She Wore Red Trainers by Na'ima B. Robert Page B

want to divide the family, that he had everything under control.’
    â€˜Well, he doesn’t,’ I said grimly. ‘I don’t think Dad realises the extent of our problems out here.’ I heard the door close behind me and I swung round to see Dad crossing the corridor to go into the kitchen. ‘Listen, Nana, let’s talk next week when you come, OK?’
    â€˜OK, darling, I’ll see you then.’

20
    I couldn’t stop fidgeting after I saw the police car pull up outside Ali’s house. My mind was buzzing with questions: why were the police there? What had Ali’s brother done?
    I didn’t have to wait for long to find out. Zayd went over there and found out that the middle boy, Umar, had been in a fight with some boys from the estate nearby.
    â€˜He really doesn’t know who he’s messing with,’ was Zayd’s comment. ‘The boys round here don’t like strangers. If you come on to their turf, they can get really crazy.’
    â€˜Doesn’t he know that he needs to watch his back around here?’ I couldn’t believe it. The boy looked about 14, too old to be that naive.
    â€˜Well, they’re not from the city, innit. Things are different out in the countryside. He’s going to have to adjust fast…’
    I shuddered to think of the police turning up at our doorstep but then again, it was hardly likely, was it? Zayd had been on the straight and narrow for as long as I could remember. He had never been one of those boys out on the road, even while all his friends were getting into trouble for postcode-related beef and petty crime. They were mosque boys, too, brought up coming to jum’ah in thobes and kufis , hanging with the brothers from age seven. But that hadn’tbeen enough to keep them out of trouble, not with the mean streets of South London all around them. So, one by one, they fell away, coming to the masjid less and less. They started changing: their dress, the way they spoke, what they spoke about. I know it hurt Zayd to see his childhood friends turn gangster on him. He had never been into all that.
    â€˜Keep your head down and stick to your deen ,’ Uncle Faisal, Abdullah’s dad, had told him. And Zayd had listened. He had done well at school and set his sights on uni. When the offer to study in Saudi Arabia came up, he was ready.
    I was proud of him. He was one of the few good examples for the younger boys coming up in the community. Aside from the fact that he was a bit over-the-top when it came to certain things, I knew that I wouldn’t exchange him for any of the other boys his age. My Haram Police Officer was here to stay.
    By now, Taymeeyah, Abdullah and Malik were clamouring to be taken to the park.
    â€˜Come on, sis,’ Zayd said, pulling at my arm. ‘Let’s take them to the park, just like old times.’
    How could I say no?
    ***
    What a blessing to have a gorgeous park literally minutes from your door! As I watched the rugrats take over the pavement with their bikes and scooters, I smiled and took a deep breath.
    I watched Zayd as he ran ahead to help Malik get his scooter straightened up. Poor kid was always getting it twisted up and ending up hanging off the kerb. Zayd waited for me to catch up with him.
    I grabbed his arm and squeezed it. He laughed, clearly a little embarrassed at my public display of affection.
    â€˜Hey, what’s up, Ams?’ he chuckled, trying to untangle himself.
    â€˜Nothing,’ I smiled up at him. ‘I’m just really proud of you, that’s all.’
    â€˜Aww, sis, what’s this all about? You going soft on me or what?’ He punched me lightly on my shoulder and I returned the favour.
    â€˜Nah, not soft. I’m just glad that you’re my brother, that’s all. I’m glad that Abdullah and Malik have you as a role model…’
    If I didn’t know better, I would have said that Zayd was blushing. But, of