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

She takes the phone from my sister and holds it up to her and Tayta’s faces. I pull my eyes away from Mum and notice my tayta’s smooth skin. She has a new glow to her cheeks, and a sparkle in her eye.

‘Ya ibni, ana mishtaktilak,’ she says in her gentle voice.

‘I miss you too, Tayta!’

Mum wraps her free arm around Tayta’s shoulder. ‘She’s doing so much better, habibi. I haven’t heard her cough once since yesterday.’

She’s smiling through teary eyes. I think back to the dua I made by my tayta’s bed. I know Allah was listening.

My bedroom door swings open.

‘Is that your mum’s voice I can hear?’ Dad says. He’s carrying his mosque-shaped alarm clock. ‘Look what I found in the freezer. It’s frozen solid.’

He taps his knuckles against it, then pops the clock on my windowsill to thaw.

Dad picks up Raheed and sits beside me on the bed. From the soft look on his face, I can tell he’s noticed my tayta’s glow too.

Mum kisses Tayta on the cheek and carries the phone with her further into the garden. Huda appears behind her, swinging from one of the big branches on the mulberry tree.

‘Oi, Akeaw! Wish you were here! This is the best climbing tree ever!’ my sister calls to me.

I can only just make out what she’s saying, because her mouth is full of mulberries. Even from here, I can see that her face is stained with purple juice. Mum glances up at Huda and laughs.

‘It’s almost like the more time my mum spends with Huda, the stronger she gets. It’s so strange!’ Mum tells my dad.

‘You want to hear something even stranger?’ Dad retorts. ‘These kids are keeping this house spotless. I haven’t seen one dish in the sink, or an empty toilet roll on the bathroom floor, since we got home.’

Mum’s eyebrows jump so high they almost reach her hijab. ‘Let’s hope it stays that way. Any news on the tickets?’

‘Yes, all sorted. The travel agent is sorting out the best deal for us for the next school break.’

I leap off my bed in excitement. ‘Next holidays? We’re going to Lebanon?!’

Mum and Dad nod.

‘We’re all finally going on that holiday,’ Dad says. ‘Together.’

And on both sides of the world at once, Huda and I dance with joy.

Acknowledgements

Although Huda and Me is a work of fiction, the parents and siblings in the story are real. They are my family.

Mum and Dad – Hend and Ibrahim – you are the best parents in the world. Thank you for giving me everything I needed in this world. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for always being there. You are the most selfless and giving human beings to ever walk this earth.

To my siblings – Omar, Kholoud, Suha, Layla, Akeal and Raheed – you aren’t as nice to me as Mum and Dad are, but I guess you’re all right. Each of you has made me a better person in your own way. Omar, you are generous. Kholoud, you are kind. Suha, you dress up as Superman and that makes me laugh. Akeal, you should’ve given me more of your stuff. Layla, I like it when you buy me things. Raheed, you are perfect. We all know the real stories.

K.L. and N.I., my sweet boys, what did I do to deserve you? I wrote this for you, my loves.

Fadey – I’ve never met anyone like you and I know I never will. Thank you for all the good you’ve brought into my life.

This book wouldn’t have been possible without some truly extraordinary people.

Thank you to Jodie Webster, my publisher, for believing in the manuscript of Huda and Me. Thank you for your gentle guidance, suggestions and special kindness. Without you, this story of a little Muslim girl on a mission would still be sitting in a file on my desktop. Thank you, thank you.

Elise Jones, where do I start? As an editor, you embraced the story, guided me and cast magic with letters and words (and snips). As a human, you are the best of them. No one else could have made this book what it is. No amount of thanks will ever be enough.

To Kirsty Murray, my Faber Writing Academy at Allen & Unwin tutor, you inspired me from day one. You believed in me and this book. You answered my million questions and eased my doubts. I’ll never forget your advice, encouragement and support.

Huge thanks to the team at Allen & Unwin – you have brought Huda and Me to life. Forever professional, always kind, you have all made the process of submission through to publication a pleasure. I am so lucky.

Thank you, Nick Richardson. I remember sitting at a café on Sydney Road in 2014, telling you about this idea I had, about funny memories from my childhood and the naughty stuff I did. You gave me the advice I needed: there needs to be a story. Thanks to you, here it is. Two years earlier, you believed in me as a journo and gave me my first job in the newsroom. You’re a special sort of person, Nick.

Obayda Kannouj – there will only ever be two in the club. Cut! We laughed when it was good and we laughed when it was bad. This book wouldn’t have happened without you. Thank you for inspiring me, every single day. PLTs 4eva.

To all the little Muslim girls and boys, wherever you are – you can do anything. You are enough. You don’t need to change. Close your eyes and choose your own adventure. Now go for it.

Without Allah’s blessing, this book would not exist. Alhamdulliah, always.

About the Author

H. Hayek is the second-youngest of seven children, born to Lebanese-Australian parents. She was born in Adelaide, grew up in Perth and now lives in Melbourne. She struggled with reading and writing through her earliest years at school, but knew from the time she was a little girl that