Coming of Age on Planet Earth

Chapter 4

A rooster crows somewhere nearby. In the distance, a voice chants through a loudspeaker: Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!

As my eyes adjust to the light, I remember where I am, and every nerve in my body starts to tingle. I smell the smells again. I feel the energy in the air again.

Until I hear Waldo snorting in the bed next to mine, and then I see him drooling on his pillow with his hands down his pants. I can't believe they're making me share a room with that pig.

Stepping quietly out of bed, I get my jeans and a fresh T-shirt and tiptoe into the bathroom, where one look in the mirror almost brings me to tears.

My hair's sticking out in all directions—and it's full of dust. I need to shower, but first I have to explore. I have to at least look around outside.

After pissing, brushing my teeth and applying deodorant, I set to work on the curls—squirting a little gel into my palm and distributing it with my comb, then tucking the hair under the rim of my cap and carefully positioning several strands in a haphazard arrangement in front of my eyes.

Perfect.

There's a bang at the door. "Hurry up!" Waldo shouts. "I gotta piss!"

"I'm almost done!" I say.

"Hurry the fuck up!" He bangs harder and I feel the rage swelling.

"I said I'm almost done!"

I glower at him as I open the door and he shoves past me, not even bothering to close the door behind him before he starts to piss. Probably getting piss all over the toilet seat too. God, I hate him.

I slam the door and I hear the voice still chanting in the distance. I think it's some Muslim thing—some sort of morning prayer. I look out the window in the direction of the chanting and my whole body jolts at the sight of a shirtless black man standing outside the window, staring right at me through the metal bars.

He's carrying a machete in one hand, and he waves at me with the other, his mouth stretching into a crocodilian grin. Trembling, I wave back. He says something but I can't hear him through the glass.

I flinch as Waldo kicks the bathroom door open. "Guess what?" he says. "There's no fucking hot water!"

I turn back to the window and the man's gone. Waldo yanks on his cap and pulls on his sneakers then says, "This is bullshit. I gotta talk to Mom and Dad about this."

He storms out of the room and across the hallway, while I follow, the image of the man's creepy grin stuck in my head.

Mom's sitting up in bed, reading Born for Love: Reflections on Loving. Dad's sitting next to her with a coffee mug in one hand and a Time magazine in the other. Ellie's snuggled up to his shoulder, eating what looks like an orange.

"There's no hot water!" Waldo says.

Dad winces and lowers the magazine. "You don't have to shout, Waldo. We know full well there's no hot water. We talked about this back in Canada. And remember, you mustn't drink the cold water from the taps either. There are bottles of boiled water in the kitchen for drinking if you're thirsty."

Waldo dramatically slaps his face with both hands and drags his fingers down his cheeks. "This just keeps getting better and better! How the heck am I supposed to have a shower if there's no hot water?"

Dad turns back to the magazine and clears his throat. "You'll have a cold shower, Waldo, won't you?"

"I am not having a cold shower!" Waldo says.

"Why don't you have some breakfast?" Mom says, pointing to the tray on Ellie's lap.

"Try the papaya," Ellie says. "It's divine."