Zahirah

I was shaking as I shut the door. I was shaken for more than one reason, but I focused on the easier one. I caught Arif and Aliya trying to sneak off to their rooms.

"Stay right where you are! We need to talk. Living room, now," I ordered.

Their shoulders sagged, and they hung their heads in defeat, but they marched into the living room and sat on the couch. They stared down at their hands in their laps. I hated to see them this way, but they knew better. I took a seat in the chair across from them. I waited for them to get tired of avoiding my gaze and glance up at me. When they did, which took a couple of minutes, I arched a brow at them. They knew what it meant. I'd been perfecting it for years with them.

"We're sorry, Ima , aunt. We didn't want to worry you about those boys," Aliya said.

"Don't tell me you're sorry, and it was because you didn't want me to worry. You know the rules. If anyone says things to you or tries to harm you in any way, you're supposed to tell me immediately. How else can I keep you safe if you don't?"

"You have enough to do without doing that too. We're not babies anymore. We can take care of ourselves," Arif objected.

"Really? So why don't you pull up your shirt and let me see how well you were able to take care of yourself? I see how you're moving. They hurt you. Show me," I demanded. My hands shook. If those boys hurt them seriously, I'd hunt their little asses down and show them who should be afraid.

Reluctantly, he inched up his shirt. I moaned at the sight of the bruises forming on his ribs and stomach. I dropped off the chair onto my knees and reached out to press my fingers gently to them. He flinched.

"Arif, Allah , God, why didn't you say something as soon as you came home? Or better yet, why didn't you tell me you were being targeted? Does this hurt worse?" I pressed harder on his ribs. He shook his head no.

"No, they're fine. And I told you why."

"Well, that's not a good enough reason. In this family, we don't keep secrets or lie. How long has this been going on? Don't lie."

They exchanged glances, and then his sister answered, "They've been doing it for a couple of months. At first, they were just yelling stuff at us when they saw us. Last week, they cornered us on the way home after I picked up Arif at his school. They were trying to get a reaction out of us."

"Who are these boys? Do you know them?"

She nodded. "Yes, I know who they are. They go to my high school. They're seniors who think that because they play football and are popular, they rule the school."

"I want to know their names, but first, I want you to tell me why it got physical today."

She didn't answer me. I was about to ask her again when Arif did. He jumped to his feet. He had his fists clenched at his sides.

"They were saying disgusting stuff to her, and I told them to stop! When they didn't, and I told them again to stop, one of them grabbed her, and the other two ganged up on me. I was trying to fight them, and she was fighting to get away from the other one when that scary biker came riding up on his motorcycle."

"That biker has a name. It's Twisted. Tell me what they were saying to your akhat , sister."

His cheeks were red as he answered me. "They were calling her an ahra , whore, and talking about how they wanted to have her do things to them and let them do things to her. It was disgusting. They said they knew she was a dirty wakha, slut, and how they would get what they wanted one way or another."

Fury erupted inside of me at hearing what those boys had said to her. Aliya was nothing close to a whore or slut. Disgust combined with my rage. It was people like them who made it so hard for us to live in this country. If they weren't calling us whores, then they accused us of being terrorists just because of where we came from. Others called us savages when it was they who were savages and ignorant to boot. Being Middle Eastern didn't make you a terrorist, nor did it mean we were all Muslims. Even if we were Muslim, it didn't equate to us hating others who weren't. Tears ran down her cheeks. I shifted over to take her in my arms.

As she cried, I whispered in her ear so her brother wouldn't hear me. "Did the boy who had a hold of you touch you inappropriately ?"

She nodded and whispered back brokenly, "He grabbed my breasts and between my legs."

Tears filled my eyes. It was my responsibility to protect them, and I'd failed. I needed to do better. I'd been trying so hard not to make them afraid, and in doing so, I hadn't taught them the skills they needed to defend themselves. My family would be so ashamed and disappointed in me. My ach, brother, Zafir and his wife, Nova, would be so upset with me if they were still with us.

None of us expected them to die young, but I always knew I would be the one to raise the kids if anything happened to them. When I lost them six years ago, I was twenty-four and left with a grieving eight-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy. Zafir was only thirty-two, and his wife was thirty. No one expected the small commuter plane they were in to go down. I was lucky the kids had stayed behind with me while their parents went back to Qatar. If they hadn't, I'd be alone.

I rocked her and murmured comforting words to her until she stopped crying. Once she did, I took Arif's hand and hers. "I know it's hard to always know what to do, but in this case and any time someone does stuff like this, no matter if they're an adult or not, you must always tell me of any issues you have. No matter how insignificant you may think they are. I've been lax in teaching you our traditions in some areas. I won't do it any longer. However, first, I need to know the names of those boys. Do you have any idea where I might find their parents?"

It took a tiny bit of coaxing to get Aliya to tell me their names. They both swore they didn't know where they lived so I could speak to their parents. I knew this meant a trip to the school was in order. I prayed someone there would give me the information I needed. It might do no good to speak to their families, but I had to try. As for Twisted, well, I'd have to wait until I was alone later to think about him and how he was the second reason I had become shaken.

Chapter 3

Lying in bed last night, I cringed every time I thought of how I'd opened the door to Twisted and tore into him like a harridan. I'd been so sure he was there to be ugly to me and the kids. I based it on their panicked expressions when they got done peeking out the window at the roar of what I thought was a motorcycle. No one on our street rode one, but I hadn't paid any attention to it until I saw their faces, and they furiously began to whisper. I was about to ask them what was up when I heard Arif say, "God, he came after us."

My mama bear, or lioness's protective instincts, or whatever one chose to call them, went into overdrive, and I ripped the door open and went on the attack. It wasn't until my two wayward children began to explain he hadn't harmed them that I was able to allow other thoughts to enter my brain. They were ones I fought not to have and to forget as I worked to stay on track with what the formidable man at the door was saying.

He was, without a doubt, an intimidating man. Everything about him screamed that we should run and hide, but I refused to do it. As he explained why he was at our door and kept giving them understanding looks while asking to speak to me and my husband, I wanted to hide. For one thing, I felt stupid for attacking him without knowing why he was there. Secondly, he made me uncomfortable as a woman. Not because I was afraid of him hurting me, but due to his strong physical pull on me. I reacted to him as I calmed down and it was the last thing I expected or wanted.

One reason was that nothing could come from it. I wasn't the kind of woman a man like him would give the time of day. I wasn't sexy or edgy or as free as he undoubtedly liked his women. I was a boring mom aunt with two kids, who worked a nine-to-five job—not exactly the free and easy woman he'd want. Plus, I didn't see him looking for a steady girlfriend.

Another reason was one which had reared its ugly head numerous times in my life. I was a foreigner, someone others thought was here to harm them and their country. They saw my skin and nothing else. Men like him, white men, may sneak around with someone like me, but they wouldn't get serious. If I was risking my heart, it had to be for more than casual sex and being hidden as if I was a dirty secret.

Finally, it was him overall. He lived a biker's life, and no matter how sexy and good-looking I found him, I had Aliya and Arif to keep safe. But God, if I didn't, I'd be so tempted to see if he might be different even if my head told me not to be stupid.

Taking a moment to remember him, I closed my eyes behind the wheel of my car as I sat in the driveway. He was a tall man, a few inches over six feet. He had an unusual haircut that typically wouldn't attract me, but on him, it worked. The sides were shaved almost to the scalp, and on top, it was a short strip of longer hair in a faux mohawk style that ended at his nape. It was a medium brown color, matching his closely trimmed beard and mustache. How well-groomed his beard was surprised me. For some reason, I thought he'd have a wild one.

He was built. The man had muscles and even with a jacket on, I was able to see them by the way his clothes hugged his upper body. Add to it the way his jeans were snug against his very muscular thighs showed he was as well. His very masculine and attractive face had the most unusual olive-green eyes. His skin tone was lighter than mine of course, but he still had a slight tan. If I had to guess his age, I'd put him a handful of years older than my thirty years. Twisted certainly was able to fill most women's dreams with heated moments.

Sighing, I let all thoughts of him float away. I had no time for daydreaming. I had important business to take care of. Starting my car, I put it in gear and backed out of the driveway. Today, I would be picking up the kids from school, but before I did, I had to talk to the high school principal. The drive to the high school wasn't a long one. Relatively speaking, nothing in and around Cherokee was far. It was both positive and negative for us. The good thing was there weren't hours sitting in traffic to get everywhere. The bad was it was harder to be just another anonymous person who others easily ignored.

When I arrived at the high school, I had to take a deep breath before getting out and going inside. I knew my way around here. It wasn't my first time in this building for a variety of reasons. I wish it would be my last, but figure the odds. A school resource officer was sitting near the front door. He barely glanced up from his phone at me. He didn't instill a lot of faith in the safety of the students. I resisted the urge to kick him as I passed.

I went straight to the main office. As I entered, I saw the look the secretary and another woman gave each other when they saw me. Their upper lips curled, and you could feel the disdain coming off them. I hadn't even opened my mouth. I plastered on my best smile and went to the counter.

"Good afternoon. My name is Zahirah Hussain. I'm here to see Principal Pecardi. He's expecting me. I have a one-o'clock appointment." I called first thing this morning to get it. Her name tag identified the secretary as Dianne .

She harrumphed before she said anything. "Have a seat. I'll let Principal Pecardi know you're here. It may be a while. He's a very busy man."

"That's why I made an appointment, which is set for five minutes from now. I'm a very busy woman," I said to her with a smile and a hike of my brow. I wasn't in the mood for anyone's bullshit today. I turned without waiting to see if she would say anything else and took a seat directly in front of the counter. I crossed my legs and gently kicked my foot. I was dressed for this. It was all about perceptions. Most parents and visitors I knew came here dressed casually, but I didn't have such luxury. I had to go with my armor in place, and it needed to be impenetrable.

My hair was up in a twist. I wore subtle and tasteful makeup. My jewelry was small and classy. I had on a white long- sleeved blouse tucked into pinstriped black slacks. I was wearing a long black overcoat to keep me warm. On my feet, I wore a pair of dress boots with a two-inch heel. I projected the air of a businesswoman.

I'd learned to always do this when meeting with someone likely to dismiss me or try to make me feel small. After meeting the principal at the open house night when Aliya started her freshman year, I knew exactly what type of man he was. Every interaction since, I'd made sure to come as I was today.

Dianne was busy whispering on the desk phone. I assumed it was to Pecardi. When she hung up, she began whispering to the other woman. I didn't see a nametag on her. They kept glaring at me. I fought not to give them the finger and tell them to go fuck themselves. I knew I was probably wasting my time here, but I had to try.

They made me wait until a quarter after one before Dianne called my name. When I breezed up to the desk, I passed her without a word and barely a glance. I went down the hall. I knew where his office was. Pausing barely long enough to knock on his open door, I walked in. I noted the displeasure on his face as I did. I ignored it.

"Principal Pecardi, it seems we're all extremely busy people today," I remarked as I took in his empty desk. When I entered, he'd been tapping away on his phone—probably playing a game like a kid. He hastily laid his phone down. He didn't bother to get to his feet. He waved his hand toward a chair.

"Ms. Hussain, have a seat. Yes, it's been a very busy day. I just finished an important call. I hope this meeting can be wrapped up quickly. When you called, you insisted there was an urgent need to see me. Do you mind telling me what was so important I had to rearrange my day?"

Rearrange his day, my ass. He probably had to stop admiring himself in the mirror for a few minutes less. He was a very vain man. He thought all women should fall at his feet and beg for his attention. I'd go as far as to admit he wasn't ugly, but his attitude and everything else made him totally undesirable in my books. Probably one reason he disliked me. Every time we met, he flipped back and forth between treating me like I was stupid and flirting with me.

"I think the harassment and assault of one of your students and a middle schooler by three of your other students constitutes urgent, wouldn't you say?" I came out swinging. I didn't have the time or the patience to play games with him.

Alarm filled his face. He sat forward in his chair. "Those are strong words. I'd be careful using them. Who exactly are you accusing of harassing and assaulting others? And who did they allegedly do these things to?"

"The three culprits are seniors in this school. Their names are Billy Waters, Matthew Pacer, and Rusty Turner." I paused after saying their names. I noted his immediate response to hearing who. He became uneasy.

He didn't respond immediately. It was several seconds before he was able to get anything out. "And who are the students they supposedly attacked?" As if he didn't know, al-hammar , jackass.

"My niece Aliya and her brother Arif. It's been happening for the past few months after school. They've been harassing them, and yesterday, it became physical."

"Ms. Hussain, kids will be kids. I highly doubt they did more than tease each other. Boys are like that. I know these three boys, and they're good kids from upstanding families. They're harmless. I think your niece and nephew are exaggerating." He flashed one of his condescending smiles.

"Exaggerating? Do you call this teasing only?" I snapped before bounding to my feet and slapping my phone down on his desk. I swiped my finger over the screen several times, flipping through the pictures I'd taken of Arif's bruises last night. Seeing them made my rage bubble up again. He'd been sore and in pain. I had him soak in a tub with salt in it to ease his discomfort, then rubbed arnica into them so he was able to sleep. This morning he'd been moving stiffly when he got up for school. I offered to let him stay home, but he refused.

Pecardi leaned back in his chair and gave me a bored look. "Even if those pictures are of your nephew, do you have proof those boys did that to him? Are there any witnesses other than your niece? He could've gotten into a fight with someone else and blamed them."

I knew I had Twisted as a witness, but I didn't want to bring him into this. Besides, this prick wouldn't think a biker was a reliable witness. "Are you saying I'm a liar and so are my nephew and niece?"

"No, no, I'm just saying you have to look at it from my position. I have to protect all my students. You said this happened after school. Was it on school property?"

"Well, no, but it was between the schools. Aliya walks from here to meet her brother at the middle school. It's along their route where this keeps happening. One boy was punching him and another shoving him, while the third physically restrained my niece and touched her inappropriately. I came to you in order to put a stop to this. Now, there are two ways this can go. You can give me the phone numbers of their parents so I can speak to them and get this resolved or—," I was cut off swiftly.

"There's no way I can share such information with you! Those boys and their parents have rights," he protested.

"And we don't? My niece has the right not to be molested. My nephew has the right not to be beaten. You didn't allow me to finish. Either I speak to their parents and we mutually resolve it or I'll be forced to bring in outside help."

He rose from his chair and walked around the desk to where I was still standing to the side of it. He leaned into my personal space. If he thought he'd get me to back down by doing so, he was sadly mistaken. His attitude had me about to do something I hadn't planned to do.

"Do you honestly believe if you go to the police, they'll get involved in this? You have no proof and I can promise you, if you do, you'll only be stirring up trouble. I would think a woman like you would want to avoid trouble with your neighbors."

He smirked as he looked me up and down. I knew exactly what he meant. The cops wouldn't believe an Arab over a typical citizen. After all, I had to be one of those jihad terrorists everyone talked about. God, when would we ever catch a break? I was tired of always having to watch our backs and defend ourselves against so many people. I was a damn US citizen. I worked and paid taxes. I obeyed the laws. I was a helluva lot more law abiding than most.

Even if I suspected he was right, I wasn't about to tell him so or back down. What was to prevent those kids from seriously hurting or even killing Arif or raping Aliya? Nothing. The excuse they were just boys didn't fly with me. I'd seen the damage "just boys" could do. I shoved my face closer to his, which made him step away in surprise. This gave me room to move around the desk so I was able to lean forward on it.

"You have no idea what a woman like me might do. Are you going to give me their numbers?"

"No, I'm not. This has nothing to do with the school. You admit these incidents, if they really happened, occurred off school property. I'm sorry, but that's not within my purview," he said with a smug expression. I ached to knock it off his face. I gave him a brisk nod.

"Then I'll take this up with someone who can help. I'd hoped you would see the wrongness of this and help to protect children, but I guess not. Don't say I didn't give you the chance to handle it yourself." I ended my threat with a sneer as I ran my gaze up and down him the same way he had me. When I was done, I turned my back to him and marched for the door. I heard scrambling sounds coming from behind me.

"Ms. Hussain, was that a threat?" he yelled.

"Why no, it's merely a woman being a woman. You know how we like to have fun. Just like those three boys aren't dangerous, why would you think I am?" I asked sweetly with a bite to my tone as I kept going. I passed Dianne and her crony standing there with their mouths hanging open. When I got to the office's main door, I whipped around.

The three of them were standing there staring at me, stunned and angry. I pointed at Pecardi. "If anything happens to my nephew or niece, whether it's on these school grounds or not, and if it's done by those boys or not, you will be the one held responsible. Ant la taarfani. Anna ahmi ailti."

I enjoyed their frightened expressions. Maybe it was beneath me to tell them in Arabic rather than English, "You don't know me. I protect my family", but it felt good.

"What did you just say to us?" Pecardi asked in a panic like a scared twelve-year-old.

I chose not to answer him. Instead, I walked out the door. As I approached the main door, the security pup was standing up. He had his phone to his ear, and he was frowning. No doubt he was hearing about me. As he went to step toward me, I froze him with a glare. I shook my head at him. He sank back down, and as I passed him, I heard him lie.

"She didn't come this way, Mr. Pecardi. She must've left by another door."

I took my time getting to my car. It was a miracle there wasn't steam coming out of my ears. When I reached it, I drove off the school grounds. I had no doubt Pecardi would call the cops on me if I stayed. I went to the spot where I usually waited for Aliya when I picked her up. It wouldn't be too long before school was out. While I waited, I'd have to think about what I would do next. Pecardi was right. Going to the police wouldn't likely get me anywhere, which meant I had to think of something else. One thing was for sure: I wasn't about to forget it or assume it would go away.

Less than an hour later, I wasn't any closer to figuring out what to do other than to see if I might be able to find out the phone numbers of those cretins' parents some other way and knowing without a doubt, I had to prepare Aliya and Arif for worse. They both kept giving me uneasy glances the whole way home after I picked them up. Both had been surprised to see me when I was waiting for them. I hadn't told them I would pick them up today.

Most days, I was busy working, and instead of stopping to pick them up, they insisted they could walk. Only if it was freezing and snowy would I do it. It was their choice, not mine. I offered to do it daily, but they always insisted they'd rather have me get done earlier in the evening so we had time to make dinner together and enjoy some family time before they had to get ready for bed. Some of that time was spent helping them with homework if they needed it. Both were very bright kids, and they enjoyed learning.

Unlike some of the extremely traditional Muslim families back home, being Christian, we didn't believe in not educating girls. Even my ab , father, who had been more traditional, had insisted I be just as educated as my brother. Some of his friends asked him why. In our Bedouin culture, though it was much more modern than it had been hundreds of years ago, it was a patriarchal society. Sons were meant to carry on the family name and businesses. Daughters were good for making alliances with other families through marriages. I was blessed my father hadn't thought this way. He explained to his friends that his daughter was capable of bettering the world in more ways than just through marriage.

Maybe part of it was our om , mother, died when I was three. Ab had help from older ladies in the family to raise me, but the bulk of it fell on him. It was his choice. They would've gladly taken me in and raised me, but he refused to allow it. It made us closer in some ways.

Several years prior to his death, when things were getting worse in the Middle East, he found a way to send Zafir to America, to someone he knew, to help my brother get himself established. It was during his time here, before I came to join him, that he met his future wife, Nova.

I was twelve when I was sent to America. Ab insisted I go before him. It had been an adjustment to live in the States. I was blessed not only for Zafir but also for Nova. She was an American by birth and white, but she didn't see our differences or ethnicity. She helped us both to learn to navigate the world even when we ran into those who were prejudiced against us. It wasn't anything new. In our own country, we faced it from our own people who were Muslim because we weren't.

Unbeknownst to us, Ab smuggled his wealth out of Qatar to the trusted friend who helped Zafir. Ab wasn't a sheik, but he did have enough for a comfortable life. When he died unexpectedly a few months prior to his move to America to join us, we found out what he'd been hiding—not only the moving of his wealth but the fact he'd been ill and dying. According to his friend, he got his dying wish, for his children to become naturalized Americans. We'd both been able to go to school using some of the money we got from Ab .

When they married, Zafir was twenty and Nova eighteen, so they waited several years before starting a family. I was sixteen when they had Aliya. The pride and love on Zafir's face when he saw his daughter made me cry. The same was true three years later when they had Arif.

We ended up in Cherokee because of the solar energy company Zafir worked for. It had a production plant here, and they wanted him to help manage it. I was lucky enough to be able to go anywhere with my work, and since Nova could as well, we all moved here. When the kids and I lost them, I decided it was as good of a place to live as any, so we stayed. Sometimes I wondered if I should move us to a big city, but then I thought of all the challenges and threats we might encounter there, so we remained.

We didn't live extravagantly. Our house was small and older, but it was ours. Most of the money we had from Ab was in the bank or invested. I planned to use it for Arif and Aliya's education. At the rate she was going with her classes, she'd be looking at attending college as early as sixteen, or at least taking classes. My trip down memory lane came to an end when I got them inside the house and seated in the living room. They were giving me nervous looks, like they thought they were in trouble.

"What did we do wrong?" Aliya asked.

"Why do you assume you did something wrong?"

"You picked us up without us knowing you planned to. You haven't said more than ten words the whole way home and you have this funny look on your face," she said.

"You did one thing I wish you hadn't. You were having trouble with those kids and never mentioned it to me. But we talked about that last night. You're not in trouble. I need to talk to you however about going forward. I went to your school today and spoke to your principal, Aliya."

She groaned. "Why? If it were about those three idiots, he wouldn't do anything about them. They're football players, and their families donate money to the school's athletic department all the time. Matthew's mom is in the office most days, hanging out with the secretary."

This was news to me, not that it mattered. I still would've gone there and done what I did. Although, I now know the identity of the woman with Dianne. It was highly probable that she was Matt Pacer's mom. Good, I hoped she got an earful.

"Because I had to give him the opportunity to do the right thing, I asked for the numbers of their parents. He refused and, more or less, accused you both of lying. Then he backtracked and said if it happened, since it wasn't on school property, there was nothing he could do about it. When I warned him that if he didn't, I'd have to take the matter elsewhere, he hinted that the police wouldn't help either."

"Then you went for nothing. What good did it do us?" Arif asked in disgust.

"No, I didn't go for nothing. You can't just let people push you around and take advantage. There are times to lie low and times to stand up. Being harassed and hurt requires us to defend ourselves."

"What do we do now? Who're you going to get to help?" he asked.

"I'm still working on it but, in the meantime, you must be extra careful. I'll start picking you up from school. Aliya, you're the most vulnerable since they go to your school. I need you to be careful and never be alone with them. If others get involved or say stuff to you, even if it's your principal or teachers, you have to tell me right away. And we're resuming our self-defense workouts."

"We can't take weapons to school," Arif reminded me.

"I know, but that's not the only thing you can do. Until we get these boys to leave you alone, I'm not taking any chances. I know I've always told you not to fight at school, but this time, you have permission to do whatever you have to to protect yourselves."

Their frightened faces gutted me, but I had to make them aware. After what those boys did to them, I wouldn't put anything past them. There was no way I'd allow what was left of my family to be harmed or killed. Surely, there was someone in this town we could ask to help.