Shooting Kabul (18 page)

“S
O HOW'S YOUR PICTURE TAKING
coming along?” asked Noor. She slipped her pencil into her biology book and peered down at him from the dining room table.

“Not so good,” said Fadi with a weak smile. He sat on the floor, inspecting the inside pocket of his backpack. He'd already overturned the bag and scattered its innards all over the shaggy olive green carpet. The honey tin skidded to a halt next to the three-legged coffee table. Fadi quickly threw a notebook onto it so that Noor wouldn't ask what it was. The roll of film Ms. Bethune had given him that morning was nowhere in
sight.
Darn.
He'd planned on using it over the weekend.

“Not so good doesn't sound too good,” said Noor. “What happened?”

Fadi paused, hating to admit his last picture had been a failure. He sat back and sighed. “I thought I had come up with the perfect picture when I went to San Francisco with Dad. Now I'm not so sure.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. You've helped me enough already,” said Fadi. He unzipped the side flap and poked around. “You gave me the money to join the club. Now it's my responsibility to win the contest.” No film hidden among his pens and pencils.
I definitely left it at school. Double darn.

“Fadi,” said Noor, her voice an octave lower, “I know you're an excellent photographer. You know all the tricks Dad taught you, but don't be too disappointed if you don't win.”

Startled, Fadi looked up at her and frowned.
What does she mean, if I don't win?

Noor held up a hand. “Now, don't get me wrong. You probably have a better chance at winning than anyone else. But …”

“I'm going to win,” said Fadi, his voice stiff.

“Okay, okay,” said Noor. “I'm sure you will.”

Fadi stuffed everything back into his bag. “I just need
to come up with an amazing concept. Something unique … something that tells a story, is full of emotion, and connects with the viewer.”

“How about me?” said Noor. She struck a model's pose and batted her eyelashes.

“I want to win, not lose,” said Fadi. He gave her a mock grimace.

“Look here, you little twerp,” said Noor, shaking a fist at him. “Well, if you win that trip to India, it would be awesome.”

Fadi looked down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. His mother had barely come out all week. There'd been no news about Mariam for more than three weeks now.

Noor caught his wandering look and pursed her lips. “
Khala
Nilufer is coming later this afternoon. She's taking Mom shopping.”

“That's good. She needs to get out,” said Fadi. He shook off a feeling of unease.

“Tell me about it,” said Noor. Her lips twisted in frustration. “Her health is fine now. She's not doing herself any good by lying in bed all day long.”

“I know, especially when we have to eat Dad's cooking,” added Fadi.

They looked at each other and grinned, though worry
still lurked in their eyes.

Fadi zipped up his backpack. “Look, I left the film Ms. Bethune gave me at school. I'm going to go back and pick it up and then go to the lake for some inspiration.”

“Okay, but don't be late. I'm cooking dinner.”

Fadi pretended to gag and ran out the door as Noor threw a tattered cushion at him.

Fadi stood on his toes and felt along the top shelf of his locker. At the right corner he felt a familiar cylindrical shape.
There it is,
he thought with a sense of relief. He grabbed the roll of film and stuck it into his back pocket.
Now I've got six days to find that great shot. No pressure. Yeah, right.

He closed his locker with a muffled clang and headed back toward the front door. The only sound in the empty school was the slap of his tennis shoes against the checkered floor and the drone of the janitor's vacuum coming from the teachers' lounge. Fadi stepped outside and looked up at the sky.
Still another three hours till sunset.
Good. Perfect light to experiment
. He'd landed on the bottom step when a sharp rustle in the bushes along the side of the building caught his attention. He paused a second, then sped up.
Probably just a couple of
cats. But let's not take any chances.
He jogged toward the back of the school, which was the fastest way to get to Lake Elizabeth. He'd just rounded the corner when two guys burst through the bushes in a flurry of leaves.

“Catch him!” sounded Ike's familiar growl.

Crud,
thought Fadi. He leapt forward, toward the parking lot, and broke out into a run. His backpack thumped against his spine as he looked back. Ike sprinted after him, with Felix a few feet behind, brushing dried leaves from his hair. There were only two cars in the lot since school had ended hours before. His heart thumping wildly, Fadi reached the middle of the lot, passed an old station wagon, and swerved around a little red hatchback. He paused, breathing in short gasps. The lot was enclosed by a metal fence, and the gate that led to the side alley was closed.
Double crud!
Someone had locked it for the weekend.

“You head him off!” shouted Ike. He ran past the station wagon and pointed to Felix to go along the back.

“Oh, no,” whispered Fadi. He inched toward the hood of the tiny car, looking for someone, anyone, to help. The alley behind the school was desolate, and so was the playground.
I've got to get back to the front of the school and make a run for it.
He circled past the headlights as Ike reached the back of the hatchback. As
Ike came up the side, Fadi ran, flat out, back the way he'd come.

The distance back to the front of the building seemed miles away, and in his haste Fadi faltered, tripping on loose gravel. As he slowed, he caught sight of a side entrance, used by faculty and staff. Regaining his balance, he bolted sideways, coming to a stop at the double doors. He yanked on the handle. It was locked. He pounded against the sturdy metal. “Help!” he shouted, his voice a hoarse rasp.

Ike had circled around the hatchback and raced toward him. Fadi pushed off from the door and ran. But Ike was too fast for him. He grabbed Fadi's shirt from the side and yanked him back. Off balance, Fadi stumbled while Ike tackled him onto the rough asphalt. Fadi sprawled on the ground, scraping his hands and knees as he went down.

“Got you, you little terrorist,” hissed Ike, his breath hot against Fadi's ear.

With his face plastered against tiny fragments of gravel, Fadi saw shiny red and white high-tops pounding toward him.

“Way to go, Ike!” crowed Felix. While Ike held him down, Felix ripped off Fadi's backpack.

“Let's see what we got in here,” he said, and sniggered.
“A bomb? A manual for flying airplanes?”

“Let go of me,” said Fadi. He turned back toward the boys. Scratches ran along his left cheek. “Why are you doing this?” he yelled. “I haven't done anything to you.”

“Shut up,” growled Felix.

After unzipping the bag Ike violently shook it, dumping out its contents. The photography books went flying out first, followed by his pencil case and the honey tin.

“No!” Fadi yelped in horror as his Minolta XE tumbled out last. As if in slow motion, the camera sailed through the air and hit the black asphalt with a sickening crunch. Broken parts flew in all directions as a huge crack appeared in the lens.

Noooo! I need that to win the competition!
Blind rage flowed through Fadi, fueling a sudden burst of energy. He spotted Mariam's tin box and he growled—a deep, guttural animal sound. He twisted around and grabbed Ike by the shoulders. With superhuman force he pulled him down. Before Felix could react, Fadi used his legs to flip Ike to the ground and scrambled on top of the redhead's stomach.

“How could you do that?” he shouted, tears of rage slipping from his eyelashes. With balled fists he swung. He got in a good punch or two before Felix pulled him off. Fadi twisted in his grasp, bent sideways, and bit
Felix on the shin.

“Ow!” hollered Felix. He dropped Fadi like a hot potato and grabbed his leg. Fadi lunged forward and drove his head into Felix's stomach, knocking the wind out of the boy. They both tumbled to the ground.

“Why, you little … ,” yelled Ike.

As Fadi and Felix wrestled on the ground, Ike grabbed Fadi's legs. Fadi held on to Felix, and soon all three boys were a mess of arms and legs, rolling around the parking lot. As Fadi felt a punch to his jaw, he heard the rattle of doors open.

“Stop it right now!” ordered a high-pitched voice.

From a gap between Felix's leg and Ike's elbow Fadi caught a glimpse of the old white-haired janitor. The man dropped his trash bags and hurried toward them.

“Stop this instant, you ruffians!” he huffed.

“Let's go, man,” panted Ike. He got in a last punch to Fadi's side and pushed away.

Fadi held on to Felix's leg as Felix tried to get up.

“Get off me, you camel turd,” howled Felix.

The janitor had nearly reached them when Felix twisted away and ran after Ike, who'd climbed over the back fence. All Fadi could see were the broken pieces of his camera lying on the ground.
It's broken
. His heart sank.

“I'm going to have to report this to Principal Hornstein,” said the janitor, eyeing Fadi with suspicion. “Fights on campus are serious business, young man.”

Fadi nodded. He didn't care how much trouble he was in. He showed the janitor his ID, but claimed ignorance on the other two boys' identities. As the man returned to his trash bags, Fadi picked up his stuff, along with the pieces of his camera, and headed home.

N
OOR FOUND
F
ADI HIDING
in the darkened bathroom, behind the shower curtain. He sat in the tub, cradling his broken camera in his arms. She flipped on the lights and leaned over the side of the tub. Her eyes widened seeing his puffy face, but it was the blotches of blood spattered on the front of his T-shirt that made her scream. Within seconds their parents burst into the cramped orange tiled room.

“Oh, Allah, have mercy,” cried Zafoona. She pushed past Noor and knelt next to the bathtub. Habib followed close behind.

Zafoona and Noor pulled Fadi up out of the tub and settled him on the toilet.

“What happened?” asked Habib.

Still in shock Fadi barely felt the pain as his mother grabbed his face and turned it toward the light. “A couple of guys jumped me as I was leaving the school,” he said.

“If I get my hands on those boys … ,” growled Zafoona, her eyes lit with fire. Then her face softened and she kissed Fadi on the tip of his nose.

Habib's lips tightened as he rifled through the medicine cabinet. He took out a dark bottle of peroxide and bandages and placed them on the counter.

Fadi looked up at Habib with teary eyes. He held out the camera, his hands shaking. “They broke it, Father. They broke it.”

Habib took the camera and knelt down. “Don't worry about it,
jaan
. The most important thing is that you weren't seriously hurt.”

Noor's eyes narrowed. “Did they try to rob you?”

Fadi blinked. “No,” he mumbled.

“Did they call you names?” pushed Noor.

“Yes,” said Fadi. “They said I was a terrorist.”

Silence descended in the cramped room.

“Fighting is not the answer, Fadi
jaan
,” his father said. “It never solves the problem.”

Zafoona shook her head in anger and stood up. She took cotton balls out of the jar next to the sink and grabbed the bottle of peroxide.

“I know, Dad,” said Fadi. A flare of anger went through him. Ike and Felix had attacked him, and he hadn't done anything to them to provoke it. He wanted them to suffer, like he was suffering.

“Who were they?” asked his mother. She dabbed at his face with a cotton ball soaked in peroxide.

Fadi winced at the stinging. “I don't know who they were,” he said.
I can't tell them. Dad's going to drag me to school, and my name will be mud for ratting them out. Then I'll really get it
.

“Are you sure?” asked Noor. “Have you seen them around in the school?”

“It's an awfully big school,” mumbled Fadi. “I've never seen them before.”

As the three of them fussed over him, Fadi's thoughts shifted to the competition. How was he going to enter without a camera? There were only six days to submit the winning shot.

“Your face still looks awful,” whispered Noor. She sat next to Fadi in the backseat of the car as Habib drove
down Thornton Avenue. “I should have put some concealer on it.”

“No way,” grumbled Fadi. “You're not coming anywhere near me with makeup.” He gingerly touched his swollen lip and let out a pent-up breath. It was their parents' wedding anniversary, and for once Habib didn't have to drag Zafoona out of bed so that they could go out for dinner. It was as if his getting beaten up were the medicine his mother had needed to shake off the blanket of sorrow that had been suffocating her. Fadi was glad to see her coming out of her funk, but he was in no mood to celebrate.