Chapter Ten Is Khalil Doing Drugs?

I was sitting in an Adirondack chair eating toast and reading a magazine when my mother came out and joined me. She had that serious look on her face, her look of purpose, the one she got when she wanted to have one of her mother-daughter talks. I dreaded those talks the same way I dreaded my period.

"What are you doing today?" she asked me casually.

   I stuffed the rest of my toast into my mouth. This?"

  "Maybe you could get started on your summer reading for AP English," she said, reaching over and brushing some crumbs off my chin.

   "Yeah, I was planning on it," I said, even though I hadn't been.

    My mother cleared her throat. "Is Khalil doing drugs?" she asked me.

  “What?“

 “Is Khalil doing drugs?"

    I almost choked. "No! Why are you asking me anyway? Khalil doesn't talk to me. Ask Amir."

  “I already did. He doesn't know. He wouldn't lie,"she said, peering at me

   "Well, I wouldn't either!"

  My mother sighed. I know. Beck's worried. He's been acting differently. He quit football…”

     I quit dance," I said, rolling my eyes. "And you don't see me running around with a crack pipe."

She pursed her lips. "Will you promise to tell me if I don't know something?”

“I don’t know…." I said teasingly. I didn't need to promise her. I knew Khalil wasn't doing drugs. A beer was one thing, but he would never do drugs. I would bet my life on it.

"Zarah , this is serious."

"Mom, chill. He's not doing drugs. When'd you turn into such a narc, anyway? You're one to talk." I elbowed her playfully.

   She bit back a smile and shook her head. "Don't start."

The first time they did it, they thought we didn't know. It was actually pretty stupid of them, because it was one of those rare nights when we were all at home. We were in the living room. Khalil was listening to music with his headphones on, and Malik and Amir were playing a video game. I was sitting on the La-Z-Boy reading Emma-mostly because I thought it made me look smart, not really because I enjoyed it. IfI was reading for real, I would be locked in my room with Flowers in the Attic or something and not Jane Austen.

I think Amir smelled it first. He looked around, sniffed like a dog, and then said, "Do you guys smell that?"

"I told you not to eat all those baked beans, Amir ," Malik said, his eyes focused on the TV Screen.

I snickered. But it wasn't gas; I smelled it too. It was pot. “It's pot," I said, loudly. I wanted to be the one who said it first, to prove how sophisticated and knowledgeable I was.

 “No way," said Malik.

  Khalil took off his headphones and said, “Zarah's right. It's pot."

     Amir paused the game and turned to look at me. "How do you know what pot smells like, Zarah?" he asked me suspiciously.

"Because, Amir, I get high all the time. I'm burnout. You didn't know?" I hated it when Amir pulled the big brother routine, especially in front of Khalil and Malik. It was like he was trying to make me feel small on purpose.

He ignored me. “Is that coming from upstairs?"  It's my mom's," Khali said, putting his headphones back on again. For her chemo."

Malik didn't know, I could tell. He didn't say anything, but he looked confused and even hurt, the way he scratched the back of his neck and looked off into space for a nminute. Amir and I exchanged a look. It was awkward, whenever Leila's cancer came up, the two of us being outsiders and all. We never knew what to say, so we didn't say anything. We mostly pretended it wasn't happening, the way Malik did.

My mother didn't, though. She was matter-of-fact, calm, the way she is about everything. Leila said my mother made her feel normal. My mother was good at that, making people feel normal. Safe. Like as long as she was there, nothing truly bad could happen.

When they came downstairs a little while later, they were giggling like two teenagers who had snuck into their parents' liquor cabinet. Clearly my mother had partaken in Leila's stash as well.

   Amir and I exchanged another look, this time a horrified one. My mother was probably the last person on earth who would smoke pot, with the exception of our grandmother Gran, her mother.

“Did you kids cat all the Cheetos?" my mother asked, rummaging through a cabinet. "I'm starving."

“Yes," Amir said. He couldn't even look at her.

"What about that bag of Fritos? Get those,"

Leila ordered, coming up behind my La-Z-Boy. She touched my hair lightly, which I loved. 

Leila was much more affectionate than my mother in those kinds of ways, and she was always calling me the daughter she never had. She loved sharing me with my mother, and my mother didn't mind. Neither did I.

“HOW are you liking Emma so far?" she asked me. Leila had a way of focusing on you that made you feel like the most interesting person in the room.

   I opened my mouth to lie and tell her how great I thought it was, but before I could, Khalil said very loudly, She hasn't turned a page in over an hour." He was still wearing his headphones.

  I glared at him, but inside I was thrilled that he had noticed. For once, he had been watching me. But of course he'd noticed Khalil noticed everything. Khalil would notice if the neighbor's dog had more crust in its right eye than its left, or if the pizza delivery guy was driving a different car. It wasn't really a compliment to be noticed by Khalil. It was a matter of fact.

“You'll love it once it gets going," Leila assured me, sweeping my bangs across my forehead.

"It always takes me a while to get into a book," I said, in a way that sounded like I was saying sorry.I didn't want her to feel bad, seeing as how she was the one who`d recommended it to me.

Then my mother came into the room with a bag of Twizzlers and the half-eaten bag of Fritos. She tossed a Twizzler at Leila and said, belatedly, "Catch!"

Leila reached for it, but it fell on the floor, and she giggled as she picked it up. "Clumsy me," she said, chewing on one end like it was straw and she was a hick. "Whatever has gotten into me?"

“Mom, everyone knows you guys were smoking pot upstairs," Khalil said, just barely bobbing his head to the music that only he could hear.

Leila covered her mouth with her hand. She didn't say anything, but she looked genuinely upset.

  “Whoops," my mother said. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, Beck. Boys, your mother's been taking medicinal marijuana to help with the nausea from her chemo.

Amir didn't look away from the TV when he said, "What about you, Mom? Are you taking pot because of your chemo too?"

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Amir was good at that.

Amir choked out a laugh, and my mother threw a Twizzler at the back of Amir's head. “Smart-ass. I'm offering up moral support to my best friend in the world. There are worse things."

Amir picked the Twizzler up and dusted it off before popping it into his mouth. “So I guess it's okay with you if I smoke up too?"

"When you get breast cancer" my mother told him, exchanging a smile with Leila, her best friend in the world.

"Or when your best friend does," Leila said.

Throughout all of this, Malik wasn't saying anything. He just kept looking at Leila and then back at the TV, like he was worried she would vanish into thin air while his back was turned.