Huda and Me H. Hayek (reading fiction txt) 📖

standing up. Aunt Amel didn’t seem to notice, though. She pointed her finger at him as she held the paper too close to her eyes and began to read.

‘Task one. Omar, you are on your L-plates. You will drive me everywhere I need to go. This helps you because I can teach you everything about driving and you can add it to your logbook. And – bonus – I get my own personal chauffeur!’ Aunt Amel grinned.

She took a step sideways to face Kholoud, who had her arms folded and looked like she was chewing something.

‘Task two. My dear, you have a fine eye for beauty and fashion. I would love to hire you as my personal stylist and beauty expert.’

My big sister beamed. Kholoud loves make-up and clothes more than anyone. I could tell from the look on her face that it was like a dream job she hadn’t even applied for. But she tried to stay cool.

‘Okay, sure. I don’t mind helping you out. I have some samples in my room I can try on you later.’

Aunt Amel clapped her hands together and then spun in a circle. She lost her footing for a moment and stumbled, but managed to stay upright. Then she turned to the twins.

‘Suha and Layla. Two wise souls.’ She paused to squint at them in an oh, so cute way, then went back to her list. ‘Your dad says you make the best tea in all the western suburbs. I’ve drunk your tea, and I agree! This task is perfect, because I drink tea by the gallon. You will be my personal tea- and cookie-makers. Well, you will be my little assistants, really – get me whatever I need, whenever I need it, including tea and cookies.’

The twins frowned. They turned to each other then turned back to Aunt Amel. Suha cleared her throat.

‘Excuse me, Aunt Amel. This isn’t reasonable. We enjoy making tea, but we shouldn’t be forced to do anything we don’t want to do.’

‘Oh no, no, no. You misunderstood me, my girls.’ Aunt Amel leaned her long body over, bringing her face closer to my sisters’. ‘What you need to do is refine your baking and tea-making skills, because I feel you could certainly win awards.’

‘Awards?’ my sisters stuttered at the same time.

‘Yes – worldwide recognition. I can see you on that famous cooking show. You know, the one with the funny aprons …’

Aunt Amel was waving her arms around, staring into the air, and my sisters weren’t frowning anymore – they were glowing. So Aunt Amel flicked her head towards me and Huda.

‘Akeal, ah, little Akoolie! We need a very important person to keep things clean around here. You will be, let’s agree, the butler of the house.’

My mind raced. I thought a butler carried a tray and wore a black vest. Most of the ones I’d seen on TV had no hair. They were all my dad’s age, with posh accents.

A million questions exploded in my head, but she just kept going.

‘Hoodie Boodie! You’re a bit like Akeal, I suppose. Very, uhh … useful. You will help Akeal. He’ll the butler of the house and you will be the maid.’

‘A maid? A maid for who?’ My sister scratched and shook her head at the same time.

‘For m— For the family. Your job is very important because you keep everything tidy and running flawlessly.’

‘I don’t know what flawlessly means,’ Huda shot back.

‘Hudie, it means your very important job is to keep us all happy, all the time! Make it a game, if you’d like!’

Aunt Amel pulled a tissue out of the tissue box on the kitchen bench and popped it onto Huda’s head.

‘You see, just like a real maid!’

Before Huda had a chance to protest or complain, Aunt Amel read out one last task: ‘And Raheed’s job is to stay with me all day. We’re going to spend my holiday together.’

I realised my baby brother wasn’t in the room with us, but figured he was still asleep.

As if she’d read my mind, Aunt Amel repeated: ‘All day and all night. With me. My holiday buddy. He’ll stay by my side until I’m relaxed and rested enough, knowing you’re all doing your little jobs perfectly.’ And Aunt Amel winked.

I had seen Aunt Amel hold Raheed. He always tried to climb back over to Mum.

Aunt Amel dug deep into her robe pocket again and pulled out more bits of messily scrunched-up paper, each with one of our names on them. She tossed them at us.

‘I understand you are small, and children do forget things. So here is your list of things to do, just in case.’ The way she said it made it sound like she was doing us a favour.

Dad’s alarm clock suddenly went off, interrupting our thoughts as we picked our lists up off the floor. A man’s voice reciting the call to prayer in Arabic blared from the small silver mosque-shaped clock that sat on the kitchen shelf. Dad had set the alarm to go off for each prayer, and it was time for the first of the day.

I thought Aunt Amel might remember then that Muslims don’t make kids act like small helpers and cleaners. I thought she might realise her paper lists were unfair, especially since the man’s voice was reminding her to pray instead.

Aunt Amel flinched. Then she walked slowly over to the clock and gazed at it for a moment before grabbing it and bolting towards the fridge. She opened the freezer door and shoved it in, the athan sound disappearing abruptly as she slammed the freezer door shut.

My eyes darted around at each of my siblings.

Kholoud’s face was still; she wasn’t even blinking. She lifted her hand and put it over her mouth. Even she knew this was going too far.

Omar’s eyes had shot open when the athan went off. He stared at the freezer door and then at Aunt Amel. Then he stepped forward. I noticed the list of chores Aunt Amel