The Girl in The Green Scarf

O n e

CHAPTER ONE
HAMSA

"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does."
― William James

   "Misa!" I start at the sound of my brother Yahiya, wondering how he is back from his first shift already.

  He appears around the corner of the backyard, holding two empty rusted tin buckets. Empty because I forgot to get the water from the river today. Knowing I am screwed, I freeze in the branch and slowly hug my legs to my chest, trying to hide in the shadows and tangles of the leaves.

  "Hamsa," he says with a frustrated sigh. His eyes skim the yard, searching. "Stop fooling around."

   Please, don't look up, I silently beg.

   The backyard is filled with a myriad of useless objects scattered over the withered garden that I once grew with my mothers. Wilted cardboard boxes are stacked under the oak tree, their colour faded and their material peeling off. Yahiya walks towards the boxes, something caught his attention. When I realise they are the slides that I took off earlier to climb the tree I know I'm so busted.

   He picks them up, a sly smile on his face. "You're getting worse at hiding you know." He slants his head upwards and our eyes meet.

   I smile sheepishly and hold my hands up admitting defeat.

   "Don't give me those deer-in-the-headlights eyes. Come down here this instant."

   I sigh, sliding my legs off the side of the tree branch, then jump swiftly, my feet hitting the damp floor with a thump. I smile satisfied with my flawless landing. Practice does make perfect after all.

   "Show off," Yahiya mutters and my smile widens.

   I pat down my dress, dusting off the bits of dry leaves and adjust my headscarf that had fallen onto my shoulders. Yahiya hands me my slides and I put them on, thanking him. When he places the buckets at his feet and folds his arms across his chest, I brace myself for the lecture.

   "Tell me how it is possible for a person to forget to do the one thing they are assigned, not once or twice, but every single day," he says, pinching his lips together. If his tone was not disapproving, I would laugh at how this makes him look.

   "Chill, big brother. No one is going to die if I don't get the water in time," I say cheerfully, pinching his cheek.

   He glares at me, blood flushing his face. I grab the buckets, swaying them in my hands and brush by him, walking to the front yard, which is devoid of greens. It has been this way for a long time. The chemicals in the air and water make it hard for anything to grow properly around here. For a couple of years, I tried to replant my mother's garden, but everything I grew died. So finally I gave up. Subhan Allah, it's a wonder we are alive and well.

   Yahiya's voice follows me as I open the front door and go into the house. "You know it's dangerous to go out the afternoon."

  I grab my Abaya from the hooker by the door and replace my slides with a pair of worn-out shoes. I turn to look at him as he goes on. "That's why you should get it in the morning--"

   "Before the guards are patrolling the area, blah, blah, blah," I finish for him, mimicking his blabber and then in my normal voice I add, "you seriously need to stop worrying about me so much Yahiya. Get married or something, then you can bother someone else."

   He scrunches his nose and I give him a quick peck on the cheek, his growing beard tickling me.

   "The guards won't hurt me, they'd have to catch me first. And even if they do, I can take care of them." I throw on my Abaya, rushing out. I pick up the buckets I left by the door in haste and hear Yahiya sigh behind me.