The Graces (25 page)

Fifty fouza.

I shut out the shouting and taunts around me. I ignored the fact that every eye in here was on me and that I’d blown all chances of being inconspicuous. Fear crept in in its place. The same fear that had crouched in my stomach for the past three days. Since the night I’d been crawling around my uncle’s house after dark, on my way to Tamid’s, and overheard Aunt Farrah say my name.

‘—Amani?’

I hadn’t caught whatever had come before my name, but it was enough to make me stop.

‘She’s needing of a husband.’ My uncle Asid’s voice carried more than his first wife’s. ‘A man could finally beat some sense into her. In less than a month, Zahia will have been dead a year, and Amani will be clean and allowed to wed.’ Since my mother was hanged, folk had slowly stopped saying her name like a curse. Now my uncle mentioned her death more like a matter of business.

‘It’s hard enough to find a husband for your daughters.’ Aunt Farrah sounded irritated. ‘Now you want me to find one for my sister’s brat, too?’ Aunt Farrah never said my mother’s name. Not since she’d been hanged.

‘I’ll take her as a wife, then.’ Uncle Asid said it like he was talking about trading a horse. My arms nearly buckled into the sand.

Aunt Farrah made a disdainful hissing noise at the back of her throat. ‘She’s too young.’ There was an impatient tone in her voice that normally ended a conversation.

‘No younger than Nida was. She’s living in my house anyway. Eating my food.’ Aunt Farrah normally ruled the house as first wife, but every so often her
husband would root his feet, and just now Uncle Asid was warming to this idea unnervingly fast. ‘She can either stay here as my wife or leave as someone else’s.

I choose her to stay.’

I didn’t choose to stay.

I chose to get out or die trying.

And just like that, everything came into focus. Me and my target. Nothing mattered but the aim.

I pulled the trigger.

The first bottle broke instantly. The second teetered for a moment on the edge of the wooden bar. I could see the chip in the thick glass where I’d hit it. I held my breath as the bottle rocked back and forth.

Fifty fouza I might never see again.

Fifty fouza to lose and my only way out.

The bottle hit the ground and shattered.

The crowd roared. I let out a long breath.

When I turned around Hasan was looking like I was a snake who’d dodged a snare. Behind him the foreigner was watching me, eyebrows up. I couldn’t stop grinning behind my sheema. ‘How’d I do?’

Hasan’s lip curled. ‘Line up for round two.’

To read on buy the ebook
here
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Meet Hel, teenager and Queen of the Dead
.

Hel never wanted to be queen, but being a normal teenager wasn’t an option either. Now she’s stuck ruling the underworld. For eternity. She doesn’t want your pity. But she does demand you listen. It’s only fair you hear her side of the story …

She didn’t always hate everything.

Solomon
hasn’t left his house in three years, which is fine by him.

Lisa
will do anything to get into university – including befriending and ‘fixing’ Solomon for the benefit of a school psychology project.

And
Clark
, Lisa’s boyfriend, would do anything for her, because that’s what love is.

A wry comedy about friendship, growing up and accepting who you truly are.

Laure Eve is a French-British hybrid who grew up in Cornwall, a place saturated with myth and fantasy. Being a child of two cultures taught her everything she needed to know about trying to fit in at the same time as trying to stand out.

To find out more about Laure and her books, go to
www.laureeve.co.uk