Chapter 39: What Am I Doing? - My Name Is Samim

I’m struggling with being back at school. I’m tired, sleepy and can’t concentrate on anything. I keep thinking, What’s the point?

Ayan, Rita and Rence hover over me, trying to make me feel better, but I just want to be left alone.

We are sitting at the table in the lunch hall, and Ayan offers me his pack of crisps.

“No, thank you.”

“It’s good. With sweet chilli. I buy last pack.” He stretches it out to me.

“I’m okay. I don’t want it,” I say, and chug water out of my bottle.

“We can’t let this happen.” Rita leans on her elbows over the table. “There must be something we can do.”

I slump back in my chair and turn to the window. We sit in awkward silence for a minute.

Ayan holds out a chocolate bar to me. “It’s good. Eat.”

I know this is his way of trying to be extra nice to me, as he loves food, but I’ve been feeling sick ever since Miss Brown told me about my asylum claim, so I shake my head.

“You can’t give up,” Rita says.

“But what else can I do?”

“We will figure it out.”

“No, you won’t!” I yell, and she jolts back in surprise. “We won’t figure it out because no one cares what I, you or Ayan have to say. I spent two months in the detention centre telling them I was thirteen and everything that happened to me, but they didn’t listen. Then I spent months repeating it all over again, only for them to decide in the end that I’m not worthy of a safe life. We are nobody’s children, Rita, and they won’t hear us even if we scream.”

Rita, Ayan and Rence gape at me.

I can’t stand their pitying stares, so I grab my bag and dart out of the lunch hall.

Outside, the wind blows in my face, sneaks inside my jacket and makes me shudder. I don’t know where to go, but I need to be alone, so I draw my coat tighter, exit the schoolyard and cross the road. A small park is on the other side.

I stroll down the slippery path, leaving footprints in the frost. It’s the first day of spring, but it looks like March is throwing a tantrum, blowing icy winds and freezing the ground solid. There is a small bean-shaped lake to my left, and voices are coming from it. I look over and see a bunch of boys standing, chortling, next to the water. Two of them attempt to walk over the frozen surface, taking timid steps and pushing each other. The tallest one laughs the loudest. I only see his back, but recognise his laugh – it’s Max.

Idiots, I think and look away. I pull the hood over my head and draw my jacket tighter. It’s so cold, so very cold.

As I approach the end of the path, a wide road with traffic lights opens before me. I press the button, and just as the light turns green, a distant scream bursts behind me.

“Help! Help!”

I squeeze my eyes and shake my head. I know where this cry is coming from, and I can guess what happened. But I can’t go back there and get involved: I must stay out of trouble. Surely someone else will help them.

The green light flashes, and the cars on both sides stand still, their engines humming, waiting for me to cross. But I can’t move. Rattled thoughts fight the fog in my head.

What should I do? And what can I do? It’s water, freezing water. I don’t want to go anywhere near freezing water.

The green light vanishes and the cars start whizzing before me.

I don’t want to get involved. I’m terrified of water. But I can’t just stand here, not after everything that’s happened. Darya would have helped him. Zayn would have, too. They lost their lives saving others, saving me, and here I am, frozen. I have to at least try, or I’ll never forgive myself.

Damn this lake! Damn all the lakes and seas in the world!

I wish Zayn was here.

I turn back and run towards the lake, gulping frosty air.

What am I doing? How am I even going to help him?

As I approach, I see Max floundering about in a small dark spot in the middle where the ice has broken. He is trying to grab on to the solid surface, but his hands slip and he gets sucked back under the water.

His friends watch him, holding on to their heads, pacing about, calling for help and ringing people on their mobiles.

I drop my bag and take my shoes and jacket off.

“Hey, loser! What are you doing here?” someone shouts at me, but I ignore them.

Instead, I gently tap the solid edge of the lake with my foot to see how thick it is. It feels sturdy enough, so I lie on my stomach and slide towards Max.

As I reach the broken patch, I stretch my arm out to him. “Grab my hand!”

But he can’t hear me. His lips are purple and his eyes are bulging with shock.

“Max! Listen to me! Grab on to my arm!” I shout louder.

Finally, he sees me. His eyes are enormous as he grabs my arm, pulling me towards the water.

Damn it, he’s heavy!

I take a deep breath and try to haul him out, but the most I can manage is to stop him from dragging me in.

“You’ve got to pull yourself up!” I shout at him, but I can tell by the look on his face and by how weak his movements have become that his body is seizing up from the cold and he has no strength to fight any more.

I take a deep breath and lower myself into the freezing lake. The bitterly cold liquid swallows me up, and my skin burns as if I’ve fallen into fire, not water.

My body remembers this stinging pain, and for a second, I think I’m back in the English Channel on the night Zayn died. The memory of a woman spreading a pomegranate towel over her knees and hugging her daughters flashes before my eyes. I see Zayn ladling the water out of the boat with his shoe and then pulling my deflated life jacket off. I hear the man by the tiller shouting for help on the satellite phone and then a tender voice singing a lullaby.

“Close your eyes, my darling, and sleep.
Today, I rock you to sleep,
Tomorrow, this cradle won’t be yours.”

Snap out of it, Samim! I tell myself.

I flap my arms, trying to make myself sink under Max. Suddenly my feet touch the gooey bottom of the lake – it’s not that deep. It’s slimy but stable. I kick off the sludgy ground, giving Max a push.

I burst out of the water after him, gasping for air. I shake my head, trying to clear my vision, and see half of Max’s body on the ice; he’s dragging his legs up now.

He’s out. It worked.

“Don’t get up!” I shout at him. “Don’t stand up! Just slide on your stomach!”

He looks back at me and nods, his eyes still bulging. He slides along the ice but suddenly stops and turns to me. “What about you?”

As we stare at each other, I realise I don’t know the answer.

What about me?

My body stiffens, making it harder to stay afloat. I take a deep breath and try to grab on to the ice and pull myself out, but I’m as heavy as a boulder and can hardly keep my nose above the water, let alone climb out.

Max is still gaping at me, and I look at him. He turns his wet, quivering body towards me and stretches out his arm. It’s too far away, but I’m still grateful he tries.

3.141592653589793238462643383279…

I wish Zayn was here.

My limbs turn to stone, refusing to move. Green slimy water touches my lips, seeping inside my wheezing mouth, then my nose. Everything around me slows and quietens, and the last thing I see before the water slurps me down is the chalky sky. A bird of prey is circling beneath frothy clouds, and three black crows chase after it.

My head dips under the water, and in the darkness, my mother’s voice hums me a lullaby.

“Don’t you mind the sounds you hear,
Don’t you mind the darkness you see,
I will always be with you, my dear,
Holding your hand while you dream.”