Gamble

10. L-A-S-A-G-N-A

Two more days and I'm still uncertain. I stalked Adnan on every social media I could as it seemed like a rational thing to do at the time.

Before we arrived at school yesterday Zehra had asked me if I'd given the proposal much thought and I told her the truth: That it's the only thing going occupying my mind since that day. But I was still unsure. I was still too young to be making decisions this big, I wonder how Zehra had managed hers.

Just as I was off of my shift, I get a text from Zehra asking me to buy some groceries. I oblige and head towards the store. I take a basket from the row and maneuver my way through the aisles until I get to the ones that held pasta. I debate between linguini and elbow macaroni when a familiar voice grabs my attention.

I hadn't seen Nooh Suleiman outside school before, not in sweatpants and a hoodie and never in the pasta aisle of a grocery store.

'Just spell it out mom' he spoke in the phone that was balanced between his shoulder and his ear while he had his hands full with a basket and a box of linguini.

'L-A-S-A-G-N-A' he repeated the words to himself as his eyes roamed around the shelf.

I smiled to myself before I took a box of lasagna from the far left corner and brought it in his line of sight.

"Here" I offered.

"Thanks" he took the box before analyzing the person that gave it to him.

'Got it' he said hastily to the caller and cut the call.

Burying the phone in his pocket he said, "Hey"

"Hi" My phone vibrates in my pocket. It was Zehra. "Got to go. Zehra's not going to rest until she gets her pasta." I smile and turn to leave.

"Um...Can I ask you a favor?" he abruptly asks.

"Yeah sure"

"It's awkward but I don't have any other girl-" he stopped himself "female friend to talk to about this." He finds words to put in order "It's about my sister."

"After Lamaisa died, she has fallen on the wrong track. She's only 16 and" he composed himself "She was arrested for drugs last year."

I hadn't heard a word of it. The Suleimans surely know how to hide their stuff.

"She wouldn't talk to me. She can't. And mother's just as useless as I am in this situation. I've heard her talking about you. She likes you and I think you could talk to her, maybe? She needs someone."

His words touched my heart. Not many brothers care for their sisters when they themselves grieving.

He waited for an answer and I gave him one "I know how it feels to not to have anyone talk to. Of how you have to bury your thoughts deep down, afraid you'll open up to the wrong person." I look up at him "I will talk to her Nooh, I will."

For some reason I walked out of the store with both linguini and elbow macaroni.

***

I knocked thrice on the door of Nooh's apartment. I don't know why I didn't just rang the bell like normal 21st century people, maybe because I was secretly hoping they would not open and I would have an excuse to get the hell out of here.

When I woke up today, I didn't let myself think what I was getting myself into, because the more I thought the more I would conjure up reasons for not talking to Jinan. Hell I wasn't good at talking, that was Zehra's forte. I would probably be telling her a memory of my parents and we'd end up crying on each others shoulder.

The door opens and I am greeted by the kind smiling face of a woman. Probably late 40's.

"Assalam-u-Alaikum. I am-"

"I know who you are binti" she turns and motions me to come inside. "Come on in"

It was a very large house. Like very large. The room was elegantly decorated in cream and maroon hues.

We were quite sufficient ourselves but the Suleimans were plain rich.

"Nooh" she called out, her voice resonating in the gigantic living room.

Nooh rushed down the stairs, skipping steps in the process.

"Hey," I said when he reached where I was.

"You came" he looked surprised, as if not believing his eyes.

"Of course I did" I said.

"You and your friend sit in the patio; I'll bring something to eat" Mrs. Suleiman cooed and curried off.

"She's not my friend." Nooh said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Oh how I loved when guys did that. But I shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

She raised a brow.

"Oh I brought work. Fortunately your son is good with math" I butted in.

"Thankfully" she teased and left.

Nooh led me to a spacious patio, complete with sofas and a pool. A grill decorated one of the corners.

"Actually I did have some math work to discuss" I cut to the chase.

We could discuss something I already know until I grow accustomed to your house and talking to your sister could be a tad bit less awkward. I didn't say that.

We spent the next 30 minutes doing calculus until Nooh's mother called us to the kitchen.

She had laid out several snacks on the table along with plates and glasses. Nooh's sister Maria already seated on one of the bar stools.

"Hey Maria" I startled her from the back.

"Oh hey Yusur. I didn't know you were here" she smiled and extended her hand. I shook it.

Although we had talked many times at school, I actually had never been with her outside of it.

"What brings you here?" she asks and secretly winks at her brother which wasn't so secret at all.

I blush and raise the books in my hands "Calculus."

"Urgh how I hate math. Apparently Nooh and Lamaisa took all the math genes from my parents. They left none for me" she puts a French fry in her mouth.

I sat on one of the stools and served myself with some nuggets.

Nooh's phone starts ringing and he excuses himself.

He comes back a minute later "Yusur I have to go." He wears his leather jacket. "Maria" he calls out to his sister. "Take care of Yusur. You now....um....mom."

She laughs "I will."

Maria had a natural charm. I wasn't much of a peoples person but the way she talked me told me she liked me. All of the awkwardness I felt before disappeared. We talked about a range of thing. I told her she should be serious about her studies and was surprised to know she was a pretty good writer. She took me to her room and I read some of her work, clearly impressed. However there was one thing that caught my attention: Nooh's childhood stories.

It intrigued me to know he was a very mischievous child. She told some of his extreme activities and we both laughed until our stomach hurt.

An hour or so later I get a text from Zehra.

You need to come home. Now. It read.