Kicked Out by A. M. Dassu

Author:A. M. Dassu
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643796888
Publisher: Lee & Low Books
Published: 2024-02-14T01:02:04+00:00

Chapter 20

It was Thursday afternoon, and we were picking up Ahmed from his school football club. Mum had forced me to go with her. Well, she convinced me that if I helped her carry the ten kilograms of rice at the supermarket, my muscles would grow. And to be honest, I didn’t need more convincing. I wanted bigger arms.

It was weird to go back and look out at my old primary school. Everything seemed so small now, when it had felt huge when I was there.

Ahmed pulled the car door open and scrambled into the back.

“What are you doing here?” he said, gawping at me. “Last week you said you were never ever going to come and drop me off or pick me up from football ever again.” He tutted, and clicked his seat belt into place.

I turned from the passenger seat and looked at him. “That was ’cause you took five hundred hours getting changed and then expected me to carry your kit bag like I was your manservant.”

Mum turned the car engine on and glanced at both of us. “Oh, don’t start fighting, you two. Ahmed, I asked Ali to come because I want him to help me with the rice. And you should’ve thanked him for stepping in last week for me and picking you up when no one else could.”

I smirked at Ahmed, and he rolled his eyes and folded his arms before looking out the window.

We entered the supermarket car park, and Mum drove into a spot and pulled up her handbrake. The sky was overcast with clouds, but it was bright, as if the sun was going to burst through at any moment. Just as we all unclicked our seat belts, a car reversed into the spot in front of ours. It was a beat-up maroon car that looked an awful lot like . . . I shrank into my seat. It was Dad . . . with Mustafa.

They’d come to the supermarket at the same time as us.

Mum glanced up as she grabbed her handbag from my footwell, did a double take, and looked away again quickly. She clearly didn’t want to make eye contact.

“Just hold on, Ahmed.” She put her arm on his knee through the gap in the front seats to stop him from getting out. “Stay in the car.”

I wasn’t sure if Ahmed had clicked why.

Dad slammed his car door shut. He had his back to us, and I hoped he wouldn’t go into the back to get a bag out or anything. He followed Mustafa, who had already made his way past a few rows of cars.

I put my head back on my seat and clenched my jaw, watching them both swan off to do their special shopping together. Dad and son.

“Okay, boys, we need to talk,” said Mum, turning to face us both. She looked at me and nodded towards Ahmed as if to say to me, “This talk is for him.” She then turned to Ahmed. “I know it’s been a while since you saw your dad anywhere.

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