fibres of their rugs.
But that is where the similarities of their routines ended. As usual, while Baba started praying, Nasir’s mind began to wander. Against all his best efforts, his thoughts crept back to the girl. He wondered if she’d ever noticed him watching her. He wondered what it must be like to have the money to waste on gum and candy every day. He wondered what her name was and what her voice sounded like.
Every time she came up to the counter he opened his mouth to talk to her, but always ended up losing his courage. Maybe he would manage to say something tomorrow — he was almost certain she’d be back.
Turning his head slightly, he snuck a quick peek at his father praying so intently beside him. Their conversation replayed itself again in his mind. He knew his father felt guilty for living in Israel while their relatives languished in a refugee camp. Nasir sometimes wondered whether he should feel guilty, too. But he never did. He was very happy not to be over there. In fact, most of the time he didn’t even want to be over here. He couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life this way. There were places in the world where people didn’t have to struggle so hard to support their families — places in the world where life was easier. Nasir knew this for a fact.
Just then, Baba opened his eyes and saw his son watching him. Nasir quickly turned his eyes back down to his rug and continued on through the motions of his prayer.
Chapter 6
I decided the dark-skinned boy with the big brown eyes had a crush on me.
Although we hadn’t spoken yet, I was almost positive it was true. Every time I went into in his little hole-in-the-wall store, his eyes would follow me up and down the aisles. Even when he was helping another customer, it seemed like he was always watching me. It was pretty shameless — he didn’t even try to hide it. And I could see his hands trembling whenever I came up to the counter.
It made me nervous. I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know what to do, either. It was just so embarrassing.
Sometimes I’d steal a glance or two from underneath the thin veil of my hair while he was busy at the cash register. He had thick dark hair that was almost long enough to brush his shoulders, smooth tanned skin, and a thin white scar cutting across the bottom of his chin.
And of course, those eyes! They were rimmed with lashes so long and dark that he almost looked like he was wearing mascara. Every time I looked at him I felt jealous. Why should a boy have lashes like that? My own blond eyelashes were practically invisible.
At first I only dropped into the store on my way to Ulpan when I needed something like a pack of gum or a roll of Life Savers. Every time I walked in I could feel the intensity of his gaze. Those brown eyes would burn into me until I had no choice but to just get out of there as fast as I could. But I would always find myself coming back for more a few days later. I have to admit, it was flattering. Never in my life had a boy stared at me like that, and I’d begun to like it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something unusual about him — something different from the guys I went to school with back in Canada. I started finding excuses to go to his store as often as I could. I must have seemed like a crazy girl with an obsessive gum habit, but it was the only thing I could afford to buy on such a regular basis. I wondered what he thought of me and why he looked at me that way. Harrison Finch never once looked at Hailey Wintrop like that, and they’d almost gone all the way!
When I told Marla about it, her reaction surprised me.
“You mean that Arab boy at the local makolet?” she gasped.
“Mako-what?”
“Trust me, you’ve got to forget about him!” she warned, ignoring my question. “Sure he’s cute, but he’s also Muslim! His parents will never let him date you!”
“I never said I wanted to date him!” I replied, suddenly feeling very defensive. “I just think he’s nice looking. And anyway, why not?”
“Why not? Don’t you see?” she asked, shaking her finger at me. “You’re white and Christian. It’s not going to happen!”
Still, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I dreamed about him at night. I got dressed in the mornings totally based on what I thought he’d like. It’s funny, at home just bumping into a guy wouldn’t put me over the edge like this, but I guess when you’re in a foreign country, any male attention is better than nothing. Soon enough, I found myself going into his shop every single day. Between coffee and gum, I was running out of money fast.
I think I was getting a crush on him, too. And I didn’t even know his name!
Chapter 7
By coincidence, my fifteenth birthday fell on the last day of Ulpan.
I don’t know if Dad called and told him or what, but somehow my teacher got wind of it and led the whole class in a shaky chorus of the Hebrew happy birthday song. As you can imagine, it was mortifying. Of course, I turned red as a beet. I always do when people sing “Happy Birthday” to me.
Later that night, Dad took me out for dinner at a local shish kebab place and gave me my present over a plate of shwarma. At first when I opened the box and found a cellphone, I was ecstatic. Pretty awesome birthday present, right? Well, as it turned out, not so much.
“This is for emergency use only, Mack,” Dad explained in his most authoritative parental tone. “I get nervous with you running all over this city and I want you to be safe. But you’ll have no more than ten minutes of call time per month, so use it wisely.”
Um, hello? What was I supposed to do with ten minutes a month? For a teenager, it was like getting a key to the candy store and being told you could only have one jelly bean. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I smiled and did my best to hide my disappointment. After all, what did I expect? Mom had always been the one to buy the presents in our family — Dad would just sign the card and show up for cake.
Presents aside, now that I was fifteen, what I had really been hoping for was the green light to start dating. When I brought it up, though, Dad looked pained — like someone had just stuck a pin in his butt.
“Well, uh — I don’t think this is the right time to discuss that, Mack,” he stammered.
My heart sunk. This was not how I’d imagined this conversation happening. At this rate, I was never going to have a boyfriend!
“What do you mean ‘not the right time’?” I whined, trying to keep from crying. “I’m fifteen years old now, Dad. All my friends are dating!”
That last part wasn’t exactly true, but I thought it made my argument sound more convincing. Unfortunately, Dad didn’t agree.
“Oh gosh,” he said, pushing his couscous nervously around with his fork, “Let’s wait a little bit longer on this one, okay, honey?”
I could hear a slight hint of begging in his voice; I knew he was dying to drop the subject, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. In all his years as a parent, he’d never imagined having this conversation with me. Mom had always handled the tough parenting subjects. You know, the birds-and-bees talk, the first-period talk, the say-no-to-drugs talk. He’d been on the sidelines of my childhood, and probably never expected he’d have to handle the ready-to-start-dating
