Free A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic by Lisa Papademetriou Page A

life would be like in the United States.
    â€œLiberty Market,” Jamila Tai announced, as if she were a stewardess. She led Leila to the bangle stall and Wali stood on tiptoe to help her choose. Leila was pretty sure that Ta’Mara’s favorite color was purple, but Wali insisted that turquoise was the nicest, so that’s what Leila chose. Then the jewelry seller—a pockmarked man with large ears and several missing teeth—tried to interest her in some earrings. He held them up to his own ears, as if he were a model. Leila had to mash her lips together to keep herself from giggling. For a moment, she considered getting them for Aimee, but rejected the idea just as quickly. What would be the point? “Just these,” Leila said, gesturing to the turquoise bangles.
    They went to a store that sold CDs and DVDs—all pirated, and offered for a fraction of the price that they would cost in the United States.
    â€œPakistan Idol!” Wali cried, pointing to a rack of CDs. “Zamad Baig!”
    â€œHe won the first season,” Rabeea explained. “Wali is his biggest fan.”
    â€œNooo,” Wali singsonged. “I wanted the other one to win.”
    â€œMuhammad Shoaib,” Jamila Tai said. “Samir favored him, too.”
    Rabeea smiled, clearly embarrassed. “It’s my mom’s favorite show.”
    â€œAnd yours!” Wali chirped, as Rabeea glared.
    â€œIt’s my mom’s favorite, too,” Leila said. “I mean, American Idol is. I don’t know if she knows about Pakistan Idol .” It seemed funny and strange to see Pakistan Idol written out in the same text used for the show in the United States, just as it was strange to see a Spider-Man balloon for sale beside a man selling mangoes from a donkey cart. For Leila, Pakistan was a jumble of the familiar and unfamiliar, which made every moment seem like a dream.
    Leila bought a copy of the Pakistan Idol CD for her mom. Then Rabeea announced that she wanted to gether eyebrows threaded. Jamila Tai wanted to get her hair blown out and set. “What would you like, Leila?” she asked. “Would you like to have your nails painted?”
    â€œOh, no, thank you.” Leila’s friends were into nail polish, but Leila thought it made her fingers feel weird and heavy.
    â€œI don’t want to go to the beauty parlor!” Wali whined.
    Jamila Tai was about to insist that Leila come, but Leila offered to take Wali to get ice cream, instead. This was met with a response from Wali that was so enthusiastic as to be irresistible.
    â€œHe’ll just drive us crazy if he stays with us, anyway,” Rabeea said, already heading up the steps to the salon.
    Jamila Tai frowned, but in the end, she had to agree. There was an ice-cream place only three doors down from the beauty parlor. She didn’t need to point it out. Wali knew the way.
    As Jamila Tai and Rabeea disappeared behind the frosted glass door, Leila felt happy, and almost triumphant. She was in a foreign country, and she was taking her little cousin for ice cream. This felt very Elizabeth Dear. “What’s your favorite flavor?” she asked Wali.
    â€œVanilla!” he said, which made her laugh. “Is vanilla wrong?” he asked.
    â€œAbsolutely not,” Leila told him. “Vanilla’s great. Classic.”
    Ahead of them, a boy walked down the street leading two goats. One was white, except for a long red stripe down his back, and a red marking on his right flank in the shape of a flower. The other was black. Both goats wore garlands of flowers on their horns and around their necks. They were the fanciest goats Leila had ever seen.
    â€œWow!” Leila said, reaching for her camera.
    â€œThey are for Eid,” Wali explained as Leila snapped a photo.
    The boy leading the goats looked questioningly at Leila. She gave the boy a thumbs-up.
    He said something to her in Punjabi, so she smiled and