the house becomes a
home
full of laughter
and loud voices.
But when we say bye,
our house becomes
too quiet
too far
a house that is
7,995 miles away
to be exact.
Walking to the Rec Center
On the walking path
golf carts speed by,
dogs pull people,
and bikers whiz by.
We hear
Hey y’all
How are you?
Hi
Owais and I
give each other a look
Who are these people?
Why are they saying hello?
People here must be really friendly
we think,
but then
Why don’t I have
a friend at school?
Rec Center
The water is bright.
The water is blue.
It says
I am here for you.
Oh Water,
do you know
that you are my only friend?
The water scoops me into a hug,
laughter bubbles at me,
and floats me gently up high.
In the water, I’m the meaning
of my name—
Light.
Cold
Even though it’s hot outside,
I hate
feeling the horrid cold
snaking into a ball
in the pit of my stomach
at school, especially at lunchtime.
But when the weather changes
one ordinary night,
I wake up
cold inside
and freezing outside,
and it’s brutal.
I wear sweater upon sweater
5 total
just to feel warm
when I wait for the
bus.
Let’s go buy you a proper winter jacket,
Baba says,
but still
it is not strong enough
to keep out the cold.
Karachi
Back home
the weather is
hot hot hot.
But in the evenings
when the sun gets sleepy
it gets cooler
balmy
and
breezy.
A tropical hug
before bed.
American Winter
Winter:
snips
cuts
the tips
of my fingers.
I am not made
for this weather.
I am not made
for this country.
Baba’s Patience
We have a fireplace
that we are still learning—
a button to press
a switch to pull
to make a fire.
By the hungry orange licks,
Baba mends kites
and waits for
an invitation from the sky.
Birds
In Pakistan:
the birds are loud
morning
noon
night.
Here:
the birds are loud
only in the morning
only at sunset.
Here I am loud:
only in the morning
before school
only in the afternoon
after school.
After School
At the dining table
I find my voice.
With a few pencil strokes
I doodle America
away
by drawing the Karachi beach.
Angry wave
upon
angry wave.
We talk about
Nana and Nana Abu and Dadi and Asna
back home
and the world feels
smaller.
Happier.
I push away the
school day
flip my apple
upside down,
biting into
the red underbelly
creating a flower-shaped pattern.
Then pray namaz,
then homework,
then finally,
it’s time to swim.
In the pool
we dive
low.
We float high.
On the surface,
eyes closed,
I float my worries away.
Bright-Yellow Flyer
I see it
at the Rec Center
underneath the sunny window
winking at me.
I grab one
fold it into
one rectangle
two rectangles
three rectangles
four.
I place it at the top
of my swimming bag
with a smile.
Teatime
Why don’t we both
try out for
the Center swim team?
Owais’s face
is happy.
Owais is the
athlete,
the one
with the medals and trophies.
I am okay,
but not good enough
to win a medal
or a trophy
or anything really—
at least not yet.
But when I see
Owais’s dark eyebrows
unstitched
I know I can win.
Maybe even a medal,
so that is why I ask.
That is why I say,
Let’s do it!
Maybe you can make
some friends,
adds Baba.
Definitely!
Enthusiasm
is
contagious.
Skin
At swim team tryouts
there is skin
skin
skin.
Arms and underarms
legs and thighs.
I am wearing leggings,
a swim shirt with sleeves.
And even though I am covered
covered
covered
I am scrutinized.
The odd one out,
again.
Dollop of Hope
The next day
at tryouts
one girl is there
wearing tights
and long sleeves
too!
She stands by me.
Does she know
I need a friend?
Before we dive
leaving a trail of bubbles
like hope behind us . . .
I’m Stahr!
I’m Nurah!
Pep Talk
Coach Kelly’s
hair is
curly,
bouncy,
like the tentacles
of an octopus.
But her voice is
low
and
rough.
If you make the team,
I expect
Winners
I expect
Medals
I expect
A strong team
I expect
You to do your best
I expect
Teamwork.
Any questions?
Stahr
Whose name has an extra h
but is pronounced like Star
finds me at school
before I go to
my safe triangle
underneath the stairwell.
Do you want to eat lunch with me?
8 words that change my life.
Stahr has freckles.
Not like me.
Stahr’s teeth are covered in metal.
Not like me.
Her eyes are pale green and gray.
Not like me.
She wears long sleeves
at school
all the time.
Just like me.
But one day at lunch,
she pulls up her sleeves,
and shows me the yellow,
the purple,
and the blue.
My dad hits us with his belt,
and cusses at us.
Don’t tell anyone, okay?
I am a good friend.
So I don’t.
Camouflage
I always wished I
had freckles,
but seeing Stahr’s,
I don’t think I would want
that many.
If Stahr wears green,
her eyes are green.
If Stahr wears gray,
her eyes are gray.
It doesn’t matter
what color I wear—
my eyes stay
dark dark brown.
Imagine
Underneath a sky
the color of promises
Stahr and I sit
at lunchtime
on a bench
in bright sunlight.
Imagine.
Difference
The difference between
having a friend
and not having a friend
can be told
from my face.
Before having a
friend
I would wear a mask
of silence.
I would not look here,
there,
everywhere,
but rather,
at the hallway floor.
Tile
after
tile.
With a friend,
I look here,
there,
everywhere.
With a friend,
my feet feel light,
like my name.
With a friend,
I don’t have to stitch
my mouth tightly
together.
With a friend,
I let the corners
of my mouth
curl into a smile.
Swim Tryouts
Stahr swims like me
and
I swim like Stahr.
We share the same pace
arms slapping the water
feet kicking.
We talk about
how we want to make the team
how we want to win medals
and Stahr wants to know
How did Owais get so good?
We float lazily
and giggle giddily
until Coach Kelly claps
her hands
and barks
Okay, ladies,
less talking,
more swimming!
But this only makes us
laugh louder,
and Coach Kelly
offers us a little smile.
Strokes
It’s all about the strokes,
says Coach Kelly.
You want your arms to
slice
the water
not slap.
This I can understand.
For art
with my pencil
I can press hard
to get darker colors
light strokes
for light colors.
For swimming:
quick strokes,
precise strokes,
to win.
Alyson
In geometry class,
Mr. Ferguson sings the
quadratic formula.
Negative b
Negative b
Plus or minus square root
Plus or minus square root
b squared minus 4ac
b squared minus 4ac
all over 2a
all over 2a.
While he sings
and I doodle,
the sunlight
is making friends with my hair.
My arms are so long they can easily reach
the tops of the cabinets to get a glass,
to drink wader not water,
but my legs are not so long,
I am the shortest,
always the shortest in the class.
And Alyson who looks like the person
on the cover of the magazine,
and whose arms and legs
and everything in between
are exactly the size they should be,
puts down her pencil and says,
Omigosh Nurah, your hair is so pretty.
Surprised, I put my pencil down,
and let my lips whisper, Thank you.
Owais
I have better hair,
but his face is better looking than mine.
If you take a loaf of oatmeal bread,
I am the brown heel of the bread.
He is the white inside.
His lashes are longer than mine
even though he is a boy.
His lips fuller
even though he is a boy.
When I was little,
I thought Owais and I looked alike.
But now when I hear the aunties talk about us,
my ears pay attention
and I realize
we
