places where kids could go and play video games.”

  “Oh, Lebanon has everything. Beirut’s just like any modern city. We also have the sea, and the mountains, and beautiful weather most of the yea—”

  A voice behind Ghady interrupts him.

  “You’re lying! Your country is ugly and dirty. Plus, there are terrorists.”

  Gha
dy knows the voice before he turns to see its source. Michael. He’s in ninth grade this year, and Ghady has known him ever since he first came to this school, seven years ago. He’s used to Michael’s insults. Any time Ghady is out enjoying himself on the playground, Michael will come and try to bother him. Today, Ghady decides to ignore the irritating comment and not let himself be provoked. He doesn’t want to face Michael. Inevitably, it will lead to a fight, and the first day of school is not exactly the right time for a fistfight. Ghady ignores the comments, and he hears a loud, mocking laugh as Michael walks away. He also hears him yell: “Know what? You’re a coward. Hahaha, you can’t even defend yourself and your country. Hahaha!”

  After Michael’s comments, Ghady feels wound up. He tries to hide it, but Daniel can see he’s upset. “Don’t let him get to you,” he says, trying to comfort Ghady. “He just wants to get under your skin.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Ghady says. “Come on, let’s shoot some hoops before the bell rings.”

  By the time Ghady gets home, he’s exhausted. New teachers, a lot of classes, and classmates both old and new. Finally, he can take off his school clothes and relax.

  That evening, Ghady makes sure his bag is ready for the next day. After dinner with his family, he washes up and gets ready for bed. He thinks about Rawan and Jad. A few days ago, he was with them, living a totally different life.

  He finds the email from Rawan.

  Tuesday, September 9, 2008

  Dear Rawan,

  Enjoy eating the ice cream . . . And have some pistachio for me. It’s my favorite. ☺

  Today was the first day of school in the new year. I was super happy to see Daniel—he’s my good friend here, who I told you about. Eighth grade seems really hard. This year, we’re going to study chemistry and physics. God help us!

  Plus Rawan . . . there’s something bugging me at school that I didn’t tell you about before. Like I said, I’m the only Arab student. Some of the kids don’t like me, and some of them even hate me, because my name is weird and my hair isn’t blond and straight. Okay, to be specific, there’s one kid, Michael, who really bothers me. My mom is always telling me to ignore him, but sometimes I just want to scream in his face. I mean, I want to tell him I love being an Arab and I love my country.

  From now on, I’m not going to let him mock my name and how I look. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it makes me wish I could live with you guys in Lebanon.

  But right now, let’s forget him. I miss you guys. Tell me more about Jad, because calling him on the phone is so expensive. Do you guys still meet without me? Is he still spending his free time at the mall? Ha. I remember how mad my aunt was when we stayed there for hours and hours, spending all our money!

  Rawan, I’m waiting for your news, so don’t take forever to answer.

  Yours,

  Ghady

  Ghady re-reads his email. Then he smiles and hits send.

  TIME MACHINE

  RAWAN POPS THE CD into her computer and starts listening to the songs that she recorded at the music store in town. She bops while softly singing the first song’s lyrics, then, as she moves to the second, her voice climbs higher and higher. It feels good to be alive. She grabs her pencil case, brings it close to her mouth like a microphone, and starts belting out the words. For a few moments, it’s her song, she’s on stage, and her body sways along with the rhythm. What a strange power music has over me! It carries us up, up, and above—into a completely different world.

  Rawan hears a light knock on her door. It opens, and Kumari--their housekeeper--pokes her head in. “Your mom, turn it down. She try sleep. Wow, song so good. I want copy, too. Pleaaase,” she says in her broken Arabic.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll make a copy for you.” Rawan smiles as she turns down the volume.

  She decides to log into her email. A new message! Rawan lights up at Ghady’s email. Over there in Belgium, the school year starts early. Over here, we’re lucky; we get a few extra vacation days before we start. Although honestly, what’s the point? The school year is so hard and exhausting, and we never get a break. Even during the holidays, we have so much homework that you have to do it every day in order to finish, so it’s not really a vacation, just school days in disguise.

  Although she’s happy, Rawan is also worried about what she reads in Ghady’s email. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned that he’s the only Arab in his entire school. He must be missing Lebanon as usual, and needing time to get over the distance. She sits at her desk and starts to type.

  Thursday, September 11, 2008

  My friend Ghady,

  I was thrilled to read your email. You’ll have to wait a few days before I can tell you about my first day back, because I’m still on vacation. ☺ I miss our outings and our endless chats. I hope this year flies by so it’s summer again and we can hang out. I wonder when someone will actually invent a time machine—I mean, we’ve heard enough about it in movies and books. Everyone would definitely want one.

  You know what I think? The kids who make fun of you are actually jealous. They’re jealous of your good looks and your tanned skin. My friend Karen always tells me about how so many Europeans long for darker hair and skin. Supposedly they plan trips just so they can get that bronzed look. Think of it like that. Don’t give them the time of day and ignore their comments, just like your mom says. Let them find out for themselves how funny and sweet you are.

  Jad sends you a big hello. Imagine, he’s totally ready to spend hours glued to his computer screen, but he finds it hard to write a two-minute email. He’s busy getting ready for school and is spending ages in crowded bookstores to get his textbooks. I’m smarter than him, because I escaped the lines by buying my books at the start of the summer from a girl who just finished eighth grade. I bought them at half the price and the girl even gave me her notes and old tests!

  That’s all my news. As usual, I’ve rambled on a little . . . even though this is an email and not me talking aloud. I miss you.

  Uncle Fareed sends you a special hello—he asked us about our curly-haired friend. ☺

  Keep writing!

  Your friend, Rawan

  P.S. I don’t enjoy pistachio ice cream as much as I used to. I wonder why.

  NO TITLE

  GHADY SPEED-READS through a chapter they are supposed to discuss in class, then slips his book and notebook into his schoolbag.

  “Finally done!” Ghady says to himself. “And now to the computer.”

  He checks his email. He smiles when Rawan’s name pops up on the first message. Finally, she’s replied. He’s been waiting two days for her to answer. He skims through the lines. He flushes when he gets to the part where she says that he’s good-looking. It makes him happy, and he hurries to answer, even though it’s late and his parents think he’s asleep.

  Thursday, September 11, 2008

  Rawan,

  Your time machine idea is both clever and practical. We just have to invent it! For now, I guess email will do.

  You guys are lucky. Hasn’t school started yet? How is that fair? Why don’t they give us a longer summer vacation?

  Last time, I forgot to tell you that I’m starting to learn the oud. I have a lesson next week. My mom signed me up at the Arab Center for Arts and Culture in Brussels. She wanted to sign me up for Arabic lessons, too, but I said no. I still haven’t changed my mind—it’s so hard. I have a lot of classes this year, and I just won’t have time to study Arabic. I know what you think. I remember the last day we spent in the tree house, when you tried to teach me to write my name in Arabic, so I could carve it into the tree next to yours and Jad’s. Maybe next summer you can teach me how to write the letters and some simple words. Okay?

  Ghady wants to write more, but he hears his dad’s voice calling from the living room: “Ghady! Why is the light still on? Get to bed, please. No staying up on a school night.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He adds a last sentence, saying goodbye to hi
s friend, then sends it with the sign-off:

  Ghady, your friend forever

  THE FIRST DAY

  IT’S THE FIRST day of school. Rawan steps into the schoolyard, eager to meet her friends. She hasn’t seen them for the whole summer, and the only contact they had was a few emails. She turns to the right, then to the left, hoping to catch sight of one of them. She came early to find out which homeroom she’d be in, and which of her classmates would be with her. More importantly, she’s excited to hear her friends’ updates and the details of what went down over the summer.

  She heads to the entrance of the building and straight to the bulletin board that has lists of homerooms with each student’s name. She gets closer and starts reading:

  Grade 8 Homerooms

  Section A

  Section B

  Section C

  Rawan keeps scrolling down the lists. It takes a while to find her name and the names of her friends. How interesting. Soon, she smiles as she reads aloud, “Maya, Noor, Raed, Rawan, Karen . . . yay!” She jumps for joy. This year, we’ll all be together again.

  A few minutes later, her friends start streaming into the schoolyard, one after the other. High-pitched squeals ensue, along with hugs and kisses as they all realize they are in the same homeroom.

  Like at the start of every year, Noor puts her hand in her bag to pull out the new cellphone her dad bought her during her trip to Dubai. “Guys, look! It’s from the newest mall in Dubai. The most expensive and latest model. It won’t be available here for another few months—that’s what they told us at the store.” Then she adds proudly, “I’m probably the first person in Lebanon to own this phone. It has a lot of cool features that I’ll tell you about later. I’ve got to hide it now before the principal catches me with it.” She puts the phone back in her bag. “My dad also bought me clothes and tons of other stuff, all from the best shops. He loves me so much!”

  That’s Noor all right, Rawan thinks. She’ll never change. Obsessed with designer this, designer that.