Dahling If You Luv Me Would You Please Please Smile. Rukhsana Khan

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СКАЧАТЬ Weiss, we caught Zainab stealing Lucky tags.”

      Mr. Weiss is frozen, one hand still resting on the doorknob, his saggy cheeks puff out, his forehead puckers. Through the veil of Jenny’s bangs, her eyes are wide. Her pink lips frame a silent “Oh.”

      Kevin continues, sounding like a used car salesman, “I just came in to get something, and Jenny came with me, then we heard this noise in the closet and there she was.” He grabs my hand, and despite me fighting him, manages to pry my fingers apart and dangle the tag in front of Mr. Weiss’ face. “See? Caught her red-handed.”

      Mr. Weiss looks from the crushed cigarette on the floor to Jenny’s disheveled sweater and then back to Kevin. He takes the tag from Kevin while opening the classroom door. “That’s enough, Kevin. You and Jenny are excused.”

      Kevin smirks at me and heads for the door.

      Mr. Weiss says, “Oh, and Kevin. This little incident doesn’t leave this room. If I hear that anyone else knows, I’ll just have to ask more about why you and Jenny were in here, unsupervised. Understand?”

      Kevin nods. The smirk fades a little but doesn’t disappear entirely.

      Jenny gives me one quick apologetic glance and trails Kevin out the door.

      Mr. Weiss sits down on the edge of a desk. “Unless you can explain to my satisfaction what you were doing in the closet, I’m afraid I’m going to have to contact your parents, Zainab.”

      There’s been a hum in my ears during the whole encounter, a kind of buzz that was numbing. I’m almost sure this is just a bad dream, convinced that nothing could really go this wrong, until he mentions my parents. It’s like a bucket of cold water right to my face. “Oh no, Mr. Weiss. You mustn’t tell them. They will kill me! I will not be here tomorrow because I’ll be dead!”

      “Whatever were you stealing Lucky tags for?”

      My face is so hot. “You wouldn’t understand.”

      “Try me.”

      It’s hard to begin, but once I do the whole story comes pouring out. I wonder, in the back of my mind, whether I should be spilling my guts like this, but I can’t stop even if I tried. I tell him about Kevin’s remark, about Premini getting Lucky’s, and about being the only kid in all grade eight without them.

      He listens with his head bent, one leg swings back and forth and he nods every now and then. When I’m finished, he asks, “But why did you steal the tags?”

      I tell him about the store promotion.

      His face grows still. “But Zainab, don’t you know that promotion is over? It was over a couple of months ago. Twenty-two Lucky tags won’t get you anything.”

      It’s over? My chance is gone? I stole those stupid tags for nothing? The recess bell rings shrill and mocking as I stand there wishing the linoleum would open up and swallow me. I’ve never felt so foolish in all my life, and what makes things worse is that Mr. Weiss knows exactly how stupid I am.

      He doesn’t ask why I didn’t just beg my parents for them. I guess he doesn’t need to. He’s saying something.

      “But why would you want to be like everyone else anyway? You’re fine just the way you are.”

      “Are you kidding? I might as well be a leper, the way everyone avoids me.”

      He laughs. “You’ve been reading too many gothic romances, Zainab.”

      “Lepers aren’t in gothic romances. And I don’t read romances. Well, not only romances.”

      “Of course. Too many historical novels, then. You know what I mean. You’re hardly a leper.”

      Tears well up in my eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like not to have any friends in the whole school.”

      Mr. Weiss looks thoughtful. “What is it you really want, Zainab?”

      Huh? What do I want? Nobody ever asked me that before. It had never mattered. What do I want? I wipe my face. “I want to be treated equally and fairly. I’m just as good as Kevin, or Cheryl or anyone else in this class and I want them to know it.”

      “Isn’t it enough that you know it?”

      “No.”

      Mr. Weiss opens his mouth to say something, looks puzzled, then closes it again. He picks up a pen, turns it over in his hands and then puts it down.

      “Don’t I treat you equally?”

      “It’s not you.”

      “Well, I know you’re just as good as anyone in this class.” He pauses, a twinkle in his eye. “Or just as bad. But it’s another thing proving it to others. You’re better off just ignoring them. You were fine last year.”

      “You sound like my parents. They told me to ignore them too. It doesn’t work.”

      Mr. Weiss looks at the clock. “The other kids will be in soon. I don’t have much time, but I’ve just had a thought. How do you like plays?”

      “Well, I like Shakespeare, even though the language is difficult, and I tried Chekhov, but he’s dull. All the characters ever do is sit around a table talking. My favorite is Tennessee Williams.”

      “Let me rephrase that. How good are you at writing plays?”

      “You mean something like The Glass Menagerie? There’s no way!”

      “Oh, nothing that fancy!” Mr. Weiss claps his hands, lacing his fingers together. “How would you like to be in charge of the Mackenzie King play? It could be any story you want and you could choose whomever you want to play the lead. Though I do think you should stay away from classical literature,” he says with a wry grin.

      Deanford is divided by classes into four house leagues called Mackenzie King, Laurier, Pearson and MacDonald. Our class is in Mackenzie King.

      “I don’t know. Do you think I can do it?”

      He fixes me with a measuring look, then nods. “I wouldn’t be giving you this responsibility if I didn’t. But the main thing is you’d be in charge. The other kids will have to come to you. It’s a chance to make friends and to prove yourself.”

      “Or make a fool of myself.”

      “I’ll be here if you need any help.”

      “But what if we lose? All the kids will blame me.”

      He shrugs. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. It’s either this or ignore them for the rest of the year. This is your last year here anyway, then you’re off to high school. You might not see any of them again. They might go to a different school, but then again they might not. It’s up to you. You can ignore the problem or meet it head on.”

      The classroom door opens and the others come marching in. Mr. Weiss gets up from the desk saying, “Let me know tomorrow.”

      I stop him. I feel like СКАЧАТЬ