A Test of Loyalty

Part 9: Ashleigh and Faraj

Ashleigh

"Stupid white bitch." She just walked away, like she couldn't see something was wrong. Little princess probably couldn't see past her own blond perfect nose. Do I look okay? Do I look like there's nothing wrong? No! But off she went, happy as a freaking lark. To hell with her.

I just sat there, wondering what to do. I didn't dare stay here, it was too close to the apartment, but I didn't know where else to go. I had been hoping to go up to white girl's place; Jeff would never bother me there. But white girl was too full of herself to notice I'm upset. And scared, I had to admit, Jeff had never been really violent before, just pushy.

I decided to go find Carrie Whitehorse. A little something to get a buzz on, dull the pain. That's what I needed, and Carrie always had good stuff. For a moment I wondered how to pay for it, but figured Carrie'd be okay with fronting me the stuff. She knew I was good for it, and this was an emergency.

I pulled myself to my feet; I couldn't believe how much I hurt. It felt like Jeff had cracked a couple of my ribs, maybe my arm, too. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying, I absolutely was not going to cry over this bastard. I was Mohawk, the greatest race of warriors on Earth and I was not going to cry.

A tear slipped out anyway.

This time it was beyond just creepy, it was really scary. What if I didn't get away next time? What if he managed to... really hurt me? My mind skittered along the edges of what he was trying to do, I usually joked about it, but I was terrified of him.

What if he killed me to prevent my calling the cops? What if he killed my mom too?

Then white girl came back.

Faraj

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck bristle with anger. I imagined you could practically see sparks, like my hair was made of small electrical wires. I knew how rude I must look, stomping off in anger, and I was sorry to disappoint Fadi. I knew he wanted me to stay polite, fit in, and do nothing to draw attention. But I was so angry at my grandmother. At everything and everybody.

Those men in London, who'd tried to strike a blow against the non-believers, were only a little older than me. I couldn't imagine what it took to drive to the place where you knew you were going to die. To sacrifice everything for what you believed in. I was stunned by the thought, unable to wrap my brain around that kind of courage. Or foolhardiness. I wasn't sure I agreed with their actions, I mean, I understood their anger. That was for sure, but to kill innocent people? Soldiers, yes. They knew they could be killed when they signed up. They might even deserve it. But children? Pregnant women? Students?

I felt so confused. I had to talk to Fadi; he'd be able to explain things so they made sense again.

Although I didn't like Fadi's friend Ali, I had to respect him as a brother. He had learned Allah's will as a child, his father was a Mullah. Which he never let me forget, and never stopped pointing out that my grandmother and uncle were liberals. Trying to fit in. They were to be hated, as I was supposed to hate the people who lived here.

But they weren't all bad. And I loved my grandmother. I didn't agree with her politics, but I loved her.

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