You're Not Proper (6 page)

‘I can teach her, you know,' Dad said. ‘Go on then,' Mum said.

Dad rubbed his hand on his stomach and then on his head, and said, ‘I will.' Turning to me, he said, ‘Come on Kiran, let's start right now. We'll start with the
Qaida
, and you can learn it just like I did. And then I'll teach you how to pray.'

Mum sniggered again. I went to the living room with Dad carrying the books. He cleared the coffee table and sat on the sofa. I sat down next to him.

‘Do you mind if I just check on the score before we start?' Dad asked, holding the TV remote.

I smiled and shook my head. He flicked through a few screens and then turned the television off. He opened the first page of the
Qaida
, pointed to the first letter, and said, ‘
Alif
.'

‘
Alif
,' I repeated.

‘
Bey
,' he said, pointing to the next letter.

I repeated as he went along. I was so happy to be sitting with my Dad learning Arabic letters that I must have been the happiest girl in the world. I couldn't remember any other time we had sat together for so long, me and my Dad. As we were going over the letters for a second or third time, Mum came into the room and moaned, ‘Lucky! Don't smoke a cigarette next to Kiran, and not while you're trying to teach her to read the Quran!'

Dad quickly stubbed it out, blowing the smoke away from me. ‘I think you've done enough for today on the reading,' Dad said. ‘You're going to teach me how to pray?'

‘Course I am,' he said, walking out of the room. Mum smiled at me a sort of
I'dliketosee
kind of a look and followed Dad out. I put the
Qaida
away and went to the kitchen to help Mum. I heard Dad stomping down the stairs calling me back into the living room. Mum followed me.

Dad was looking all around the room a bit puzzled. He said, ‘I just can't remember which way the
Kabah
is.'

‘Mum nodded towards the television corner. Dad looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and said, ‘Yes. You're absolutely right.'

‘I bet you'd have said that whatever Mum said,' I thought. ‘You haven't got a prayer mat,' Mum said.

‘I have,' he said, spreading a big, red towel in the space in front of the television. It was a Manchester United towel, with a picture of Alex Ferguson on it.

‘I'm not praying on that…'

Dad picked the towel up, turned it over and spread it out on the floor. It had a picture of Rooney on the other side.

‘Oh Dad!' He stepped onto the towel, raised his hands to his ears, and said, ‘First you do this, and you say “
Allah O Akbar
,” bending down towards his knees, he said, ‘and then you do this and,' he stood upright, and said, ‘then you do this…'

Mum interrupted, ‘For god's sake, Lucky, you're drinking beer and teaching Kiran how to pray!'

Handing a half-drunk can of beer he was holding in his hand to Mum, he said, ‘You're right about that.'

‘You'd better take this girl to the mosque or somewhere, Lucky,' Mum said, ‘She wants to learn it properly.'

Aren't Mums just full of surprises? I had got myself into a bit of sulk. I really wanted to dress up but couldn't decide what to do. I was going to ask Mum to help me dress up for the Halloween party at school, but the way she had gone all quiet ever since I told her I wanted to be a Muslim, like
it
was going to hit our house again, made me think it better not to bother.

‘Kiran sweetheart…?'

‘What've I done now?' I grunted turning my face away from her. ‘Haven't you forgotten something?' Mum said coming closer to me. ‘What?'

‘What's tonight, dear?'

‘Tonight's, tonight. What's it with you?' ‘You're angry aren't you?'

‘No.'

‘You
are
,' Mum said stroking my head. ‘Not,' I replied brushing her hand off. Don't you just hate it when Mums do this? ‘It's Halloween, Kiran?'

‘So.'

‘I thought you wanted to go to your party at school.'

I turned around. She was all smiles. She had a shopping bag in her hand. Putting the bag on my bed she asked, ‘What do you want to dress up as?'

I didn't reply. I heard Dad stomping up the stairs.

‘What about a big, hairy monster?' Mum said pulling a big mask out of the bag with long, straggly hair, a hairy face with red vampire teeth.

I burst out laughing. Dad popped his head into my room and then came in. He stared at Mum's hideous thing, running his hand over his big belly.

‘What's so funny?' Mum asked. ‘It's a Halloween costume.'

Dad started laughing and Mum asked him all serious like, ‘What's with you, Lucky?'

‘I'm just laughing ‘cause she's laughing,' and then turning to me he asked, ‘What's the joke, Kiran?' ‘It's not a joke, Dad. If I put this thing on at school they'll say I look like you,' I said.

Mum laughed. Dad waved his hand dismissively in the air and went to the bathroom. After he left, I said to Mum, ‘Seriously though, Mum, I want to be something special not just a mask from a shop.'

‘Well I won't bother showing you the other one then,' Mum said shoving the hairy thing back into the bag. ‘I got a load of paints. What shall we do?'

I turned my computer on and searched for some ideas. And then I saw one, the perfect one for me. I could just picture myself in it. One side of my face painted in sharp angles of blood red. The other side white, with shining red lipstick, with my messed up hair falling on my face.

Dad flushed the toilet, came out of the bathroom, popped his head into my room again and said, ‘Mum and daughter moment is it?'

He waited for us to respond but we ignored him and he added, ‘Halloween this week, sports week next week. Don't you lot study any more, just party?'

We ignored him again and he went back downstairs.

I pointed to the one I liked and Mum said, ‘Perfect.'

She rummaged about in the bag and brought some paints out. I sat on a chair in front of my desk and looked at myself in my big mirror that sat on top of the desk. Mum ran her fingers through my hair saying, ‘It's so soft, your curly hair, so soft.'

‘I was thinking Mum, I'd like it all messy but what do you think of it being spiky?'

‘Spiky!' Mum giggled like a little girl. ‘Yeh, spiky, really spiky.'

‘Crikey!' Mum said. ‘OK. I got all the stuff for it.' We both laughed.

Mum went downstairs to get a tray so she could squeeze the paint onto it and I went through a few more images of ghouls and things like that. I thought maybe I would look good as a hook-nosed witch, but then rejected the idea with the thought that half the gormless girls at school would turn up as witches with stupid broomsticks. Then there was this Dracula-type with big, bloody fangs, but I didn't like this one either, as half the barmy boys fancied themselves as vampires. By the time Mum came back, I was convinced I had made the wrong choice but then decided I could see what I looked like and if I didn't like it, I'd go for a witch.

Squeezing some red paint into a silver, stainless steel tray, Mum said, ‘You've always been like this you know.' ‘Like what, Mum, a monster?'

‘No, silly! Once you make your mind up, there's no changing it,' Mum said dipping a brush into the red paint. ‘If only,' I thought.

‘You know, Kiran, if you have spiky hair, maybe blood red lightening streaks might be better than splotches.

‘OK,' I said, and thought, ‘You're wicked, Mum. Perfect.'

As she drew the first lightning shape on the left side of my face, Mum said, ‘Do you remember the mp3 player we bought you for your tenth birthday?'

I smiled. I loved Mum telling me things about when I was younger. ‘You'd taken it to school with you and you're not allowed to do that are you?'

I shook my head. Mum's brush slipped.

‘Don't move!' Mum said, putting the brush down in the tray. She picked up a tissue and cleaned my face a little, saying, ‘I had to go to school and get it back for you. All the way home in the car, you kept saying, “I didn't know it was in the bag.” And, “So and so brings one, and nothing happens to them, and it's so unfair.” When we got home, your Dad was snoring on the sofa. I went into the kitchen and you came in after me, with your new headphones plugged into your ears, holding your new toy. The music was so loud I could hear it even as I washed. I could hear your Dad shouting for something. And then he barged into the kitchen. You were so startled you dropped the mp3 player on the floor and it broke.' Mum dipped the brush into some black paint and asked, ‘Do you know what you said to your Dad?'

‘No!' I lied.

Mum picked up a clean brush and said, swirling it around in the red paint, ‘You turned around towards your Dad and shouted, “You broke my mp3 player.” He was so shocked, he nearly jumped out of his skin and he said, “You dropped it, not me.” And you said, “It's because of you and Mum that I was born, and if I hadn't been born, I wouldn't have dropped it and it wouldn't have broken and I hate you.”'

‘What did Dad say?' I asked Mum, hoping this time I might get the bit of this story that never seemed to come out.

Mum went quiet and continued swirling the brush in the red paint. She took a deep breath and said, carefully painting the outline for the teeth on my face, ‘He didn't.'

I wanted to say to Mum, I know he went quiet, just like you go all quiet, but instead I let out a false laugh and Mum continued painting my face.

Mum was about to leave to get some spray for my hair but I stopped her.

Pointing to the mirror I said, ‘Mum, this is stupid.'

Dad was coming back up the stairs. Mum nodded towards Dad's footsteps and said, ‘He's on the beer again.'

Ignoring Mum, I said, ‘I look ridiculous,' and rushed past her. I wanted to get to the bathroom before Dad went in. He was already at the top of the stairs. He saw me and screamed.

‘Dad!' I hissed back, ran into the bathroom and quickly washed everything off.

I came back into my bedroom still drying my face with a towel. Mum and Dad were looking at each other. Mum had her hands on her hips and Dad was scratching his arm.

‘I'm not going,' I said.

Mum smiled, opened the bag on the bed and pulled out another mask. It was of Guy Fawkes, his white plastic face and his perfect black eyebrows, with his moustache going up towards his puffed, red cheeks and his sliver of a beard running down his chin from the middle of his bottom lip.

‘Mum, you are the best,' I said. It was perfect. I could just put it on and take it off.

‘Guy Fawkes, Sharon!' Dad said, rubbing his head with both his hands. ‘What's wrong with that?' Mum asked in disbelief at Dad.

‘Yeh, what's wrong with that, Dad?' I asked, throwing the towel onto my bed.

Dad ignored me and said to Mum, ‘He was a Catholic, Guy Fawkes was.' ‘And?' Mum said.

‘You're one. Have you no shame, all this burning poor Catholic Guy every fifth of November?' Dad looked so serious.

‘It's not the fifth of November, if you haven't worked it out,' Mum said. She was having difficulty stopping herself from laughing.

‘He's the only man who has ever wanted to go to the Houses of Parliament for the right reason,' Dad said.

Mum burst out laughing. She pushed Dad towards the door saying, ‘You're outrageous. Outrageous. Just go to the bog, you've had too much beer.'

As Dad walked out of my room, I tried to work out what was so funny, but couldn't and then I understood and shouted after Dad, ‘You are just mad, Dad. Mad.'

As he shut the door of the bathroom Mum shouted at him, ‘And just so you don't forget, Kiran is in the 100 metre finals at school next Wednesday. And you're going to cheer her on. I'm working late.'

I put the mask on my face and said to Mum, ‘He won't remember.' ‘He'll be there,' Mum said as Dad went past.

‘He won't,' I said.

Dad looked at me, shook his head and said, ‘He will. And if you win, he'll take you on a treat.'

‘You will take her on a treat, even if she doesn't,' Mum said. ‘It's about time you spent some quality time with your daughter, and less with the lager cans.'

‘Bitter,' Dad corrected Mum. Mum dropped me off at the school party.

The assembly hall looked really spooky. There were dark, painted lanterns all around. Black drapes hanging down the walls. Large candles burned on the stage. The hall was full of Draculas; Spider-Men with fangs; witches and skeletons galore and to my surprise there was only one other Guy Fawkes. This other Guy Fawkes saw me and swaggered toward me followed by four broom-wielding witches.

When Guy Fawkes got close to me, I said, ‘Hey Guy, great minds think alike, eh.'

Guy Fawkes's hands went up, as if in disbelief. The witches looked at each other and giggled.

Just then, Guy Fawkes grabbed a broomstick off one of the witches and prodded me hard in the chest. It hurt.

‘How dare you!' Guy Fawkes said. It was a voice I knew well and dreaded.

As soon as I heard Shamshad's voice from behind the Guy Fawkes mask, my blood froze. She prodded the broomstick into me again, harder this time. I think it was a Year 8 who stopped me from falling. I hated my mask, but I was glad I was wearing it. Shamshad and her witches wouldn't be able to see my stupid, ugly face. I know I should have said something to her, told her what a bitch she was, but that was me, the good little girl, who never did anything wrong, just always wanted to please everybody.

I moved away from her and her cronies as fast as I could. A Dracula with one of his canine teeth missing said to me as I rushed past him, ‘Penny for the Guy.' A Frankenstein laughed. But I found nothing funny. I kept turning around, trying to see if Shamshad was looking for me. I waited for a little while and when I was sure she was no where near the main door, I bolted out of the hall and telephoned Mum to pick me up. I was so relieved when she said she was already in the school car park.