Fight Back by A. M. Dassu

Author:A. M. Dassu [Dassau, A. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lee & Low Books
Published: 2022-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I went straight up to my room when I got home, flung my school headscarf on my bed for Furball to nuzzle, and decided I’d focus on my maths homework after I’d finished zuhr, the afternoon prayer. It might settle the choking feeling in my chest and settle my breathing, and get Darren out of my head.

I plunked my textbooks on my desk, knocking over my deodorant and perfume bottles. I put them back in place, but took the lid off the perfume Lisa had given me for Christmas even though she knew we didn’t celebrate it. I moved it under my nose and inhaled the sweet, warm smell. It took me straight to the moment when Lisa had given it to me in my bedroom. I’d ripped the snowman wrapping paper off and squealed — it made me feel so grown up. We’d hugged and sprayed it over our wrists just like those Snappo influencers.

I put the perfume back and told myself to stop thinking about how nice she used to be — I had maths homework to do. Rummaging around my school bag again, I couldn’t find my calculator. I must’ve left it in my locker. I’d have to borrow Yusuf’s.

I pulled my door shut to make sure Furball didn’t follow me. Yusuf’s bedroom door was ajar and he was chatting with someone. I raised my knuckles to knock but something he said made me stop.

“Yeah, we’re gonna sort their ‘white zone’ faces! Don’t worry, bro! They think they can do us damage? Let them try, just let them try!”

Some animated sounds came from his call.

“Yeah, man … Brothers unite!” Yusuf said.

Oh god. Oh, no, I was having déjà vu — this was the same stuff I’d heard earlier that afternoon but from different people in a different place. Both of them wanted to hurt each other. To wipe each other out. Like threatened lions killing invading lions to claim their territory in a wildlife documentary. And one of them was my own brother.

Yusuf was an idiot. He couldn’t get involved in this sort of stuff. He wasn’t thinking. This wasn’t going to be like when he was at Ratcliffe Academy and the boys fought with Darren’s year at St. John’s in the school fields because they hated each other’s schools. This would be a million times worse.

I pushed the door in and barged into his room. He was sitting on his bed in shorts and a white T-shirt, the smell of freshly sprayed deodorant lingering in the air. He lowered his laptop lid and scowled at me. “Get out.”

“I need your calculator,” I said, going to his cluttered desk.

“Get out of my room, Aaliyah!” His eyes narrowed and he pushed his laptop open again. “Sorry,” he said to the person on his call. “It’s just my sister. Hang on.”

“I’m going nowhere till you give me your calculator. I have to hand in my maths tomorrow. I need it.”

He bounced off his bed, threw open his desk drawer and shoved his Casio in my stomach.

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