Two Love

Chapter 4

Wild winds howled outside, making trees sway and lose their leaves. This racket was what made Marty wake up an hour early on Saturday morning. He cracked open his bedroom window out of curiosity and was confronted with a frigid blast of wind blowing briskly into his face. As he snapped the window shut, his phone pinged with a text.

Hassan: can u pick up my sis today

Hassan: shes starting at your badminton club

This wasn't a surprise to Marty – Hassan was always telling him about his sister's aptitude for the sport and how he should play a game with her someday. Maybe he'd get around to it now that she had been promoted to county competing level.

Marty: yeah ofc

Half an hour later, Mum made a stop at the Patel house. Parisa appeared at the door and took a seat in the back of the car.

"Hi, I'm Tina, Marty's mum! You must be Parisa." The girl replied with a quiet 'uh-huh'.

"So, Parisa, how long have you been playing badminton for?"

"I've been playing for just over ten years now," Parisa replied, fiddling with her black hijab.

"Wow, that's awesome!" said Mum. "Marty here..."

"I managed to get into the county competing level after six years of playing badminton," he interrupted, trying not to sound too smug, "you could say I'm a bit of a prodigy."

Okay, maybe that was a little too arrogant. But it was true.

"What subjects are you studying at school?" said Mum, changing the subject with an evil glare at Marty.

"I'm doing RE, PE, History and Business Studies as my options. Then I have to do English and Maths, unfortunately. Not 'English unfortunately' – I love reading – but Maths is horrible."

The rest of the journey consisted of this general get-to-know-you-better chatter that left Marty with the conclusion that, like her older brother, Parisa was a bashful bookworm. 

*

After the badminton training, Marty sat with the usual boys (Euan and Gregor) for the ten-minute snack break on the bench. He invited Parisa too, as Hassan had told him to take care of her.

As Marty got out his Boost bar, he was surprised to see Parisa getting out the biggest fruit salad he'd ever seen.

"How many fruits are in it?" asked Marty.

"Ten," replied Parisa, "pineapple, pear, apple, orange, mango, melon, grape, kiwi, strawberry and blueberry. Soaked in tropical juice."

Marty's mouth watered. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, this morning. Would you like one for future badminton training sessions? One salad is 50p."

Marty nodded enthusiastically, and added: "Minus the melon, though. Sounds like you got yourself a small business!"

"I'm hoping to turn it into a proper small business," said Parisa with a smile,"I would call it Super Fruit Salads and sell it to friends and local shops."

Suddenly, Marty's face contorted in pain. He stood up quickly, hands over his stomach, and rushed towards the toilets, leaving a perplexed Parisa on her own.

Tummy pains like he'd never known before were overtaking his body, and he was wishing that he'd told his mum what he'd been too embarrassed to say earlier – that he was very constipated. In vain he tried to rid himself of the blockage. He couldn't very well play badminton like this – he'd have to persevere.