Wounded: Our Journey Home

Wounded- Chapter Thirty Eight

Edited:

the more comments and votes, the faster I update. Let's strive for 20 comments and 40 votes

Published: Tuesday, December 8th 2015 4:36 pm

Ayah:
October 25th

          I stood, leaning on the wall of the kitchen, watching as Jafar stared down his phone, a look of concentration on his face. He's been like this the whole fall break, watching and waiting for one or both of them to confirm the offer. This has seriously been the longest ten days of my life; watching him stress over these boys, putting his faith in them that they'll do the right thing. He eventually told me about his deal with Jake, and ever since then, he's been on edge with this. But the whole staring at the phone thing is funny to watch.

         "Jafar?"

         "Yeah?"

         I smiled at him and walked forward to sit in the couch beside him.

         "The phone isn't going anywhere."

         "It could ring any second, and I need to know about it."

         "I think that's why ringers were invented," I teased.

          Jafar playfully glared at me and leaned back on the couch, letting out a deep breath and running his hands over his face.

          "If this is really stressing you out, why do it?"

          "Because everyone who has some say in the school doesn't think he should be on the team, and he hasn't shown them a single reason why he should stay. Jake keeps pressuring me about just kicking him off the team, but I'm not going to let that happen."

          "Is this about what happened to you a couple years back?"

        At first he didn't answer me and kept staring ahead of him, but he eventually nodded.

         "Everyone was against me for three reasons: I'm not their race, I'm Muslim, and I don't have influential people rooting me on. I don't know why I stayed. Probably just to prove them wrong, which I did, but my mind has been mixed up ever since."

        "It's still that bad? I thought they stopped all of that."

         "They didn't."

          During that time of Jafar's life, it was one of the worst I've seen him.  And now with this whole thing with Mu'adh, I highly doubt he'll just let it go.

          "I got a message," He sighed and opened up his phone, a small smile playing at his lips. "Wasim's in agreement. One down, one to go."

         "Can you at least promise me that you won't be as affected as when you played?"

        "No," He shook his head and my heart sank for him. "I can't promise you that."

-*-

          After Jafar left a couple of hours ago to play a pickup game with Luca, I've been trying to find the best way to talk to Mama. I know she's still upset with me for opening up the boxes without asking or telling her of my intentions even if she doesn't confirm it, and now I feel responsible for her saddened mood. It's not as bad as when she has an episode from her condition, but it's still sad. I've tried talking to her about it, but she refused. And when I went into the garage, I knew why.