The Lines We Cross

  He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. The Afghan rumor mill that works from Kabul to Auburn to Lane Cove to your mother’s cell phone. Got it.” He pecks me on the cheek and I giggle and push him away.

  “Hey!” I warn him.

  “Okay, okay.” He holds his hands behind his back in submission. “Happy now?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He leans against the locker.

  “Did you speak to your parents?” I’m almost too scared to ask.

  He nods, but the expression on his face worries me.

  “No use?”

  “Dad said he’ll talk to the others. He’s the leader of the organization so that has to mean something … But he said he can’t promise anything. I know that’s not very reassuring. I’m so sorry, Mina.”

  I bite my lip, too anxious to say anything. He puts his hand on my arm and peers into my face.

  “I tried. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” I say. And I mean it.

  “I’ll speak to him again tonight to check that he’s spoken to them. They’re all busy with the Jordan Springs campaign, so this will probably drop off their radar. They’ve got bigger Muslim fish to fry.” He grins at me and I hit him in the arm, a faint smile on my face.

  I need to vent to Paula. With Michael, I have to hold myself back from swearing about his parents. I mean, as much as I wish they’d drop off the face of this planet, they are the parents of the guy who makes me weak at the knees.

  But I don’t get a chance to talk to Paula because she arrives at homeroom after the bell. It’s our weekly one-hour period with Mr. Morello today. Terrence is back and the color has returned to Jane’s face. She was moping for three days and it took all my self-control not to slap her out of her stupid crush.

  Paula walks in and says hi to Mr. Morello, who smiles warmly at her and continues talking to us about leadership skills. A few minutes after Paula’s taken her seat I hear snickers from behind. I peer backward and see some of the kids looking at Paula with amusement, trying to stifle their laughs. Terrence is sitting with his arms folded across his chest, a triumphant expression on his face.

  Mr. Morello is in no mood for disruptions and we get a two-minute power silence. Clara yells out at Terrence to shut up and respect the fact that some people actually come to school to get an education. That sets him off giggling and so Mr. Morello increases the power silence to four minutes. Mr. Morello asks what the joke is, which only gets Terrence and some others laughing more. They don’t say anything though, and Mr. Morello gives us six minutes.

  We have early recess today and we spill out of the class when the bell rings. We’re walking out into the courtyard and it’s like a tiny crack in a windshield has suddenly grown until the glass smashes.

  I hear it first. Terrence walks past Paula and says, “So exactly how long have you been in love with Morello for?”

  His voice is loud enough for others to hear, sending them into fits of laughter and backslaps. A small crowd has gathered. I see Zoe and Clara slow down, listening in and watching what’s happening.

  The question practically knocks the wind out of Paula. It’s not her fault, but her reaction is just making it worse.

  I play it cool. “Morello? Hello, who isn’t crushing on him?”

  But he’s not backing down. “Nice try, Mina.”

  Then, to my astonishment, Zoe lets out a laugh and says, “Terrence, you’re such an idiot. Practically every girl in eleventh grade likes Morello. With guys like you around us, it’s pretty obvious why.”

  I feel like reaching out and giving her a hug. Paula stares at her in surprise. Our eyes meet for a moment, an understanding forming between us, and then, satisfied that they’ve chipped away at his rumor-mongering, Zoe and Clara walk away.

  Terrence glowers at them and then focuses back on Paula.

  “How many one-on-one sessions have you had with Morello in his office?” he asks, smirking.

  Paula is mortified, shaking. I hold tightly on to her hand and try to lead her away but she’s frozen to the spot.

  I can’t understand how Terrence knows. Paula had confided only in me. But then I see Jane standing nearby, watching Terrence laughing with his mates. The guilt in her eyes is unmistakable. She sees me staring openmouthed at her, and I almost sense the shame take her over. She looks away and runs off, which is when Paula notices her. Realization dawns on Paula’s face. It’s like she’s been punched in the stomach.

  “Isn’t he a bit too old for you?” Terrence taunts her.

  He’s not teasing like he usually does. There’s something malicious about him now. I remember Michael’s texts. This is payback to Mr. Morello for the suspension. And Paula? Well, she’s just collateral damage.

  I get up right in his face. He doesn’t scare me. “You know, I keep trying to find something redeeming about you. Some guys are jerks, but they can at least pull off witty and charming too. But you? It’s no use. You’re a one-talent show. The only trick you’ve got is first-class pathetic.”

  The muscles in his neck bulge and he flashes an angry look at me.

  “What are you going to do about it? Put an SOS call to your terrorist buddies?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m from the land of Al-Qaida, remember.”

  Some of the boys laugh. I stare back defiantly at him.

  “Hey, when I want an opinion from a boat person I’ll ask,” he says smugly.

  “Quit it, Terrence,” I hear Michael shout from behind as he storms up to us. I’m not one to play the damsel in distress but I have to admit it’s quite a turn-on.

  “When are you going to stop being such a fucking dickhead?”

  Terrence is momentarily too surprised to respond.

  “Are you taking their side?” he finally manages.

  “Hell yes,” Michael cries. “What’s Paula ever done to you?”

  “Where’s your freaking sense of humor?” He looks at the other guys and laughs. “Anyway, Paula doesn’t need you. She’s got a terrorist defending her.”

  It happens in an instant. Michael shoves him in the chest and Terrence stumbles backward. The boys start cheering and making noises generally heard in wildlife parks.

  “Michael, don’t! He’s not worth getting suspended for.”

  Terrence lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Is this how you treat a mate?”

  “A mate? If I was really your mate I would have called you out for being an asshole a long time ago.”

  Terrence looks wounded for a moment, but then his face twists in anger.

  “Fuck you,” he spits out, and walks away.

  It’s then that I notice Paula has slipped away. I lock eyes with Michael and a rush of affection for him floods through every atom of my body.

  I run out of the corridor, bumping into Jane outside.

  “How could you do that to anyone, let alone your own cousin?” I say furiously.

  Jane stammers and fumbles, avoiding my eyes.

  “I never thought he’d tell. Honest. It just came up in conversation.”

  “You think it’s okay to betray Paula?”

  “No.” She makes a face. “I just … it’s hard to get his attention …”

  “Oh, I get it. Blabbing your cousin’s secrets keeps him close, hey?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Her voice trembles slightly.

  I sigh, exasperated that I have to explain the bleeding obvious to her. “Listen to me. If you need to betray friends and family to keep a guy, you need to dump him. He’s the wrong guy.”

  She lets out a hard laugh. “We were never going out for me to dump him. He made that clear to me last night. He got what he wanted at the party. After that, the only time he seemed interested in me was when I was … you know.”

  “Feeding him gossip?”

  She nods slowly. “I feel like shit, all right? When Terrence made a move on me I couldn’t believe it. Not many guys have before, let alone somebody like him.” She shrugs. “I lea
rned the hard way.”

  “No. Paula did.”

  Her face crumples and with it my anger. She bites down on her lip, her eyes darting everywhere to avoid my gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

  Pity floods through me. If only she knew that she didn’t have to be the kind of girl who only knows how to exist when she’s wanted by a guy.

  I smile at her and, wearing her shame like a heavy coat, she manages a small smile in return.

  I find Paula sobbing in a toilet cubicle in the library.

  “Open the door, Paula,” I plead with her, leaning my head against the door.

  She doesn’t open the door and she doesn’t speak.

  “It stinks in here. And sure, I know you’re in a shitty place right now, but you don’t have to take it literally. I promise you can cry as much as you like but at least let’s go somewhere hygienic.”

  I hear the slightest movement. A tiny rustle.

  “Did you see the graffiti on this door, Paula? They’ve drawn Ms. Ham, only they’ve given her a triple D cup. That’s not her. Have her boobs seen better days?”

  She opens the door and I smile at her.

  “My life sucks,” she says, her face crumpling again.

  “Listen to me. The only people who know the truth about your feelings for Morello are Jane and me. We just deny it. Terrence is known to talk shit all the time. Leave Jane to me.”

  “It’s a bit too late to deny it. I fell apart.” She stands in front of the mirror, staring at her face. “Not to mention Morello’s going to hear the rumors. I can never face him again.”

  I rub her back. “Yes, you can. Who’s to say it even gets back to him? It’ll blow over.”

  “But what if it doesn’t? What if Terrence keeps on spreading it around?”

  I lead her out of the bathroom and we take refuge in the privacy of a study cubicle on the second story of the library.

  I drum my nails on the desk, deep in thought.

  “I could always rent a terrorist.”

  Paula stares at me. “Huh?”

  I smile. “I know some guys in Auburn. Big. Bushy beards. Nike tracksuits. Westie accents. They just need to pay Terrence a visit. Pass him on the street and ask him for the time, maybe, then mutter Allahu Akbar or something and he’ll crap his pants.”

  Paula laughs. “You’re crazy.”

  The bell rings.

  “I don’t want to go to class,” she moans.

  I lift her up. “Come on. You don’t go and he wins.”

  “I can’t face anybody. They’ll all be talking about me.”

  “I just know Oscar Wilde has a quote for this moment.”

  Society and Culture. Paula and I walk in with our heads high. Zoe and Clara catch our eyes and smile at us in solidarity.

  Terrence is sitting tight with Fred, trying to affect nonchalance but failing miserably as far as I can tell. I walk past him and flash him a bright, insincere smile that I’m confident successfully conveys the extent of my disdain for him. Jane’s next to Leica and is nervously avoiding eye contact with Paula. Michael’s sitting alone, his long legs stretched out under his desk, looking as cool and calm as ever I’ve seen him.

  Class goes on normally. Mr. Morello obviously has no clue about what’s happened. But something has shifted in the room. Terrence is trying to play it cool, but I can sense his ambivalence about how he’s come out of all of this. While Paula’s never been popular, she’s always been respected from a distance. As for Mr. Morello, he’s well liked, one of the “cool” teachers. If Terrence had hoped to marginalize Paula, or get people talking about Mr. Morello, it hasn’t worked.

  He’s crossed the line and, judging from the look on his face, I’m guessing he realizes it too.

  It’s the semifinals tonight, and as badly as I want to be with Mina, I’m not going to let the team down. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, playing alongside Terrence. We haven’t spoken all day. Some things you can’t come back from. It’s taken our fight to make me realize we grew apart a long time ago.

  I arrive a little late to practice. He’s on the court already, doing drills with the rest of the team.

  I throw my bag under the bench, pull off my top, and put on my jersey. I take a swig from my water bottle and jog out to the court. He sees me but doesn’t acknowledge me.

  Coach trains us hard before the game. By the time the siren sounds for the game to begin, I’m pumped up, ready to play hard.

  But Terrence is taking our fight to the court, ignoring me when I call for a pass, dropping comments when I miss a shot. The referee calls the first time-out and our coach storms over to us.

  “What the hell is going on, Terrence? Michael was open and you passed to Hamish!”

  “Oops.”

  “Wipe that smirk off your face. Whatever’s going on, keep it off the court or I’ll bench you for the rest of the game. Got it?”

  Terrence mutters a yes.

  Coach fixes his eyes on me next. “Michael?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  We run back onto the court. Terrence scowls at me. I ignore him.

  At least he’s gotten the message. We play like normal but there’s none of the usual backslapping and joking. Things are tense between us, and everyone knows it.

  We win by one point. Finally, a high note in the day.

  Usually I’d drop Terrence home, but tonight I don’t offer. I pull on my top, collect my stuff, say bye to the rest of the team, and walk to the parking lot. He follows me outside.

  “What? So that’s it?” he demands.

  I throw my bag in the front seat and turn to face him. “You think you can treat people like that and get away with it?”

  “I’m the same guy. I haven’t changed.”

  “Yeah, well, I have.”

  I can see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. Then it’s gone and the anger returns.

  “It never bothered you before.”

  “Yeah, it did. Only I was too lazy to do anything.”

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Are you going out with Mina?”

  I knew it was only a matter of time before he asked. I want to show Mina off to the world but I respect her too much to betray her.

  “We’re friends now. I defended her because you crossed a line. With Paula, with Jane, and with her.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

  “Honestly, Terrence, I couldn’t care less what you believe.”

  “I’ve known you since seventh grade. You’ve known her one term. Are you going to shit on our friendship for someone like her?”

  I feel the veins in my neck bulge out. I crack it. “What do you mean, someone like her?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He’s incredulous, and throws his hands up in disbelief. “Your dad’s leader of Aussie Values, for God’s sake. What the hell’s happened to you? You suddenly got some wog-chick fetish?”

  I almost lunge at him but the thought of Mina stops me. How do I explain to him that I went along with everything my parents said because it never occurred to me that they could be wrong? I never dared to think I could question them until I met Mina. She’s turned my life inside out and nothing’s been the same since.

  “Well?” he presses me.

  I shrug. “At some point in your life you have to decide what you believe in. I don’t want to be that guy who figures it out when it’s too late.”

  “That’s such New Age bullshit, man.”

  He looks so confused and betrayed that the anger drains out of me, leaving nothing inside me but pity for him.

  “We’ve got nothing to say to each other anymore,” I tell him, and get into my car and drive away.

  Dad texts me to say he’s with Mum and Nathan at Andrew and Carolina’s place. I send a text back asking if he’s spoken to the others about backing off. He responds: Yes. It’s under control. Don’t worry.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, and let Mina know.

  Maha texts me.


  She calls within seconds.

  She’s screaming like I just aced my finals. She demands details. It’s a long conversation.

  I find Adnan out back having a cigarette on his break. I empty the rubbish into the garbage bin and sit on an upside-down crate across from him. There’s a stench coming from the bin, but I try to ignore it.

  He’s tall and lanky, thick jet-black hair swept to the side, locked into position with Brylcreem judging from the scent. His face is riddled with acne scars but you hardly notice because when he smiles his face lights up.

  “Did I tell you we’re getting more people raving about your food?” I say, grinning at him.

  He smiles. “Yes.”

  “Where’d you learn to cook like that? You’re only a couple of years older than me. Eighteen, right?”

  He nods. “My father was a chef back home. I helped in his restaurant there.”

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  He takes a long drag of his cigarette, stares at the ground.

  “Dad mentioned you quit school,” I say.

  He shrugs. “When I turned eighteen, immigration told me I had to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “They wouldn’t fund it anymore. The people at the school encouraged me to stay. I tried for a while but they didn’t realize how short of money I was. I wasn’t paying for my train fares to come to school. One day I nearly got caught on the train without a ticket. They would have sent me back to Villawood. So I left school. Not worth the risk in the end.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, biting down on my lip with anger. But he just shrugs, stands up, flicks the cigarette onto the ground, and presses down on it with his foot.

  “It’s okay. I have a job now. Thanks to your father and Irfan. I’ve got to go back, marinate the chicken. See you inside.”

  I sit there for a while longer, lost in my thoughts.

  We came so close to losing Adnan, Mustafa, and Mariam. It shouldn’t be like this.

  Soon I realize I’ve become desensitized to the smell of the garbage bins. That’s life, I guess. Stick around shit long enough and pretty soon you can’t smell it.