Ali looks for Khalifa when he gets to school on Sunday but he doesn't spot him until their first break (15 minutes, which is bullshit).
He's sitting on a bench, typing away on his laptop.
"What are you doing?" Ali asks, nudging him with his leg. Khalifa makes room for him on the bench.
"Forgot to email this stupid essay."
Ali glances at the screen and whistles. "Two thousand words. Didn't think you had it in you."
"Shut up." Khalifa scans through the last of the document before emailing it away. He shuts his laptop and slumps against the wall. "I'm so getting 10% off."
"Are you going to be at soccer practice?"
"Fuck, I forgot about that. Dude, my mom found out that I drove around on Friday and she's still giving me shit for it."
"Seriously? How did she find out?"
"She saw me get home," Khalifa scowls. "Through the window."
Ali laughs. "Oh, shit. Are you grounded?"
"More or less. I'm not sure I can make it to soccer practice."
Ali's disappointed. He wants to show off his skills during practice, and have Khalifa around to rub it in his face. Honestly, he just has more fun when Khalifa's around. He's best friends with him for a reason.
"Did you study for calc?"
"Yeah, did you?"
Ali shakes his head. "Alia insisted we watch Harry Potter and we ended up binge watching the entire series."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I barely slept."
"What the fuck."
"I know, it's so dumb." Ali remembers his mother's face when she found them dead tired on the living room floor this morning, a fort made out of blankets and pillows long collapsed around them, and how she went on for ages about wasting time, staying up, and how a bad sleeping pattern can hinder their health. He doesn't ever want to go through that again.
"I can't believe you had a marathon without me, you fucker."
Ali yawns. "I'm so tired."
"Good. I'm not helping you on that quiz."
Ali groans. "Seriously? I swear I'll help you with English on Thursday."
Khalifa makes a face. "I'm good at English."
"I'm better."
"Fuck you, we're equal."
Ali shoves his body against Khalifa's so that his friend almost topples over.
"That was uncalled for."
"Help me get an A and I won't push you again."
During lunch break (thirty minutes, thank fuck), Khalifa and Ali stand in the boys' toilets carving formulas onto bits of papers they can slip under their long-sleeved shirts. Khalifa's head is bent forward over a scrap of paper, and Ali is watching him scrawl numbers and letters in the smallest handwriting possible. "This is insane."
Khalifa looks up and grins at him, and Ali swears he's the devil. Shaitan reincarnated in human form, something out of the lessons they've had drilled in their minds as children. Ali's father used to say that if he didn't cover his mouth while he was yawning shaitan would piss in his mouth. His mother would say that if he lied, shaitain would slice his tongue out with a knife. Ali would imagine a long row of tongues hanging on a rope, like clothes on a laundry line, and his tongue would be smack center of the line.
"Not my fault you decided not to study."
Ali widens his eyes. "I didn't decide."
"Give me your arm, idiot," Khalifa holds his hand out and Ali gives him his arm.
With rough hands, Khalifa rolls up his sleeve and positions the paper on his arm, then pulls down the sleeve. "Roll up your sleeve whenever you need to and make sure no one's around."
Khalifa's fingers run over the place where the paper is tucked underneath his shirt and smiles at him. "You're welcome."
Ali looks away, praying he passes the quiz, even though he knows what he's doing is technically haram so who the hell knows if Allah's even listening to him.
-
Without Khalifa at soccer practice, Ali has to look for someone to partner up with for warm-ups. Thankfully, Salem is there.
"Hey, where's Khalifa?" he asks as they do press-ups. Coach is watching their team with narrowed eyes, muttering something none of them understand in his thick Australian accent.
"Grounded," Ali says. "More or less."
Salem snorts. He's slow to roll over, glancing at the coach, and wastes time rolling his shoulders to avoid moving on to sit-ups. "What'd he do?"
Ali explains, and Salem tsks. "Lame. My mom makes me drive to the dukan when no one's around. She doesn't give a fuck that the cops could pull me over."
He doesn't want to point it out, but Ali thinks Salem will probably never be pulled over just by the looks of him because he looks like he's twenty. His shoulders are broad and he's probably the only guy he knows who's had a full-fledged beard at 15. They're 17, and Salem looks as old to be a father.
Also, his mom scares the shit out of Ali. She's the kind of mom that stares you down and tries to form an opinion on you as soon as you meet. He hasn't really, officially, met Salem's mom, but she's seen him hanging out around her son, and he just knows she hates him. Like she can read his fucking mind. It gives him the chills.
"My mom would chop off my dick," Ali says.
Salem makes a face and finally starts with pushups.
"My muscles are gonna be a bitch tomorrow," he grunts.
Ali isn't looking forward to it either.
Practice doesn't end too badly. Ali thinks with Khalifa on the opposite team he would have been more competitive, more ambitious to win, but he did all right. There's just something about Khalifa that gets under his skin. He thinks it has to do with hating him at first, sort of like left over dislike that's triggered when Ali's trying to prove himself. He doesn't like thinking about it for too long, it starts to feel like an uncomfortable lump on his head.
He's sweating by the time it's over, which he doesn't mind too much except the changing rooms stink and the showers don't work. He has to wait for his father to pick him up, and even then, he can't roll down the windows, because it's still a hundred degrees outside. Ali feels sorry for his father.
He thinks after a weekend of sitting on his ass, Ali deserves feeling like his lungs have collapsed.
it's almost Halloween!
thx for reading xx
