Free Towelhead by Alicia Erian Page A

didn’t want to try. I didn’t want to hear a bunch of nice things from someone I didn’t even know. It didn’t mean anything.
    The next day, at the beginning of French class, I showed Madame Madigan my letter and asked if she would help me. She got very excited, then stood up from her desk and said she’d be right back. A few minutes later, she returned with Xerox copies of the letter. She had the whole class break into five groups, and we were each assigned a paragraph to translate. My group got the one that said: I hope that one day we will meet and I will be able to kiss your cheeks and tell you how much I love you. It is important for you to know your Lebanese family. Please come to Beirut as soon as possible. Grandma.
    By the end of class, everyone was calling me a towelhead. They also called me a sand nigger and a camel jockey, which I’d never heard of before. Even Thomas Bradley, who was black, called me a sand nigger.
    I felt really terrible all the way home. On the bus, I sat by myself at the back and thought about the lady in the golf cart, squeezing my legs together. That helped a little, but then, when I got to the Vuosos’, there was a note for me on the kitchen table. It was from Mrs. Vuoso, and the envelope was sealed. “What’s this?” I asked Zack, and he said how should he know. I opened it, and it said: Dear Jasira, I’ve noticed that my tampons seem to be disappearing from the back of the toilet. I wondered if maybe you had borrowed some? If so, I would appreciate it if you would stop. They’re kind of expensive, and I’m sure if you asked your father, he would get you whatever supplies you need. Thanks, Mrs. V.
    â€œWhat does it say?” Zack asked.
    â€œNothing,” I said, putting the note in my pocket.
    â€œAre you in trouble?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what is it?”
    â€œWe need to go next door to get the birdies I lost yesterday.”
    â€œWhy?” he said. “We still have a bunch left.”
    â€œI’m going next door,” I told him.
    â€œI don’t want to go,” he said.
    â€œSo stay here.”
    â€œYou’re supposed to be babysitting me,” he said.
    â€œI thought you didn’t need a babysitter.”
    He ignored this and said, “If you go next door, you can’t get paid for when you’re gone.”
    â€œFine,” I said.
    He checked his watch. “You can’t get paid from starting now.”
    â€œFine,” I said again, and I left.
    I went over to the lady’s and knocked. At first no one answered, then she came to the door wearing a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. “Hi,” I said, “I need to get our birdies again.”
    â€œSure,” she said. “C’mon in.”
    I followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. She was setting up a large spice rack on the counter, and I noticed that she had a lot of the same ones as Daddy: cumin, coriander, turmeric, cardamom, fenugreek.
    â€œWhere’s your friend?” she asked.
    â€œZack?”
    She nodded.
    â€œHe’s at home.”
    â€œWhat a mouth on that kid,” she said, shaking her head.
    â€œHe didn’t mean it,” I said. “He’s only ten.”
    â€œI don’t care how old he is.”
    She started alphabetizing the spices. She seemed very organized, like Daddy, even though she dressed kind of messy. After a while, I went outside and got the birdies. When I came back in, I tried to think of something else to talk about so I wouldn’t have to go back to the Vuosos’. “What’s your name?” I asked.
    â€œMelina,” she said.
    I nodded. “Do you have any tampons?”
    She laughed. “Tampons? What would I be doing with tampons?”
    I didn’t know what she meant by this. She stopped working then and looked at me. “You don’t get your period when you’re pregnant,” she said.