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

because he followed a moment later and closed the door behind him.

‘Where is she?’ Huda asked.

Layla stuffed her face into the doona.

‘She’s outside talking to Mr Kostiki,’ said Omar.

Perhaps I was imagining it, but he looked scrawnier than he had a few days ago. His eyes were red and he rubbed at them.

‘She just finished lecturing me on how to drive in a dust storm. We’ve never had a dust storm – let alone had to drive in one! I don’t know what planet she’s on!’

We nodded in agreement. Layla removed her face from the doona so she could speak. ‘I can’t bake anymore. My hands are about to fall off. She doesn’t even drink half the cups of tea we bring her. I’m falling behind at school, and I think we’ve used up all the flour in the supermarket.’

We all looked at each other.

‘What are we gonna do?’ Huda asked.

No one spoke at first, because none of us knew the answer. But then I realised it was simple.

‘We tell Mum and Dad!’

‘How do we do that? If they ring she’ll just tell them we’re out, or asleep. She won’t want us talking to them. And we can’t call them – she hides the phone. I’ve looked everywhere for it.’ Kholoud had clearly thought about this already. Mum and Dad don’t believe kids should have phones, so there was only one in the house. And Aunt Amel had it.

‘I’ll tell Mr Kostiki then,’ Huda chimed in.

‘She doesn’t let you go over there anymore,’ I reminded my sister.

‘Leave it to me, folks. Leave it to me.’

It was eleven p.m. and Huda and I still hadn’t finished our butler and maid duties, but Aunt Amel wanted her massage.

‘Hud Hud, Akoolie, I’m reaaady!’

Aunt Amel was already laid out on Dad’s recliner couch. She ripped off her hijab. I heard Huda whimper beside me, but she stepped forward and took her spot near Aunt Amel’s head.

‘Make sure your hands are warm this time,’ Aunt Amel snapped. ‘Last time you gave my head a chill with your bitterly cold fingers.’ And she closed her eyes and rested her head back.

Huda breathed into her hands and then rubbed them together. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders, then glanced towards Aunt Amel’s feet with big eyes as if to say, Your job is way worse.

‘Akeal, where are you? Hurry up, please – I need to relax! My feeties are waiting.’

Aunt Amel wriggled her long toes. Thank God she was wearing socks. One was blue with stripes, and the other was green with dots, but I’d rather odd socks than no socks at all. I stepped forward and rubbed my hands together like Huda, to buy myself some time.

‘Come on, children, I’m tired! Shopping all day has made me sore!’

I kneeled beside Aunt Amel, then I reached in and began to knead the balls of her feet. Huda closed her eyes and did the same on Aunt Amel’s head. I could tell my sister was trying to imagine she was somewhere else.

‘Too hard, Huda. I want to unwind, not have my scalp squashed!’ Aunt Amel grumbled.

Huda pulled a face and poked her tongue out at Aunt Amel, who still had her eyes closed.

I muffled my laugh with a cough and moved my hands towards Aunt Amel’s toes. This was the worst bit – massaging toes. They felt like talons on a bird’s foot. I squeezed each one quickly then ran my hands down to her heels, hoping for it all to be over.

It only took a minute for Aunt Amel’s breathing to turn into a long, drawn-out snore. That was when Huda and I pulled away and raced to the bathroom as fast as we could. We both squeezed a tonne of soap into our palms and scrubbed our hands ferociously with hot water, not caring if it burned us.

Huda flicked the water from her fingers and sighed. ‘Might as well finish wiping the bathroom down since we’re here,’ she said, pulling the disinfectant spray and cloth from the cupboard below the sink. She sprayed the shower screen and began to wipe it clean. We’d already scrubbed the bathroom this morning, but Aunt Amel always inspected our work, and it was never good enough – no matter what the job.

I can see streak marks on the mirror.

I can still see dust.

You haven’t rolled the socks into a ball properly.

You need to organise all the cups in order of colour and size.

I didn’t get it. Aunt Amel was a grub. Her scarves were always ripped and discoloured. Her clothes had stains on them. She wore odd socks. She always missed when she threw something in the bin, and never bothered to pick it up.

Huda finished wiping over the shower screen while I replaced the empty toilet roll.

‘Right. I’m going to tell him now.’

My sister dropped the spray and hopped onto the lid of the toilet. She yanked open the small bathroom window. Huda’s small, but I wasn’t sure she was that small. I was even less sure whether it was a good idea to go to Mr Kostiki’s house in the middle of the night.

‘He might be asleep,’ I said nervously. ‘Just try tomorrow.’

‘You know she doesn’t let us out of her sight. It’s now or never. Cover for me.’

My sister hoisted herself up to the tiny window and managed to slither through. I heard her fall onto the ground below with an oomph, then scramble across the front yard.

I jumped onto the toilet seat to see whether she’d reached Mr Kostiki’s house just in time to glimpse her shoeless feet dash past his letterbox. A moment later, there was banging on Mr Kostiki’s front door. Nothing. She banged again, then I heard talking: Huda’s high-pitched voice and Mr Kostiki’s accent. I couldn’t make out the words, so I pushed my head up closer to the open window.

‘Birdwatching at night, are we, Akoolie?’ came Aunt Amel’s voice, right in my ear. I almost fell off