A Pocketful of Stars, page 10
‘I thought we came here to eat?’ I retort.
Our Maccies is always busy. Tonight it’s full of people our age, though I don’t recognize most of them. They must go to a different school.
‘Yeah, but I’m just getting chips. I don’t want to look greedy,’ Elle says.
I roll my eyes (when she’s not looking). I realize, in that moment, that our Friday-night sleepovers are well and truly over.
‘Well, I haven’t eaten since lunch, so I’m buying a burger.’
Before all of this, everything with Mum, a comment like that from Elle would make me second-guess my decision. Today it doesn’t.
Elle shrugs, already back on her phone. Matty isn’t here yet, so I know exactly who she’s texting. It doesn’t bother me today, though, because I’m checking my phone too. I emailed Rawan asking her if she had a copy of the flyer she and Mum used for the play.
I didn’t say exactly why I needed it, only that it was going in a memory box I was making for Mum. It’s kind of true, I guess. I’m turning the old hat box I put the ceramic cats in into a memory box, seeing as everything in it is from Mum’s memories.
I’ve been calling it my inventory, like in Fairy Hunters, where you collect spells and food and clothes to help you on your mission. Sometimes you get crystals too, and rare items.
My inventory holds the perfume bottle, the bracelet and the cats, and soon it’ll hold the flyer too. When I’m done collecting all of the objects I’m going to take the box to the hospital to show Mum, and that’s when the door will open!
Rawan was upset to hear that Mum is ill, especially as she’s in Kuwait and can’t see her, but I told her she’s getting better. It’s been exactly three days since Rawan sent the flyer. She’s tracking the delivery and told me she’d let me know once it arrived. This morning the flyer was somewhere in London, so it’s probably on its way here. I’ve been checking my phone obsessively all day, waiting for updates. I can’t bear another day without a new memory.
As Elle and I take our seats, and I start eating, the boys arrive. My heart sinks as I see Jonnie among them. At least David’s here, though. I still remember him asking about Mum. Maybe he won’t be as mean.
Matty kisses Elle right on the lips in front of everyone, looking around afterwards to make sure we saw.
Izzy’s sitting right across from me and we exchange a look. She smirks, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
The boys come back with their food. They haven’t ordered much either. So now I’m just sat here, scoffing my burger, while the rest of them pick at a bag of chips like pigeons.
‘Just like you to be hungry, Dobby,’ Jonnie says, smiling. But it’s not friendly. He’s teeth are jagged at the end, like some sort of predator.
Abir laughs, Izzy frowns, Elle ignores the comment. She’s too busy staring lovingly into Matty’s eyes while they feed each other chips. I want to believe that she didn’t hear it, but I’m not so sure any more.
‘Hilarious,’ I say sarcastically.
Jonnie laughs. ‘Someone’s a bit sensitive, aren’t they?’
I shrug, looking him dead in the eye. ‘No, I just don’t think you’re funny.’
Abir lets out a sigh. ‘Just ignore him,’ she hisses at me. ‘Jonnie’s an idiot to everyone.’
‘Abir finds me funny, don’t you?’ Jonnie presses, noticing the tension between us.
David shrinks back into his seat, looking miserable. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then takes a sip of his drink instead.
‘Abir would find a plastic bag funny,’ I retort, before I have the chance to think. The monster swims triumphantly through my veins, egging me on.
She gasps as if I’ve slapped her.
I open my mouth to say something more, but everyone’s turned to stare at someone who just walked in.
I look. It’s Charlotte, the girl Matty was making fun of in our ICT lesson. She’s with another girl in our year, Gini, queuing up for food. Actual food, it seems, not just chips.
‘All right, Charlotte?’ Jonnie says, ever the one to start trouble.
Charlotte turns and sees the group. Her shoulders droop, and she pulls her hair in front of her face, like maybe she knows about the horrible things the boys have been saying about her.
I see us from her eyes. Intimidating. Mean.
I watch Matty nudge Jonnie and point to Charlotte. He puts his phone down, just as she picks hers up.
It can’t be a coincidence, can it?
I watch her read something on it. Her face crumples, and I know it’s bad.
She shows Gini, who glances over at us, annoyed, but she’s probably too scared to do anything about it. They don’t end up getting any food. Instead they just leave. I watch them go, my eyes travelling across the room, and that’s when I see her.
Aminah, sitting in a booth alone.
The way the light falls on her it’s like she’s glowing, like one of the fire fairies from Fairy Hunters. Someone crosses my path and I lose sight of her for a second. When I look back at the booth she’s gone.
But she gives me all the courage I need.
Without thinking I snatch Matty’s phone from where it sits in front of him, and read the message he sent to Charlotte aloud. After I’m done, and everyone falls silent, I show them the photo he took in ICT, embellishments and all.
Then I go through the others one by one. It’s not that difficult to find because Matty’s saved them all in a special folder.
Everyone’s so shocked that no one even tries to snatch the phone off me. They just listen.
Finally I find the photo of me. They’ve photoshopped my eyes so they’re bigger than normal and green, instead of brown. They’ve removed my hair so it looks like I’m bald and written a silly caption under it.
I realize now I wasn’t being a bad friend at all. I wasn’t jealous about Matty, I was just being honest.
When I’m done I turn to Elle. ‘So?’ I say. My whole body feels like it’s made of electricity. ‘Do you still want to be his girlfriend after that?’
Elle goes beetroot red as everyone turns to look at her. She pauses for what seems like a million years, and then finally answers. ‘Don’t be so dramatic, Saff,’ she says, her voice cold. ‘It’s just a laugh.’
‘I’m not being dramatic.’ I snap, my voice ringing loud and clear. ‘You’re just being fake, and mean. Where’s the Elle that always makes up stupid puns? Where’s the Elle that sings songs with me in silly voices, or the one who didn’t care so much what everyone thought of her?’ While I’m talking Elle’s eyes flit left and right, and she goes redder and redder. She looks at me for a moment like she misses all that too, but then she glances at Abir and Matty, and says nothing.
I slide out of the booth without another word. Elle doesn’t even try to stop me.
As I reach the door I glance back at her. She catches my eye for a moment before turning to Matty again. It’s as if I was never there at all; the gap I left has already been filled.
Dad picks me up soon after and we go home. I head straight to my room, Lady bounding in after me.
I’m about to disappear into a game, to try to forget the world, but there’s a package on my bed. My hands shake as I pick it up. I pull out the flyer and find that it’s exactly as it appeared in the memory.
And, even though today’s been the worst, it’s been the best too. Not only can I unlock the next memory, but I finally know what it’s all leading to: a play! A play Mum performed with her friends.
‘I’m Hana,’ a confident girl in a glittery red headscarf announces, shaking Aminah’s hand formally. I can’t help but giggle as she kisses her on both cheeks, like they’re grown-ups, even though she looks about our age. Her Arabic is much more pronounced than the others, whose accents have a slight American lilt to them.
The other girl, Ibtisam, introduces herself next, much more casually than her friend. ‘But you can call me Ib,’ she says, grinning at Aminah.
Hana waves a hand dismissively. ‘I prefer Ibtisam. It has more to it, don’t you think?’
‘I . . . guess so,’ Aminah agrees, her eyes darting between the two, clearly unsure which one to appease.
Ib laughs. ‘Thanks, Hana, for telling me how to pronounce my own name.’ She rolls her eyes, though her voice is affectionate.
Once the introductions are done, Rawan clears her throat. ‘So, are we ready for our first rehearsal?’
All three girls nod in unison.
‘I should start by explaining to Aminah why we picked Rapunzel,’ Rawan says.
‘Because Hana makes a really good witch,’ Ib grins, turning to Aminah. ‘You’ll see.’
Hana glares at her, then turns to Aminah too. ‘She’s right, I do! So don’t cross me.’
‘But also,’ Rawan interjects, ‘I think fairy tales are just magical. And they teach us about life. Rapunzel has to fend for herself, and she realizes there’s so much more to the world than she first imagined.’
Everyone falls silent for a moment, and the only sound is an orchestra of grasshoppers playing into the night.
But then Hana waves her hands, like a bossy wizard casting a spell. ‘Right. Let’s begin!’
The moon and stars shine bright and the air is warm as Aminah, Rawan and the others rehearse their scenes. Each of them holds a flashlight that they shine on their scripts while they recite their lines.
As the girls act out the scenes something spectacular happens. The silver branches, in bloom with dozens of yellow flowers now, slither down from the wall and on to the sand. The branches rise up, circling around the troupe, until they resemble a tall tower in the middle of a forest clearing – like a theatre set made entirely of wood.
I know this is all part of Mum’s imagination, filling in the gaps with wonder and magic.
Hana enters the set as the witch, and Rawan helps Aminah through her lines before taking up her role as the prince. From her bag she pulls a very real string of beautifully patterned materials all tied together, which Aminah plaits into her hair. She throws it down for Rawan to climb.
The branches transition seamlessly every time the scene changes – their silver light shines down on the girls making them glow, though this part of the play exists only for my eyes. This world in Mum’s mind is filled with her memories, but they’re different.
When I think back to some of the best and worst moments of my life I don’t really imagine them how they happened. I imagine them a bit different, more magical. Like the time I went to a birthday party at the local swimming pool. We were all mermaids chased by a deadly shark, then we were pirates searching for lost treasure.
Mum’s memories are a little like that, and this one is the most magical one I’ve experienced so far. Like it’s extra special.
Then comes a scene where the witch finds out Rapunzel has been meeting with the prince. In this version she tells her she will never ever leave, because she’s going to lock her up and throw away the key.
And I can’t help but think about Mum at the top of the house, trapped behind her bedroom door. All I want to do is unlock it and free her. All I want is for her to wake up.
The branches shine silver still, but an inky black courses through them like veins, and they look entirely alive. I reach out and they feel like the slimy skin of a frog. The witch pulls Mum to the darkest corner, and drags her into a room in the great big tower.
The memory makes it look all too real, though, and I run to the witch.
‘Stop it!’ I call, trying to pull her away from Mum.
The witch does what I say, like she’s heard me. She turns, facing me, and for one moment my heart freezes.
But then she looks upwards, beyond the wall, frowning. ‘What was that?’ she says, and she’s no longer the witch any more, and they’re no longer in the tower.
‘Just a twig,’ Rawan says dismissively.
Aminah doesn’t seem so sure. She’s staring at the wall as if she can see through the concrete. But before I can watch the end of the play the memory starts to disappear, like a great fog has clouded over it.
I’m back at Mum’s bedside again surrounded by silver branches. Right now they’re shaped like a giant hand. Its gnarled fingers wrap round Mum and me as we sit in its palm, protecting us from harm.
Back in primary school our whole year acted in a musical version of Alice in Wonderland. Elle was Alice, of course. I was cast as the Gryphon, who is only in the story for a tiny bit. Still, I was terrified, and almost didn’t do it. The day before the play I cried during the rehearsal.
Mum and Dad were still together then, and they both came to watch me perform.
As I sang I remember looking out into the audience. Mum was wiping her eyes with a tissue, crying. No, she was practically sobbing.
Afterwards she hugged me tight.
‘Mum,’ I choked. ‘You’re squishing me.’
‘You were wonderful, Safiya,’ Mum said, sniffing.
I laughed, smiling my gap-toothed grin. ‘Calm down, Mum. It was only a small part.’ Secretly I was happy because Mum can be hard to please.
‘Yes, but you did it beautifully, and you were very, very brave.’
I know now that she was proud because acting was something we both had in common. It was something we could share. But also it was about her past, and her friends, and everything she once knew. It was about her memories.
Mum was right: we aren’t so different after all. I thought we had to act the same on the outside to be similar, but we don’t. What matters is what we’re like inside. And just because we don’t like the same things doesn’t mean we’re not similar. Mum loves theatre, and I love gaming. They’re worlds apart, but we love them all the same.
If you cut Mum and me open we’d be filled with the very same fire, glowing red and orange and gold.
I now have a method when it comes to figuring out the objects. As soon as I came out of the last memory I wrote down every object I saw while I was there. I even made a note of the trees, and the clothes everyone was wearing. But it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.
Every time I feel like I have the game sussed it throws up another challenge. The last memory didn’t really have any objects in it, nothing Mum might keep. There’s the script, but I checked and Rawan said they don’t have it any more. Mum doesn’t either. The game has levelled up again, and I need to think outside the box. But thinking about it too much hurts my brain.
Eventually I decide to take a break from trying to figure out the next object to play a game of Fairy Hunters. Maybe if I clear my head it’ll help me see things from a new perspective.
My room disappears into dust and is replaced by the ruined palace. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the thoughts of Aminah. The fire fairy I’m protecting in my game morphs into her in my mind, and no matter how many times I blink I see her.
Our wizard opponents throw spell after spell at her and I try with all my might to protect her, to stop her from dying. But there’s too many of them, and too little of me.
Aminah is hit. She falls, but picks herself back up.
I trail behind, my heart thump, thump, thumping because I don’t want her to get hurt.
That’s when the doorbell rings, making me jump.
For a moment I hesitate. I just need a minute, one more minute. But the doorbell rings again and I lose focus entirely.
Aminah is hit, and so am I. We lose the game together.
I try to shake off the weirdness and run down the stairs. At first I think it’s Dad coming back from the weekly food shop without his house keys, but then Lady starts barking aggressively, so I know it can’t be him.
Unlike other dogs, who would run to the door, Lady scarpers off to the living room as soon as I get downstairs.
‘Traitor,’ I mutter, watching her disappear round the corner.
I answer the door, surprised to see Izzy.
‘Hiiiiii?’ I say, a little confused. We don’t live in the olden days, we have mobile phones to communicate now. Why is she at my house? I glance at my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed a message from her. Nope.
‘Sorry,’ she says, looking nervous. ‘We weren’t really sure how to explain on the phone so we . . . kind of just decided to come round.’
‘We?’ I ask, confused, and for a moment I think she means Elle and Abir. But it’s Charlotte and Gini who hang back a little, so I didn’t notice them at first.
I wonder for a moment whether I’m dreaming or in a strange memory that’s not my own.
‘Can we . . .’ Izzy hesitates. ‘Come inside?’
‘Oh!’ I say, snapping out of it. Be normal, Saff. ‘Of course! Er, shall I make hot chocolate?’
There’s a moment of silence, where I feel like I’ve asked exactly the wrong question, but then the girls’ faces light up and I relax.
‘Yes please!’ Izzy says, speaking for the trio.
‘Sorry to bother you . . .’ Charlotte says as we head into the kitchen. ‘We just wanted to . . . well, I suppose, talk.’
Lady waltzes in from the living room, having decided the girls aren’t a threat. She looks at me approvingly, like she’s trying to say ‘good choice’.
I almost tell her to shut up, except I realize she hasn’t actually spoken.
‘Is that your dog?’ Gini asks delightedly.
I turn round, looking shocked. ‘What dog? I don’t have a dog! Who is that?’
Gini looks up, surprised. ‘But she . . . Oh!’ She laughs. ‘Funny.’ She sits on the floor stroking Lady. I almost roll my eyes because Lady’s being fully charming. Big frog eyes blinking, tongue lolling. The others laugh too and I feel weirdly elated.
The four of us end up on my bed, drinks in hand, as Charlotte nominates herself to explain why they’re here.
‘Izzy told us about the other night at Maccies and what you did,’ Charlotte says, and she sounds so much more confident than she does at school.
As Charlotte speaks Gini watches her the way a person should look at their best friend, like she’s the most special person in the world. I’ve never really spoken to Gini, but I’ve noticed lately, from photos she uploads, how close she seems to be to her family abroad. Her parents are originally from Nigeria and they go back all the time during school holidays.
