I nodded.
“And?”
I shook my head.
Everyone groaned.
“This is completely ridiculous,” Alan said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. “We should put a petition together. Tippett can’t demean Renaissance Man by picking someone like Jilani.”
“Look, guys, I’m sorry, okay? I asked him to go with the top student in this class—”
“Will you sign the petition?”
I didn’t see who asked, but some curious whispering followed. I was about to tell them I would when Kaval said, “No. Why should he? This is bullshit. It isn’t like only the
top scorers in every subject get entered—”
“That’s how it should be,” Alan muttered.
“It isn’t, though. And no one, ever, gets asked to drop out.”
“Except Jilani will probably be a dropout entirely soon enough.”
“Dick,” Kaval snapped.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Then stop being a dick.” A couple of people laughed. When the bell for the next period rang, they began moving away. Alan left too, walking backward all the way down the hall so he could glare at me the entire time.
Kaval turned to me. “Look, Danyal, we all know that Tippett was being a jerk when he went with you. But this is a huge opportunity. You could show everyone what you’re really made of. This could be your version of Tom Brady being picked in the sixth round of the draft.”
Intezar stared at her. “You follow football?”
“I follow Gisele,” Kaval said. “Anyway, I’m just saying, you know, this could be a turning point for you. Don’t give it up.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “Really. Except for one problem.”
“What?”
“Tom Brady can actually play a little football,” Intezar told her.
“Whatever. Look, I promise to help you. You can come over to my place. We’ll work on it together.”
How could I say no to that?
“Renaissance Man,” Sohrab called out when he saw me. It was, I could tell, meant to be an exclamation, like someone shouting Dude! or That’s awesome! Since it was Sohrab Sabsvari who said it, it came out calm and sober. He was incapable of getting fired up.
I made a face, like he’d said something gross. A couple of kids standing nearby rolled their eyes. I glared at them with all the venom I could manage, which wasn’t much, but it had been, like, two hours, and I was already growing tired of all the whispers and snide comments I’d been getting since Tippett announced I was his pick.
“You don’t seem very enthusiastic. How can you not think this is good?”
“It’s not my thing. You know I’m not applying to college. I don’t need the boost.”
“But five thousand dollars would be nice.”
I chuckled at the understatement. “Yeah. That would be huge. But I’d have to win to get it, and we both know that’s not going to happen. Losing spectacularly, though, is very much in the cards.”
“It’s still an accomplishment,” Sohrab insisted. “We should do something to celebrate.”
“Like what?”
“Well...there’s a fascinating scholar coming to the mosque next month after Maghrib to give a talk. We could go to that.”
“How is that a celebration?”
Sohrab narrowed his eyes at me. “God is fun,” he said, in a tone that suggested it’d be total blasphemy to disagree.
“Maybe. The people who like to get together and talk about Him, though...”
“I did tell you,” he said, “that you’re not as funny as you think, didn’t I?”
“Don’t start. Anyway, I just meant that a month seems a long time to wait before ‘celebrating.’ You’re just trying to get me to come to mosque with you, aren’t you?”
Sohrab rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe. But only because I always end up going to these things alone. I miss hanging with you guys.”
Emotional blackmail. A total uncle move.
I had to admit it was effective, though. What was I supposed to say to that?
“Come on. Please? It’ll be great. I’ll text you the details. I should also invite Intezar.”
“Um...no, you shouldn’t.”
“Fine. You know him better than I do.”
I grimaced. The way he’d said that had been so... well, sad, I guess, but also lonely. To make him feel better about his fraying relationship with Zar, and because I really hadn’t been spending a lot of time with him, I said, “Fine. I’m in.”
“Fantastic,” Sohrab said. I could tell he was excited because I knew him, but really there was no way to tell from his tone or his face. “You won’t regret it. You talk so much about being handsome that you don’t spend any time becoming handsome. I mean, of course, that you have to work on beautifying your soul—”
“Hey,” I cut in. “Remember that time you said I wouldn’t regret agreeing to go to the mosque with you?” Sohrab frowned. “You mean a few seconds ago?” “Yeah. Just so you know, I regret it already.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“My God! How did you not immediately call me? This is so exciting, Danyal. We are so happy for you. All the aunties are talking about you and Renaissance Man. All of them are surprised. We aren’t surprised, though, are we, Ahmed?”
My father, who was reading a newspaper—an actual printed newspaper because he thinks tablets change the way news feels, whatever that means—looked up from across the living room. He gave a short, sharp grunt. That was the “I completely disagree with what you just said but I’m going to be nice and ignore you now” grunt.
“Aren’t you proud of our son? Don’t you want to tell him that?”
My father gave a long, drawn-out sigh, folded his newspaper, and set it aside. “So, this is an academic contest?”
I nodded.
“And you were selected to enter, haan?”
I nodded again.
“Strange. What happens next?”
My mother let out an exasperated breath. “All the kids who get picked write an essay over the rest of the year. Like a proper thesis. Then there is a big event and they get up onstage and present their papers. One senior student for each subject.”
“And what subject did you get?” Dad asked.
“History.”
“Aren’t you failing history?”
“I prefer to think that history is failing me.”
My father frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I...don’t know. It just sounded clever.”
He shook his head. “So, you got in—”
“Picked by a teacher,” Mom said.
“Yes, yes. Fine. Tell me, Danyal, are you going to win?”
I shook my head.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, reaching for his newspaper again. “I’ll say this about your son, Aisha. He’s never surprising.”
Mom’s hands were on her hips and her nostrils flared. “Danyal. Go to your room.”
Great. I was going to be the cause of another shouting match. I could feel it in the air, like I was standing next to a burning oven. Not for the first time, I wondered whether my parents would’ve been happier together if I’d never been born.