A Guide to Charming Royals

Chapter Seventeen: LEILA

"I'm thinking of moving into a condo," Hooyo says, glancing at each one of us around the dining table, making her point once she adds, "A one bedroom condo."

Rekin, though twenty-seven, leans forward in his chair like a five-year-old, reaching for Hooyo's hand, as he cries, "Please, don't kick me out. How will I live without you, mother?"

Hooyo pulls away from him, nonchalant, returning to her food. "Leave me alone. Go get married, have kids, grow old somewhere else."

I watch my siblings around the table, each of them reacting differently to Hooyo's words. My oldest sister, Hareem appears happy, talking about buying herself an apartment, while Rekin, the most dramatic of them all, continues to complain.

I'm not entirely sure how I feel at this revelation, whether it makes me sad because I recall growing up in this house, each corner engraved with multiple memories, most of them ending with me making a fool out of myself, or whether I am indifferent because I have watched my parents struggle financially, have seen them fought to put food on the table, clothes on our bodies, and I have found myself stranded between their expectations for each other, for their future. These expectations pushed them so far, until they became two strangers bonded by promises neither could fulfill. And watching them, I learned it was better to lower your expectations, to embrace the hollowness in order to avoid disappointment.

"This is all your fault," he says, setting a glare on Sumaria.

Sumaria turns, seething. Being the youngest after me, she is also used to having fingers pointed at her, burdening the blame for most things that go wrong in the house.

"If you hadn't brought in jinns to our house, Hooyo wouldn't be wanting to leave."

"Those are my friends, not jinns!" Sumaria claims, placing a crystal charm bracelet to her chest. "Don't be rude, because they'll hear you."

Now here is where the difference between Sumaria and me starts. While I am blamed for things beyond my control, Sumaria usually brings it upon herself, for example by trying to possess our house.

Sumaria turns her glare to me. "Maybe it's your fault. You broke the fridge last week, and before that the bathroom faucet."

"They fell off! I blame it on your friends. If you'd never called those jinns into our house, we wouldn't be worried about a possession."

"Remember the time you hid your periods for a year and pretended you were having nose bleeds," Sumaria says. "That's why I had to call my friends. So that our house could be protected because I was worried you were dying."

"Astaghfirullah," Hooyo mumbles.

Rekin and Laith chokes on their drinks, both males lowering their gazes to their food. I am so glad Aabo isn't here. 

Oh my Allah.

I am so thankful for my phone vibrating, hiding me from this embarrassment I call my life. I pull it out under the table. It's a message from Ruaa, informing me, just like I'd asked after figuring out why his jacket had seemed familiar, that Salar has left the house. Even though a couple of hours ago, when he'd been out with me, Ariah and her boys, he said he'd been tired and feeling unwell. Either Salar is up to something or he likes to pretend to be mysterious.

And I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

The legs of my chair scrape the ground as I rise. "This is really heartbreaking for me," I say, feigning a sniffle. "Please excuse me, while I go cry in my room to deal with this."

Before anyone can stop me, I slip out of the dining room, running down the hallway and to the front entrance. I'll be back before anyone realizes I'm gone.

#

Salar drives fast. No, he drives like a madman on the run, being chased by wolves, or worse. In the dead of the night, it is even more difficult to follow him, because if I tail him, he'll know he's being stalked.

As I follow him, the car lurching over a pothole, I think about Sumaria's words, about how I had hid my periods for a year, because I'd been worried, no, saddened that I had been growing up. That I would become one of the girls, my other immature friends made fun of. And I didn't want to grow up. I wanted to... I wanted to hold onto my childhood for as long as I could. There is an innocence in being young, a mask I could were of naivety as a child.

So, I set out on a mission to find Peter Pan, and steal some of his immortality.

Kidding, but still.

The streets around me change from sleek grey sidewalks and tall skyscrapers to naked trees slowly booming with the promise of spring. I think we're headed out of the city, but the car comes to a stop on the freeway before we pass any green sign that indicates a nearby destination. Good, I'd hate to waste expensive gas.

The only issue is, now we're in the middle of nowhere.

There is no sign of civilization, except for empty, abandoned cars in what seems to be a gravel covered parking lot. The lake rests silently, a fog covering the mountains basking in the night's cloak. Is it possible that these cars have been sitting here for days, and its owners are dead, starved and or consumed by some monsters lurking in the dark...? Calm down, Leila, and control your wild imagination.

I wait in my car, making sure my doors are locked. Salar steps out of his car, kicks the door shut, and turns, looking in my direction. I still, wholly wanting to blend in with the night. As he walks toward me, I feel like the wild animals amongst the trees assessing their predators, considering whether to reverse or run him over.

The latter option sounds very tempting.

So, I place my car on drive, moving my foot from the brake to the accelerator, and slowly inch forward. I don't want to kill him. I'll just injure him, so that I can pass off my appearance as part of his imagination.

He breaks into a jog toward me, straying clear from my path, as if he knows, has heard the thoughts coursing through my mind. Once he is closer, he throws up his hands and frowns. I have no choice but to break, and wait for him to near.

My heart pounds in my ears, and I'm afraid I'll vomit.

I'll be deemed an official stalker in his eyes, blacklisted, thrown out... Allah knows what he'll do.

But my worries dissipate once his lips split into a grin, street lights following him all the way to my car. That's until he knocks on my window, motions for me to lower it and says, "What have I told you about following me? I could very well be leading you to your death."

Now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.