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

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      I don’t believe Kevin will keep it a secret and I guess my disbelief shows because Jenny adds, “No, really. You don’t have to worry.”

      We round the corner, and Deanford is in sight. Jenny says, “I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble after Weiss let us go.”

      “No. I was lucky.”

      “How?”

      Her bangs still veil her face. She reminds me of a shaggy sheepdog. How can I not trust her? “Mr. Weiss was going to call my parents but I managed to talk him out of it.”

      “You’re kidding! How?”

      I shrug. “It wasn’t too hard. In fact, he gave me a kind of assignment. I’m in charge of the Mackenzie King play for the drama competition.”

      “You’re kidding! Can I help?”

      Alarm bells ring too late in my mind. What does she mean by help? She can’t act worth beans. “Uh. I don’t know. What did you want to do?”

      She says, “Oh, I don’t want a part in the play. I’d just like to, you know, be your assistant, that kind of thing.”

      “I don’t think so. I’ve decided not to take the job.”

      “Why not? You’d probably be good at it.”

      Layla’s laughing face flashes across my mind’s eye. Before I talked to her, I thought I’d be good at it too.

      Jenny touches my arm. “You should do it. Show them all what you’ve got.”

      I almost smile. Part of me agrees. Then I shake my head. It’s too risky. As we step onto school property, the bell rings and we are ushered inside.

      In the classroom, I go up to Mr. Weiss, tapping him on the elbow.

      He’s chatting with another teacher and gives me a ‘not right now’ look. I go and sit down.

      As soon as he’s finished with the other teacher, I start forward, but Mr. Weiss gestures for us all to quiet down and remain seated.

      He faces us, pulling up his pants and tucking in the tails of his shirt. “I’ve got news. I’ve finally decided who will be in charge of the play this year.”

      I stick up my hand, waving it frantically. Mr. Weiss smiles. “It’s okay Zainab.” He turns back to the class. “As you know, Mackenzie King has never won the house league competitions since the formation of this school twenty-eight years ago.” He chuckles. “Some even say we’re cursed.” He pulls up his pants again and tucks in those wayward shirt tails. “This year it looks as though we have a chance. Especially since I’ve put Zainab here in charge of the play.”

      My classmates groan. They actually groan. As if they’re one human body being told they have four months to live. I want to sink down into my seat, become one with the grain of wood. Mr. Weiss is furious at them.

      “That’s enough! I’ll have no more of that. Zainab is in charge and I expect all of you to give her your full co-operation!”

      Kevin stands up, flashing a look of contempt at me. “Why put her in charge when we finally have a chance? Especially in drama. We’ve got the best actors in the school in our class.”

      He’s referring to himself. He appeared in a few commercials and had a couple of small roles in movies. Once he played a paperboy, telling some detective where the crooks had gone. In the whole movie all he said was, “That way, sir.” And he pointed. The other time he shined shoes and was tossed a quarter by the star. He had to tip his hat, but not say anything. If anyone else had done it, they would have been teased to death, but not Kevin. No one ever makes fun of Kevin. It’s kind of funny though, if you think about it. He’s never had a paper route or shined shoes in his life.

      Everybody is agreeing with Kevin. One of his gang even stands up and says, “Yeah, with Kevin we’re sure to win.”

      Mr. Weiss frowns at him and turns to Kevin. “In that case, Zainab’s job should be easy. Think of it as a challenge to your artistic abilities. You of all people should appreciate that, Kevin. And if you’re serious about acting, then you’ll have to learn to get along with all kinds of directors. What better time to learn than right now?”

      Kevin grumbles but sits down.

      Mr. Weiss gives a satisfied nod. “Well then. Since that’s settled, take out your history books to page fifty-seven and read till the end of the chapter.”

      There are rumblings, like mutiny in the ranks, as everyone shuffles through their textbooks, then a loud slam.

      Mr. Weiss jumps. “Kevin!”

      Kevin is picking his textbook up off the floor.

      “Sorry, sir, my text accidentally fell.”

      It’s clear Mr. Weiss thinks it was no accident. “Don’t let it happen again.”

      Mr. Weiss comes over to my desk. “You wanted to say something, Zainab?”

      “Oh, nothing.” I pick up my text and start reading. During the whole lesson I can hardly concentrate. Finally, the recess bell rings and everyone starts filing out the door. Mr. Weiss calls me to stay behind.

      After the last kid is gone, he says, “What did you want to say to me?” His eyes are a nice soft brown. “Go on, you can say anything.”

      Up close, you can see the puffy bags under his eyes, and the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. He looks tired. As if he has a pile of his own problems. I can’t back out now. I just can’t, not when he has such faith in me.

      “I just don’t know what play we should do.”

      His eyes light up. “Well, you know, I was thinking. This is a wonderful opportunity to expand our horizons. Why don’t you take a story from your culture and make a play from that?”

      “Wouldn’t that just give them more stuff to make fun of me with?”

      “It’s really up to you. You can do a regular story if you wish. It was just a suggestion. Is that any help?”

      It isn’t, but I smile anyway and when he asks if I have any more questions I shake my head. Jenny is waiting outside. “So, are you going to do it? Are you? And can I be your assistant? Please?”

      “Yeah, I guess so.”

      She’s skipping along beside me. I feel like slapping her. She says, “So what play are you going to do?”

      “I don’t know. That’s what I was talking to Weiss about. He thinks I should do something about my culture.”

      Jenny grabs my arm. “That’s a great idea. It would be so fresh and different. You must have tons of stories to tell.”

      Who’d ever want to hear what a Paki has to say, and a girl Paki at that?

      We round the corner of the school, straight into a stiff wind. It СКАЧАТЬ