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

I figure she’s just had her own situation with the hole in the floor. Martin doesn’t notice. He leads us down another escalator.

Huda pokes me. ‘Did you see the dunnies in there?’ she asks.

‘Yeh, they were weird.’

‘Did you use one?’

‘Nah, didn’t know how to.’

Huda gulps. ‘Me either. But I tried.’

I can tell Huda wants to tell me more, but I don’t ask. I’m glad when we get to an area filled with luggage carousels. Hundreds of people are gathered around waiting for their suitcases.

‘What do your bags look like?’ Martin asks us as he rolls up his sleeves, ready to pull our non-existent bags off the conveyor belt.

‘We only came with our schoolbags,’ Huda says.

Martin’s brow creases, but before he has a chance to say anything, my sister shrieks. Miss Rosetta and her security guard have caught up to us. She’s seized Huda by the shoulder, but my sister wriggles free and lunges onto the conveyor belt of the nearest carousel. I can’t believe my eyes.

Huda scrambles across suitcases and luggage, knocking things over left, right and centre. Passengers gasp loudly, and one woman even screams. The security guard and Miss Rosetta dart after my sister, trying to grab her from the ground, but she’s too quick. She knocks a couple of suitcases clean off the conveyor belt as she clambers onto the unmoving metal centre of the carousel and stands there crouched, arms out, looking like a ninja.

‘Rosetta, what’s going on here?’ Martin demands loudly.

‘Leave my sister alone! Don’t hurt her!’ I cry.

Huda’s back on the conveyor belt, dodging suitcases, Miss Rosetta and the security guard still hot on her tail. The security guard tries to climb onto the carousel, but he fumbles and the top half of his body collapses onto it. His legs drag across the tiled floor as he struggles to find his grip, then eventually he slips off and flops onto the ground. Miss Rosetta glares down at him as he picks himself back up.

‘Hooda! Come on, hop down!’ Martin calls over all the gasps. He holds up his palm to stop Miss Rosetta and the security guard as they run past him. I’ve got this, he mouths to them.

He turns back to my sister. ‘Okay, Hooda, come down so we can sort this out now.’

Huda listens. But instead of just letting the conveyor belt bring her back around to Martin, she turns and starts struggling against it. I shake my head. It would be like trying to run backwards up a downwards-travelling escalator. An escalator covered in luggage. While hundreds of people watched. Huda almost loses her balance, but not quite.

‘My job is to make sure you and your brother are safe,’ Martin says reassuringly. ‘Now please carefully climb off so we can make sure you meet your parents safely.’

Huda hurdles another suitcase and points at Miss Rosetta. ‘You won’t make me go with that mean one?’

Miss Rosetta’s eyes look like they’re about to zap lightning bolts at my sister. ‘You will be coming straight with me, little girl, and I will be reporting you to the airline for being in breach of—’

‘In breach of what? No one’s broken any airline rules,’ Martin cut in.

‘Those children breached security by running through passport control!’ She jabs her pointy finger at each of us.

‘Actually, I escorted them through.’

Miss Rosetta’s face goes the colour of her lipstick. Before she can say anything else, Martin speaks again.

‘That’s okay, Rosetta. I’ll take them straight to processing and stay with them until we’re able to contact their parents.’

‘Will you send us to kids’ jail?’ my sister calls out.

Martin shakes his head. ‘I promise you I won’t.’

Huda looks at me, and I nod. She breathes in and then slowly breathes out. And then she climbs down.

The security guard considers this case closed and wanders away, but Miss Rosetta turns to Martin. ‘You had to be the nice one, didn’t you, Martin?’

This is the first time I’ve seen him get upset. I can tell by the way his breathing changes, and how he holds his fingers up to his temples. ‘It doesn’t hurt to be nice, Rosetta.’

Miss Rosetta steps closer to him, until she’s right up in his face. ‘Well, I can tell you now that I won’t be taking this disrespect lying down …’

Huda nudges me and tilts her head towards the customs exits and, beyond those, the sliding glass doors leading outside.

‘We’ve gotta get out of here.’

I know she’s right. There’s no way we’ll be able to leave the airport when they realise Mum and Dad aren’t here to pick us up.

I only wish we could say goodbye to our friend. Me and Huda race away from the baggage area. We pick the Nothing to Declare exit, and just as we scurry through the glass doors beyond that, I peek back at Martin one last time. Miss Rosetta is shouting and jabbing her finger at him, but he glances over at us and smiles. I’ve still got his hanky in my pocket.

On Our Way

We stand on the kerb outside, watching the cars zoom by. Exhaust fumes fill the air, and people pack into minivans like sardines. Heads stick out of windows, suitcases stack onto the roofs of buses or anywhere they can fit, Lebanese music blasts from drivers’ radios. Everything moves so quickly. Men shout in Arabic, taxi drivers haggle for prices. Women everywhere wear colourful hijabs. I haven’t seen anything like this before, not even at the mosque on Eid.

My heart races. This is it.

The sun blares down and my eyes sting from how bright it is. My skin tingles and itches. It’s winter in Melbourne but the middle of summer here in Lebanon. I glance down at Huda. Her eyes are wide, soaking in all the sights and sounds in front of us. Her face is red and her skin looks wet and sticky.

Huda rips off her dirty jumper. It’s has tears, snot and God knows what else on it.

‘These things are so