rotate as I breathe.
I learn the perfect flip turn
to streamline off the wall.
I learn to reach forward
into the blue.
Afternoons
On a day
when the sun peeks out,
after Stahr and I swim,
we head to Baskin-Robbins
for scoops
of ice cream.
Stahr gets pistachio
one day,
strawberry
another day,
chocolate
another day,
and I get cookies and cream
all the days.
At Baskin-Robbins
Aidan works
behind the counter
sometimes.
Hi, Nurah!
he says with a crooked smile.
Who is that?
Stahr asks.
I whisper to Stahr about how
Aidan chooses me
in science class.
Stahr tries
to whisper
how she chooses
Mason in math class.
Even though I have never
heard his name
I know he must be important
because Stahr actually whispers
when she says his name.
When I am with Stahr,
secrets spill out
in seconds,
secrets I didn’t even know
that I had.
By the time I have
talked
talked
talked
to Stahr,
My cookies are all melty.
No longer hard
mixed with soft.
Maybe that’s what moving is like:
all the hard bits
eventually go away.
Help
Ammi’s eyes are no longer foggy
but clear and focused.
So when Penelope comes over for tea
freshly bruised and watery-eyed,
Ammi serves steaming chai and questions.
What are you going to do?
Too long a silence.
A heaving sob.
I’ve been saving for a place.
Ammi puts two hands around Penelope’s hands,
whispers
I’m going to help.
Delayed Teatime
While Stahr’s dad works,
Ammi helps Penelope.
I help Stahr
fold and pack their clothes
and dreams away . . .
for later.
Getting Better
Sometimes my dives
are crooked.
I close my eyes
wince
before diving in.
A broken dive.
When I race,
sometimes the water
is not my friend,
even though I try so hard.
You’re bringing your arms
out of the water
too soon.
Follow through with your strokes.
Trust the water,
says Owais.
So I do.
Slowly,
slowly,
I am getting better.
I know this because
Owais high-fives me
Stahr hugs me
and Coach Kelly
smiles wider when I finish
my laps quicker
beating the clock
second by second.
Coach Kelly tells me
if I keep it up,
I will start winning soon.
I am the water,
buoyant with hope.
Part Six
Bullied
Now that Ammi
is herself again,
she is back to what she does best:
worrying.
Ammi worries about us,
too much.
She buys us brand-new swimsuits
that smell like Walmart.
She packs us school lunches,
rolled-up parathas,
fried aloo kababs,
thermoses of rice
that tease us of home.
Are you being bullied?
No, we say,
because we aren’t.
We smile big,
too-big American smiles,
to reassure her.
But
if she were to ask me
about the man
the man on the bus,
I would have to
say Yes.
The Bus
The bus is a friendly yellow.
On the bus is a man.
The man on the bus is a monitor.
He is almost whole.
He has 2 legs.
2 eyes.
2 feet.
2 ears.
2 nostrils.
1 arm.
1 hand.
Jay
On the bus is Jay.
Jay like the alphabet,
Sandwiched between I and K.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K . . .
Jay has eyes the color
of a swimming pool.
A dangerous one
I wouldn’t want to jump into.
Jay and Cal are a team.
They whisper
to the man on the bus.
Did You Know?
A wedding ring
is worn
on the left hand?
The Incident
Jay and Cal do not whisper
anymore.
Their voices are loud.
Do you wear a wedding ring?
Can you shake hands with your left hand?
Their faces
change.
Their lips
smirk.
Their voices
laugh.
They laugh
All
The
Way
Home.
Mr. Tim,
the bus monitor,
stutters,
face turning red,
and looks out the window.
All
The
Way
Home.
I Wish
My skin stings
hot with anger,
but is too brown
to turn red.
I wish I could say something,
do something,
stop them,
but how?
I just look outside
at the trees.
Silent witnesses.
Just
Like
Me.
Sunday School
Whoever sees evil,
change it with his hand,
and if he is not able to do so,
then change it with his tongue,
and if he is not able to do so,
then with his heart—
and that’s the weakest of faith.
I am the weakest.
Pep Talk
Coffee break! yells
Coach Kelly,
her arms
waving us over
even though
there is no coffee
just puddles
of chlorine water.
By the pool
we huddle
shivery and warm,
warm and shivery.
Don’t forget
be like an octopus!
An octopus is not only quick
in the water.
An octopus is highly
intelligent.
An octopus knows
how to free itself
from difficult situations.
An octopus knows
how to soar
through the water.
I want to be
like an octopus.
Courage
Ms. White
arranges dying flowers in vases
walks around the room
in shoes that make no noise.
Ms. White gives advice as she peeks:
Soften your edges . . .
Notice the angles . . .
You could add more here . . .
Behind me she stops
quiet
pushes her glasses up.
Her mouth lies down in thought.
I think she is surprised by
how I hold my charcoal
easily
how I press down
dark
how shapes and shadows appear
clear
It takes courage to be so
bold.
Nice work.
Time
I hate riding
bus 11-269.
I hate stopping by
Blueberry Hill.
The stop adds 10 minutes
to our ride home.
10 minutes.
600 seconds.
Enough time
for anything
to happen.
Temper
In first grade,
Ms. Chowdhury made me sit next to
Ahmed Anwar.
A good girl
next to a bad boy.
Why don’t teachers
change their tactics?
He threw my favorite
Little Mermaid
pencil case
down to the ground.
I gave him a look.
The second time
I told him to stop.
The third time,
I pounded
the back of his head,
right next to
the gentle circle
of his cowlick,
Pound, pound, pound,
down to the ground,
until I got dragged out
to the hallway
by Ms. Chowdhury.
Good Girl no more.
Inside
When I get mad,
I am not like
the water in a rice pot
simmering slow.
I am calm
calm
calm
and then I explode.
I am a teakettle
waiting to scream.
The Incident
Tension takes bites
out of my stomach.
At first nibbles,
but then bites.
Jay and Cal
are bending their arms
into stumps
waggling them
back and forth
laughing quiet and loud
all at once.
Even though my face is calm
like a lake,
with no ripples at all,
my face becomes a wave.
Tidal.
Wild and furious
all at once.
SHUT UP!
SHUT UP!
ACT YOUR AGE.
My voice is so loud,
such a surprise—
it
shuts
them
up.
Tomorrow
I fidget at the bus stop.
I am so scared
of what they will do today,
of what they will say today.
Owais is so lucky he is 15,
and that his friend Michael Lee is 16
and drives him to high school.
I feel so alone.
But before leaving, Owais
nods at me.
Is he trying to say
Everything will be okay?
Aftermath
Today
Cal and Jay
don’t even look at me.
Not a peek.
They don’t look at
Mr. Tim either.
The edges,
corners,
of my heart
feel lighter.
Terrorist Attack
We can’t focus
on our homework
because the words
stare angrily
in WHITE CAPITAL LETTERS
from the bottom
of the TV screen.
I don’t like
the way
they are saying
Muslim
on TV.
Owais throws down
his pencil.
It’s ironic, isn’t it?
Islam means peace.
I guess the shooter
didn’t really click
with that part.
The faces of my parents
look old and tired
and their sighs are
those of old people.
My father’s face is still a frown
and his eyebrows
inverted Vs no more.
Please pray for the victims.
Be careful when you are
out and about.
You never know
when someone will look at you
and because they may think
you believe
what that idiot does,
they may
snap.
Knock on the Door
The next day,
when we are in school
and my
