Free In the Language of Miracles by Rajia Hassib

to one-up them, he had taken to lying on the floor, his back against the wooden planks. Apparently, hard surfaces were conducive to meditation since they afforded only light sleep. His devotion tomeditation being less than his devotion to sleep, however, he slept in his bed, but took to the floor during daytime. “How am I supposed to stay awake at school if I only get light sleep?” he had protested when Khaled pointed out the futility of his efforts. Even on the floor, Garrett often ended up with a book in his hands: about Buddhism or Zoroastrianism, a safari travel guide, an overview of the botany of Siberia. Eventually, he ended up holding the phone, texting Hailee.
    Khaled looked at the pile of books. He knew Garrett had one on lepidoptera—a booklet, in fact; Khaled had picked up two copies at a science fair a few years before, back when he still hoped to interest Garrett in entomology. From the bed, he tried to spot the booklet in the pile, too embarrassed to ask about an old gift that Garrett had probably discarded. Khaled wished he had taken his copy to school with him that morning to reference in his latest post. His blog, started to cure him of Facebook withdrawal after he abruptly closed his account, had quickly evolved from one about bugs in general to one dedicated to migrating butterflies. Today, someone had challenged one of his earlier posts, and Khaled had spent the previous hour surfing the Internet, trying to find information that he knew was on the top right-hand side of the seventh page of his booklet—at home. The Internet provided him with answers, but he felt the booklet would supply the necessary proof. He would have to wait till he got home. Or write something temporary that he could later edit.
    Migration is different from dispersion. Dispersion is more random. Butterflies go from spot A to spot B and then C and so on. Migration is more direct. They know where they are going, and they fly to get there. I do have a booklet at home that explains it very well. Check again in a few hours and I’ll scan the page and put it up.
    â€œOkay.” Garrett suddenly sat up, his back straight as if he were about to start a series of crunches. He looked again at the phone, chuckled, and put it on the desk. Khaled knew Hailee had a sense of humor, but he did not ask what funny thing she had written. Even though he and Garrett had been best friends since kindergarten, he could never find the right way to talk to him about Hailee. Khaled had never had a girlfriend, and any discussion of Garrett’s relationship always reminded Khaled of that lack. His closest attempt at a relationship had come during his sophomore year. He had taken an interest in basketball, attending every girls’ game in order to cheer for Grace, a junior he would have sworn he was in love with and would remain in love with for the rest of his life. She had long blond hair that she pulled into a ponytail and was almost as tall as Khaled. Three days before Hosaam died, Khaled had finally approached her after a game, and, the following day, he mustered the courage to walk up to her at lunchtime. Then Hosaam died, and Khaled never spoke to Grace again.
    â€œSo how come we’re not at your house but here, listening to Myrtle gossip?”
    Khaled shut the laptop and shoved it to his side. “How do you know your mom is gossiping?”
    â€œShe never invites anyone over unless there’s a fresh scandal at work. I’ll be hearing all about it over dinner tonight. You might, too, if you stay.”
    â€œWhat’s for dinner?”
    â€œDon’t change the subject. How come you called off my interview?”
    Garrett got up and slouched in his computer chair, swirling from side to side. “Did
Setto
change her mind?”
    â€œNo, no, she didn’t. She’s honored. Thinks it’s a huge thing she’ll be mentioned in a newspaper.” Khaled smiled as he remembered his