Speak without words, p.23
Speak Without Words, page 23
Claire was so lost in her musings that she crashed into Maite when they met at the corner. Maite laughed and turned their collision into a hug.
“Ffffffinished?” Claire asked.
Before Maite answered, a scream split the air. They exchanged a glance and sprinted toward the sound, but the hallway stretched into infinity. A pile of posters littered the floor near the locker room. Claire’s legs burned, but her pace stagnated, as if she were running through a bog.
Amidst the pile of scattered flyers, Saafi struggled against four guys, Todd and Adam Easdon among them. One put his hand over Saafi’s mouth, but he retracted it after she bit him. She broke free and screamed again, but before she could get away, Adam grabbed her hijab and ripped it off.
Saafi’s hands shot straight to her exposed hair. Adam kicked the backs of her knees, forcing her to the floor.
“Adam, that’s enough,” Todd said, but his brother ignored him. The other guys grabbed Saafi. Adam moved to kick her again, but Maite bowled into the group.
Claire dragged Saafi away from the fight. Saafi curled into a ball, eyes clenched shut. A huge tear ripped down the length of her shirt, exposing her black bra. Her hijab lay across the hall, trampled by the brawling teens.
Claire took off her sweater and covered her friend, stretching the fabric over her hair.
“Saafi, it’s me. It’s C- it’s Claire.”
Saafi cracked her eyes open. She met Claire’s gaze only long enough to confirm her identity, then broke into sobs. Claire held her trembling teammate and whispered soothing things.
Maite brawled. The battle grew more savage with every minute. The three boys tried to pin her, but Maite evaded their grasp.
Todd spun away from the fight, and Claire caught his eye. His jaw wobbled for a moment before he spoke.
“Guys, that’s—”
Maite shoved Adam into Todd’s gut, knocking them both to the ground.
Adam grunted. “Are you with me or with them, Todd?” He gestured to the fallen Mosaic posters.
The two remaining guys trapped Maite in a hold. Adam sneered as he hauled Todd to his feet, but Maite twisted free of her captors and kicked Adam in the stomach. Todd held up his hands, but he still blocked Maite’s escape. Maite landed rapid blows against the other three guys, but she took plenty of hits herself. Even with Todd shifting to defense-only, Maite still faced three aggressive opponents by herself. Strong as she was, she was losing.
If Todd won’t stop this, I will. Claire shifted, but Saafi clutched her arm. Who should Claire help: the friend who was wounded emotionally, or the one being beaten physically?
Footsteps spared Claire from deciding. Beth arrived with Principal Gray, the school’s security officer, and Coach Larson in tow.
“What’s going on here?” Principal Gray said.
The four fighters ignored him. Maite’s lip bled. Adam’s eye swelled. Coach Larson whistled. The fight paused long enough for everyone to cover their ears. Maite looked toward her coach, but Adam took advantage of the distraction and tackled her. They wrestled until the security officer tore them apart.
Adam spat blood. “Bitch.” Maite lunged for him, but the officer shoved her against the lockers. He held her there, one elbow behind her back. She scowled as if considering breaking loose, but remained still.
“All of you. Against the wall. Now,” the officer said. Adam and his friends begrudgingly obeyed. Todd’s hands shook as he followed the command.
Beth knelt next to Claire and Saafi. “I heard screaming and ran for help. What happened?”
“Adam de-decided he had a right to see Saafi’s hair,” Claire said. Saafi trembled beneath her sweater, curled as though trying to disappear beneath it. Beth removed her own sweater and added it to Claire’s. Saafi whimpered and buried her face in Claire’s side.
Coach Larson joined them as the principal questioned the brawlers. She gestured to Saafi.
“She okay?”
“Does she look okay?” Beth said.
“What do we do?” Claire asked.
Coach Larson scanned the hall, eyes lingering on Saafi’s trampled hijab. “Stay with her for now. This will get ugly.”
Beth pulled out her phone. “I’ll call her dad.”
Claire held Saafi tighter as the principal made the boys clean up the scattered posters. Saafi tried to solve every problem with education, but not all conflict derived from ignorance. Some acts were pure hate.
Maite unloaded the supplies from the truck and hauled them into the shop. At least being suspended allowed her more time to help Abuela. She’d set down the last box when Coach Larson entered the store.
“I need to speak with you and your grandmother.”
Maite led her to the office, where Abuela was filing paperwork.
“If you expect me to punish her, you can walk right out that door.” Abuela pointed to the exit with her pen.
Coach Larson sat in the wooden chair across from her. “Principal Gray asked me to suspend her from the team, besides her other consequences.”
“Like Clara?” Maite asked. She clenched her fist over a flutter of apprehension.
“I suspended Claire, and she hasn’t touched a cigarette or a beer since. If I suspend you, and those guys attack Saafi again, what will you do?”
“Hit them ’til they stop breathing,” Maite said, daring her coach to argue with her.
Coach Larson smiled. “That’s my girl.” She shifted her gaze between Maite and Abuela. “I’m not suspending you, but you need to be careful. The boys claim they were just talking when you pounced. They say Saafi’s clothes must have torn in the fight.”
Maite stepped forward. “They lie.”
“I know, but it’s the four of them against you, Saafi, and Claire, and Claire doesn’t have a great reputation.” She stood and took Maite’s shoulders. “No fighting, understood?”
Maite shifted her weight to her back foot.
“Trust me, Maite.”
Trust. A hard ask, but Coach Larson had drilled her teams-are-families rhetoric into her players. If she lived the way she coached, then she belonged in the hero category too.
“Okay.”
Coach Larson turned back to Abuela. “You’ve raised a strong young woman.”
“And a good one.”
Coach Larson nodded. “And a good one.”
Beth sat on her bed. Tchaikovsky filled the room, overtaken occasionally by her siblings’ bickering. She kept the door closed, and they gave her space. She loved them for that.
Saafi had cowered under the sweaters and clung to Claire until her aunt showed up with a change of clothes. She hadn’t met her father’s eyes, hadn’t said a word, just allowed them to lead her away. To see such behavior in her extroverted friend made Beth sick. Ghost acted the same way when he joined the family.
A knock broke through the memory. Beth’s dad sat beside her and put his arm around her. The tears started, and once out, they evolved into sobs. Beth couldn’t strike the images from her mind: Adam’s sneer, Saafi’s torn shirt, Maite’s bloody lip. Why?
Beth’s dad kissed the top of her head and held her as saltwater drenched her cheeks. He handed her a tissue, and she wiped her face.
“It’s not fair. Maite got in more trouble than the Easdon twins.” They exploited every loophole. Principal Gray let them, as if he were eager for an excuse not to grant Saafi justice.
“Maite kept fighting after the officer told her to stop.”
“So did they. It’s stupid. Maite gets in trouble for ‘assaulting’ those guys, but they get off easy because they only tried to assault Saafi? How many hits do they have to land before it counts? What if we had come a few minutes later, Dad?”
He rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t think about what-ifs. Maite will be fine. You and your friends need to support Saafi.”
Beth shook her head and stared at the wall. One of Minh’s paintings hung there: sunrise over Lake Harriet. She’d made Beth drive her there before dawn, insisting it had to be sunrise instead of sunset. Beth would give it to Saafi. She wished she could do more.
She leaned into her dad, but her cheek brushed something hard. She plucked the pin off his shirt pocket and ran her fingers over the replica of the Minneapolis Police Badge: To Protect with Courage. To Serve with Compassion.
“I know now, why you became a cop,” Beth said. “I want to cream those guys, but there are other ways to fight, aren’t there?”
“I joined the police force to create the change I wanted to see, but there are a thousand ways to make a difference.”
Beth nodded, thinking of closing those loopholes. “I guess I’ll need a summer job. Law school is expensive.”
Claire stumbled around the apartment, numb. Saafi, who shared family recipes with anyone who asked and lectured on the five pillars of Islam at the slightest hint of interest. Saafi, who made a spreadsheet out of hate letters and formed a student group to bridge the cultural divide. Saafi, who broke the silence pact to ask Claire if the rumors were true.
Saafi, who saw the best in everyone, suffered the ugliest humanity offered. It’s not fair.
Claire opened the bedroom door to find her father pacing.
“Honey, do you mind studying in the living room tonight? I need to prepare for my interview.”
Claire opened her mouth. Four guys attacked my friend. The words stayed locked in her head as she tracked her father’s frantic steps around the tiny room. He wrung his hands and muttered accounting terms.
Claire clicked the door shut behind her. The couch seemed too soft for her feelings. She needed something harder, colder. She moved to the opposite wall and sank to the floor.
The spotless apartment wobbled like a reflection in a funhouse mirror as Claire’s eyes watered. I should have run faster. I should have stayed with her from the beginning. Why did we separate? Claire breathed to prevent ugly crying. She’d gotten good at silent tears this year.
“Claire?” Aunt Monica stood behind the couch. “I’m not good at handling teenage breakdowns.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to ssstay with me.”
Aunt Monica glanced at her father’s bedroom door, clenched her jaw, and sat across from Claire.
“What happened?”
“My fffffffriend. These G-”—Claire choked on the words—“these guys attacked her. Her c- her clothes were all t-t-t-torn. She looked so scared.”
Aunt Monica grimaced as Claire sobbed. Claire fought to regain composure, succeeded only partially.
“Shit,” Aunt Monica said. “I wish I could say adults behave better, but we’re a bunch of assholes too.”
Claire swallowed her tears. “What do I say to her?”
“Who says you have to say anything?”
“Huh?”
“I’m sure she has a host of other people telling her the standard ‘it’s-gonna-be-okay’ crap. Stick with your strengths.”
Strengths? What strengths did Claire have? Claire fidgeted with the carpet strand as she thought. A mean jump serve wouldn’t help anything, and she doubted Saafi needed a human thesaurus.
Claire released the carpet strand and stood. “C-can you drive me to the grocery store?”
Saafi put away her textbook. She’d tried reading, writing, even doodling, but her mind returned to the attack. Goosebumps rose behind her neck despite the wool blanket covering her. She didn’t know what Aunt Bishaaro had done with her torn shirt, but a bruise discolored her arm where the boys had held her. She could still feel their hands.
Earlier Rooble bumped into her, and she’d screamed. His eyes widened, and he backed away like she was a dangerous animal. She couldn’t articulate that she was the prey, not the predator.
Saafi shifted deeper under the blankets. No matter how many layers she put on, she still felt exposed. Adam had seen her hair, and remembering that violation made her shiver. She broke into a cold sweat when she thought about returning to school—all those people watching, whispering.
Why me? Of all her friends, Saafi was the most pious. Even while traveling, she never missed a prayer time. She attended mosque regularly and strove to set a good example. Her faithfulness earned her hate notes, jeers, and an assault. How could this be Allah’s will?
The knock at the door was so soft Saafi almost missed it. She drew her knees to her chest as her father sat at the head of her bed.
“You haven’t left your room in two days, Saafi.” His voice was as soft as his knock.
I never want to leave. “Can I stay home tomorrow?”
“Yes, but it pains me to hear you ask.”
Saafi never made excuses to skip school. Aunt Bishaaro had to threaten to tie her to her bed when she was sick. Now thinking of Monday morning made her ill. How could she face that hallway again? How could she endure the fear, the shame?
“It wasn’t your fault, Saafi.”
People kept saying that, but she still wondered. What if she hadn’t antagonized Adam at the party? What if she hadn’t taken charge at the drinking fountain? What if she hadn’t formed Mosaic? If she’d kept her mouth shut and let idiots be idiots, would she have avoided this?
“Aabe?” Saafi’s voice shook. Everything shook lately. “Am I still saafi? Am I still pure?”
“Oh, my daughter. You will always be my Saafi.” He pulled her close and whispered words of comfort in Arabic as she sobbed. She cried until her strength drained. But before she closed her eyes to nap, Aunt Bishaaro knocked.
“Saafi, your friends are here. Are you up for a visit?”
Saafi wiped her eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“I don’t think they care, but I’m sure they’ll understand if you want to rest.” She left. Saafi’s father followed, leaving her alone with the memories.
“Wait.” Saafi launched herself off her bed and into the hallway.
Claire, Beth, and Maite faced her. Maite sported a nasty bruise on her left cheek. The sight of it drove more tears into Saafi’s eyes.
“If you hadn’t come…” She threw herself into Maite’s arms and stained her friend’s shirt with tears.
Maite’s long arms wrapped around her. “I will always come, amiga. You call; I come.”
“Us too,” Beth said. Claire nodded.
Saafi wiped her eyes and noticed the bags at her friends’ feet. “What’s all that?”
Claire pulled out container after container of food. “It’s all halal, I promise.” She handed the containers to Aunt Bishaaro and hefted her stereo from a second bag. “We brought Tchaikovsky, in case you nnnnnneeded a g-good cry.”
“And”—Maite dug around a bouquet of carnations and pulled out a DVD—“Rush Hour 2, for a good laugh.”
“And I brought you this.” Beth handed her a large flat box.
Saafi opened the wrapping and marveled at the painting. “You’re giving this to me?”
Beth nodded. “Whenever we were too scared to sleep, my dad would say, ‘No matter how bad the nightmare, the sun always rises in the morning.’ I figured you could use a sunrise.”
Saafi blinked away tears. “I don’t think I’ll need the Tchaikovsky to cry.”
“Good,” Maite said. “We can skip to the movie.”
Saafi never thought she’d laugh again, but she did, a strained giggle that snapped into hysterics before dissolving into tears. Her feelings didn’t function anymore, as if someone had torn the pages out of her emotional encyclopedia and glued them back in upside down and in the wrong order. Her friends spent all night holding her while she sobbed, goofing off until she laughed, and ensuring she ate.
Not all conflict had its roots in ignorance. Saafi learned the hard way that some acts were pure hatred, but hate, like ignorance, had a cure—love. Her friends proved it that night.
Saafi might never feel normal again, but for the first time all weekend, she felt safe.
Chapter 34
Claire strolled through the school’s old wing, guessing Todd would need an early morning smoke his first day back from suspension. She passed a gaggle of stoners, but Todd wasn’t among them. On a hunch, she went outside. Todd leaned against the wall, a homemade joint between his fingers.
“Enjoy your time off?” Claire said. Too flustered to sift through the accounts, Principal Gray had suspended everyone but Beth, an injustice Claire intended to rectify.
“Home is never enjoyable,” Todd said. He held the joint out to Claire. She shook her head.
“You D-isgust me.”
Todd winced. “I didn’t want it to go that far.”
“You did nnnnothing to stop it.”
“It was a prank.”
“You violated her!”
Todd crushed the smoldering butt beneath his shoe, unable or unwilling to meet Claire’s eye.
“It’s just hair.”
“Not to her.” Claire tugged Todd’s sweatshirt. “What about her t-t-torn shirt? Was that ‘just clothes?’”
Todd took her hand with surprising gentleness. “What do you want from me?”
“T-ell the truth. That ssssuspension was a joke. Adam belongs in juvie.” With Todd’s testimony, it would be four against three.
Todd dropped her hand, leaving her with an aching cold. “I can’t betray my brother.”
“Coward.”
He twisted away from her. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Claire forced him to meet her eyes. “I understand perfectly.” She relied on her speech strategies to ensure her next words emerged fluently, because they would be the last she ever spoke to him. “Goodbye, Todd. I hope you learn to sleep at night.”
Let him smoke away his cowardice. Claire had a friend to support.
Saafi strode through the hallway, grateful for the wall of girls in hijabs around her. Their skirts swished in rhythm until the front line halted.
Claire, Maite, and Beth waited at her locker.
