The Girl in The Green Scarf

F o r t y - f i v e | Hamsa

C H A P T E R

45

- H a m s a -

I stand, shivering and cold, as the door behind me slams open and Lamees barges in, waving her hands up in the air.

I want a blanket, or maybe to slip back into my bed under the covers. Anything to tame the chills surging through my body. But I know it isn't possible.

No matter how much I want what just happened to be a nightmare, the fact is, it happened; my Uncle is alive, and he came back to tell me he and his comrades are planning a revolution that could kill us all.

Lamees swings me about, taking me into her arms in a crushing hug.

"There is the bride," she sings joyfully, digging her fingers into my back--the feeling is further proof that I am wide awake.

The air in the room shifts drastically as if someone suddenly switched the station on the radio.

"I can't believe you are getting married!" She shouts.

All the while thoughts are bouncing in my mind, and I know I have to calm down.

Over Lamees' shoulder, I see Yahiya standing in the doorway, a hand dug into his jeans pocket and the other holding a mug.

"Lamees I think you are suffocating her," he says, grinning over the rim.

Then Lamees lets go of me, but not because of Yahiya's comment. She sees the dress and starts squealing.

"Oh, my Allah! Is that...? It is! Oh, my Allah it is beautiful!"

She picks it up like it's made of fragile eggshells and places it on her torso. "I swear Fatima outdid herself this time. This dress is gorgeous! Did you try it on?"

I stare at her, silent and fazed. But she somehow mistakes my silence for excitement. She spreads the dress on my unmade bed and after staring at it in awe for a moment takes both my hands and starts jumping.

"You are getting married tomorrow!"

"Lamees I-" I want to tell her I am not feeling well, that I think I'm going to throw up, or maybe even pass out, but she doesn't give me a chance.

"Why are you not dressed for the gathering?" She says chasteningly, narrowing her eyes at me.

"She looks fine to me," Yahiya says, sipping his tea.

"That's exactly the problem! She's supposed to look hideous, not pretty."

"Lamees, am seriously not up for this, can we just skip it?" I ask, and again she is oblivious to the tremor in my voice.

She sucks in a deep breath in shock. "Hamsa! You don't mean that! We can't skip a tradition. Come on we have to get you ready before the girls get here."

"I don't get this tradition, what's the point of making the bride look her worst on the day before the wedding?" Yahiya asks.

Look my worst? I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window glass and think there won't be any trouble for me there; I already look ghastly--like I've just seen a ghost. Which I actually did.

"So she'll feel even prettier the next day, duh!"

Yahiya wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, prompting an eye roll from Lamees.

"You're a dude, you won't get it."

I guess Lamees' excitement hasn't only made her oblivious to my state, but also made her immune to her usual nervousness around Yahiya.