Huda and Me by H. Hayek (summer beach reads TXT) 📗

of the water travel through my toes and then up my legs until it reached my tummy. It made my insides feel snug.

‘What do you think Mum and Dad are going to say when we get there?’ I ask my sister, who’s gazing out the window.

When she turns back to me, I realise just how tired she looks. Her eyes are bloodshot. ‘They’ll be happy.’

‘Reckon they’ll believe us when we tell them what Aunt Amel did?’

‘Yeh, course they will.’ My sister yawns. She doesn’t cover her mouth.

‘They think Aunt Amel’s great, though. Why would they believe us?’

‘Coz we’re their kids, silly.’

My sister yawns again and stretches out her arms, knocking me in the head.

‘Don’t worry, Akeal. It’s gonna be good. Lebanon is going be so fun. We’re gonna see Mum and Dad, plus all the cool stuff we’ve seen in the photos.’

I’m not sure my sister is right. I’m not sure what will happen when we arrive. I think back to the old photos of Mum and Dad in Lebanon and I just know they’re happy like that now. They belong in Lebanon. That’s where they’re from. But I don’t know anything about being Lebanese, other than a few words and some food. I’m fake. Like a try-hard, trying to pretend I’m Lebanese. I don’t even know when the right time to serve the coffee is if people come over, or how to have a proper conversation in Arabic without stuttering.

We should’ve stayed in Melbourne. At home. With our brothers and sisters. Pain stabs through my stomach again. It’s hard to breathe.

‘Should I ask Martin to get you some warm milk or something?’

I shake my head.

We left them, I think. We left them there with her. The thought of my siblings still suffering with Aunt Amel feels like a knife in my guts.

I start to pray. I make a special dua that my brothers and sisters are safe; that they’ve covered for us somehow, so Aunt Amel hasn’t even realised we’re missing; and that we’ll get through Beirut Airport and make it to Mum and Dad. By the time I’m finished, Huda has fallen asleep. She’s sprawled across her tray-table. I pat her head, even though I know she can’t feel it.

‘I’m sorry, Buds.’

I close my eyes and try to sleep but all I can see are my brothers’ and sisters’ faces, so instead I stare ahead at the blank screen in front of me.

I’m not sure whether two minutes or two hours go by, but the sound of the pilot clearing her throat over the speaker stirs me.

‘We will be experiencing some unexpected turbulence. Please buckle your seatbelts and remain seated.’ The pilot’s voice sounds twitchy. Huda shifts and opens her eyes.

Martin rushes towards us to make sure we’re strapped in and then checks on the other passengers. He isn’t smiling, so I know this is serious. He hurries to his spot in the middle of the plane and I see him strap himself in.

Huda’s in her own world. I can tell the last week has finally caught up with her. She calmly puts on her earphones and starts browsing for another movie to watch. She pulls her remaining jellybeans out of her pocket and pops several of them into her mouth. I don’t think even sugar can help her now.

The plane sails along smoothly, and I’m not sure what the fuss was about. Everyone on the plane carries on chitchatting and everything feels and looks the same – except for the flashing seatbelt sign. Then the plane jerks a bit and everyone goes silent.

‘Whoa!’ some man calls out. People think that’s funny and laugh. I don’t think it’s funny, and Huda doesn’t care.

Most passengers think the worst is over and keep chatting. A woman unclips her seatbelt and stands up to go to the toilet, but Martin spots her and calls out for her to take her seat. She mumbles something and sits.

I’m not sure if the woman’s even done up her seatbelt when the plane jerks a second time. It grumbles hard and shakes like we’re in a can of fizzy drink. My head feels light, but I’m still not too worried. Huda isn’t either, even though some of her jellybeans have rolled off her tray-table onto the floor. She looks at them, then at me, sticks out her tongue and keeps watching her movie.

Then everything goes into slow motion. The plane almost stops. It drops from the sky and quickly pulls itself back up. I grip my hands to the armrests as the feeling of being on a rollercoaster sweeps over me. My stomach wants to jump out of my mouth, but I tense up to keep all my insides in.

The cabin lights go out and everything goes dark. I tighten my grip on the armrest and in the gloom, Huda looks at me again. But this time I see fear. Her eyes are wide open now. She grabs my hand. The plane drops again, even harder, and shakes wildly from side to side. The overhead lockers burst open and bags and suitcases fall into the aisles. Books and papers and food drop from tray-tables and the laps of passengers. Babies cry and little kids scream. I close my eyes.

This is it. We ran away, and now we won’t make it to our parents. Our photo will be on the news. This is what happens when you steal and lie and wag school. Even though Aunt Amel treated us like dirt, we should’ve just put up with it until Mum and Dad came back. I mean, was it even really that bad? What’s wrong with scooping a bit of chicken poo and making a few beds? Now we’re going to end up in a million tiny skeleton pieces on some mountain somewhere.

The plane keeps shaking from side to side. It’s worse than the scariest theme-park ride imaginable. My head hurts, my necks hurts. I open my eyes and watch as the passengers ahead of me wibble