Huda and Me, H. Hayek [book series for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

restaurants while she had dinner with people who she called ‘suitors’.

She took Raheed everywhere with her, too – except for when she took me and Huda to or from school. Then she left him with the twins. I hadn’t seen him since the night Mum and Dad left.

‘So, what did we learn at school?’ she pushed. She was still twisted around, staring at us.

‘Nothing,’ I said.

Huda shrugged her shoulders.

Aunt Amel pressed her lips together and then swung back to face the front. But she wasn’t done with the conversation.

‘The twins have been working hard to perfect their biscotti,’ she blathered. ‘I must say, their custard-cream biscuits are my favourite so far – with a nice mug of oolong tea.’

The drive home was short. I wished she’d just let us walk.

‘And I had the best pedi and mani today. Look at my nails! First I told Kholoud I wanted red, but then I changed my mind. Aren’t they divine?’

She lifted her hands to show us. They were a metallic bronze. Worse than red.

When we pulled into our driveway, my sister lunged out of the car before Omar had even pulled the handbrake. I followed suit, but Aunt Amel was faster. She leapt between us and the front door and grinned.

‘Wait, children! Come, come, my little butler and maid. Remind me, what is your evening routine?’

Aunt Amel already knew the answer. She’d asked us this very same question yesterday afternoon.

Huda just sighed, so I decided to answer for the both of us.

‘Put all our school uniforms in the wash, hang them out, put fresh sheets on the beds, do the dishes, vacuum the rooms and …’

This was the bit I hated the most. Aunt Amel peered down at me. I knew she was excited. ‘And …?’

‘Give you a foot rub and scalp massage before tidying the bathroom.’

Aunt Amel patted me on the head. ‘Good boy!’ She turned to Huda and said pointedly, ‘Remember, it takes a village! Your parents would be so proud of you! Now, off you go, the night is still young! But keep it down – we don’t want to wake Raheed from his afternoon nap!’

We raced to get away from her, though I spared a thought for my big brother Omar and looked back to see him still sitting in the car, slumped over the steering wheel.

In the kitchen, the smell of baked goodies filled my nose. Hundreds of different biscuits, muffins and cupcakes lined the benches. For a second, I thought I was in the wrong house. But then I saw Suha slouched over the counter, surrounded by muffin tins and baking trays.

‘How did you manage to make all of this after school?’ Huda asked, licking her lips.

‘We didn’t,’ Suha mumbled.

‘You didn’t bake this?’

A second voice chimed in: ‘We didn’t go to school.’ It was Layla. She was on the ground – I could see her feet poking out from behind the counter.

‘You stayed home to bake?’ I asked.

‘Yeh. We haven’t been to school all week.’

I’d assumed Omar and Aunt Amel had been dropping them off every morning after us. Huda shivered and snorted at the same time. Suha’s eyes welled with tears.

‘We’ve been trying so hard to make the best recipes,’ she said. ‘Aunt Amel says we’re getting better but we’re not there yet. Not good enough to be on TV.’

I picked up a mini cupcake with fancy red icing on top that looked like a rose and shoved it into my mouth. Huda did the same.

‘Tastes pretty good to me!’ I said between chews.

I wanted to stay and breathe in the sugary smells and make my sisters feel better, but I heard Aunt Amel’s footsteps on the verandah. ‘C’mon, Huda, she’s coming.’

Huda swiped a chocolate cookie, then both of us grabbed two more cupcakes and we headed to our rooms to change into our cleaning clothes.

Grabbing the empty washing basket from the laundry, I couldn’t help but think of all the bowls with dried batter and crusty pans we’d have to scrub tonight. There was no point collecting the twins’ uniforms for washing – I wished I’d known that yesterday. So I headed to Kholoud’s room, knocking gently on my big sister’s door.

Nothing. I knocked a little harder. Then I heard it – a muffled sob.

I pushed open her bedroom door just enough to poke my head through. ‘Kholoud … you okay?’

She was sitting on her bed, but she wasn’t alone. She was leaning on Huda’s shoulder, and Huda was stroking our big sister’s head.

Huda looked at me with sad eyes then turned back to Kholoud. ‘Sshhhh, it’s okay. You’re going to be an amazing make-up artist one day.’

Kholoud bawled. The top part of Huda’s cleaning shirt was covered in blobs of tears and snot now, as well as its bleach marks and some gross-looking stains.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Huda went on, ‘I love the way you do my make-up, and the way you give me advice about colour-matching.’

Kholoud lifted her head and looked at Huda. I thought she was going to say something, but instead she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. I let myself into the room and closed the door behind me.

Kholoud turned to me. ‘I really do my best. I lay out her clothes every morning, even her accessories and shoes – just like she tells me. I do her hair, and that’s the worst, because she barely has any. But she always complains. She says I’m trying to make her into someone she’s not, and then she makes me start over.’

I didn’t understand this making-yourself-beautiful stuff, but I understood how it felt when your best wasn’t good enough. I gave my big sister a hug.

Just then the door creaked open and the twins staggered in. They plonked themselves onto the bed. I was surprised Kholoud let them do that – she rarely lets any of us in her room, unless we have secrets or bubblegum to share. Omar must’ve seen the twins,