equally bratty. I think she’s about eight years old.
“Go upstairs,” Azel says again, “or I’ll hide all your dolls.”
“Stupid. Now I know to beat you to it.”
“Aisha!”
Aisha looks at me. Her mouth forms a little “o” of surprise.
I laugh, scarcely able to help myself. She’s cute. “You don’t have to leave,” I say, although it’s really none of my business. Girls need to stick together.
“Who are you?” Aisha plows right on. “You’re not related to me, are you?”
“Nope.” Is it bad that I already want to hug her? “Not that I know of.”
“Oh,” Aisha says. She rolls away from me, uninterested. “Azel,” she says, “can I go play on the computer?”
“Have or have I not been telling you to go upstairs for the past two minutes?”
Aisha hops up off the floor. She trots out to the staircase. Azel shuts the TV off, grumbling.
“Sorry,” I say, still laughing. “She’s so sweet.”
Azel twitches. “You’re joking.”
“I always wanted a sister,” I tell him. I sit down on the carpet, cross-legged. “Especially a little sister. Somebody’s hair to braid.”
“I’m not about to braid hair anytime soon.”
“Why not? Broaden your horizons.”
Azel sits down with me, his eyebrows spasming. I want to laugh all over again at the sight of it, but I suppose he’s had enough laughter at his expense.
Instead I take in the rest of the sitting room. Rolled up prayer rugs sit together underneath an ornate, semicircular niche in the wall. Another wall’s devoted to nothing but report cards. But there—above the space heater—I see it: a photograph. A swan-shaped cloud bursting free from an ocean of gold and green and gray.
Azel takes the picture frame off the wall. He hands it to me. Swan Nebula , reads the little placard under the photograph. Wide Field Planetary Camera 2, 1999.
“That picture hung in my mom’s office for ten years,” Azel says. He sits back down, rubbing his shoulder. “She was a professor at the university in Nizwa.”
It’s real. It’s real. Seeing it in front of me confirms it, the blood freezing in my veins, my head light on my shoulders. I didn’t imagine it. I’m not insane.
“But that means—” I shut up.
“What?” Azel asks. I hand him the photograph and he takes it. He puts it on the floor. He pinches his eyebrows together thoughtfully. “What’s the matter?”
“I…” Back at square one. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
I don’t know where to begin.
So I let it out, all at once, regardless of how nuts it sounds.
“I had a headache. A bad one. I saw… It was like it was in my head, but it wasn’t, it was like I left my body— I saw planets and stars. I saw that nebula. I swear I saw it. I had never seen it before.”
I draw in a deep breath. Dizzy. Afraid.
Something is very wrong with me.
Azel’s face slackens. He closes his mouth.
“I believe you,” he says.
My heart just about stops, I swear. “No way is it that easy…”
“Why? You think I’m supposed to jump to conclusions and assert that you’re crazy? I try not to believe or disbelieve in anything unless I have a reason to.”
“Then what’s the reason?”
“The Prophet Muhammad somehow knew exactly what stages an embryo has to go through to become a fetus. An embryo. You know how small that is, right? And we’re talking about the year AD 610. There’s no way the prevailing science at the time could have looked inside a mother’s womb. But there it is in the Quran. Bones come before muscles. Hearing comes before seeing and seeing comes before feeling. How did Muhammad know that? How could anyone have known that? Sometimes ordinary human beings can do things they shouldn’t be able to do. You say you saw something with your eyes that nobody’s ever seen in person. If I’m
“Go upstairs,” Azel says again, “or I’ll hide all your dolls.”
“Stupid. Now I know to beat you to it.”
“Aisha!”
Aisha looks at me. Her mouth forms a little “o” of surprise.
I laugh, scarcely able to help myself. She’s cute. “You don’t have to leave,” I say, although it’s really none of my business. Girls need to stick together.
“Who are you?” Aisha plows right on. “You’re not related to me, are you?”
“Nope.” Is it bad that I already want to hug her? “Not that I know of.”
“Oh,” Aisha says. She rolls away from me, uninterested. “Azel,” she says, “can I go play on the computer?”
“Have or have I not been telling you to go upstairs for the past two minutes?”
Aisha hops up off the floor. She trots out to the staircase. Azel shuts the TV off, grumbling.
“Sorry,” I say, still laughing. “She’s so sweet.”
Azel twitches. “You’re joking.”
“I always wanted a sister,” I tell him. I sit down on the carpet, cross-legged. “Especially a little sister. Somebody’s hair to braid.”
“I’m not about to braid hair anytime soon.”
“Why not? Broaden your horizons.”
Azel sits down with me, his eyebrows spasming. I want to laugh all over again at the sight of it, but I suppose he’s had enough laughter at his expense.
Instead I take in the rest of the sitting room. Rolled up prayer rugs sit together underneath an ornate, semicircular niche in the wall. Another wall’s devoted to nothing but report cards. But there—above the space heater—I see it: a photograph. A swan-shaped cloud bursting free from an ocean of gold and green and gray.
Azel takes the picture frame off the wall. He hands it to me. Swan Nebula , reads the little placard under the photograph. Wide Field Planetary Camera 2, 1999.
“That picture hung in my mom’s office for ten years,” Azel says. He sits back down, rubbing his shoulder. “She was a professor at the university in Nizwa.”
It’s real. It’s real. Seeing it in front of me confirms it, the blood freezing in my veins, my head light on my shoulders. I didn’t imagine it. I’m not insane.
“But that means—” I shut up.
“What?” Azel asks. I hand him the photograph and he takes it. He puts it on the floor. He pinches his eyebrows together thoughtfully. “What’s the matter?”
“I…” Back at square one. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
I don’t know where to begin.
So I let it out, all at once, regardless of how nuts it sounds.
“I had a headache. A bad one. I saw… It was like it was in my head, but it wasn’t, it was like I left my body— I saw planets and stars. I saw that nebula. I swear I saw it. I had never seen it before.”
I draw in a deep breath. Dizzy. Afraid.
Something is very wrong with me.
Azel’s face slackens. He closes his mouth.
“I believe you,” he says.
My heart just about stops, I swear. “No way is it that easy…”
“Why? You think I’m supposed to jump to conclusions and assert that you’re crazy? I try not to believe or disbelieve in anything unless I have a reason to.”
“Then what’s the reason?”
“The Prophet Muhammad somehow knew exactly what stages an embryo has to go through to become a fetus. An embryo. You know how small that is, right? And we’re talking about the year AD 610. There’s no way the prevailing science at the time could have looked inside a mother’s womb. But there it is in the Quran. Bones come before muscles. Hearing comes before seeing and seeing comes before feeling. How did Muhammad know that? How could anyone have known that? Sometimes ordinary human beings can do things they shouldn’t be able to do. You say you saw something with your eyes that nobody’s ever seen in person. If I’m
Similar Books
