Chapter 43: A Miracle - My Name Is Samim
By Fidan Meikle
Rita, Ayan and Rence visit me after school, and together, we read through all the cards. Miss Brown sits in the corner with her book, smiling at us.
“Everyone want Samim back,” Ayan says.
But I probably won’t be back for long. What’s going to happen to me? Suddenly, I’m really, really scared…
I wish Zayn was here.
Miss Brown’s phone rings, and when she answers it, her eyes widen and she rushes up, searching for the TV remote around my bed. When she finally finds it, she switches on the news channel: our schoolyard filled with students chanting “Safety for Samim!” flashes on the screen.
Hot tears prickle behind my eyes as I see the names of those I promised to remember, those I swore to speak for, staring back at me from the signs held aloft on TV. My sweet sister Fatima; little Abas, with his dreams of being a police officer; his frail sister, Sharbat; Auntie Amina’s grandchildren, who welcomed us as family the moment they met us; dear Darya, the brightest soul I’ve ever known; and, of course, my brother Zayn. A bittersweet ache grabs my chest at the sight of his name held high. Oh, how he would have loved this moment of glory…
My eyes swell as I stare at the screen, listening to the news presenter in a grey suit talk about me on national television.
“Hundreds of school children at Rainford Academy, England, walked out from their classes this week in a peaceful protest against their schoolmate’s asylum claim refusal. An Afghan boy named Samim is currently in hospital after he suffered severe hypothermia while saving another child from drowning. Samim’s asylum claim was recently rejected, resulting in the school children’s outrage. The protest videos of the school children chanting, ‘Safety for Samim!’ and ‘We deserve to be safe!’ have gone viral and been viewed more than a million times. Samim’s solicitor, Nadia Azan, confirmed that she is appealing Samim’s case with the Home Office, calling his asylum rejection ‘cruel and unjust’.”
The news moves on to another story, but we all still stare at the screen in dead silence. My jaw is hanging open; Rita and Rence cup their mouths; Ayan grins and punches the air; and Miss Brown stares at me, her eyes wide.
Rita starts jumping and clapping her hands, Ayan and Rence high-five; and Miss Brown and I continue to gawk at each other.
“Unbelievable,” Miss Brown mutters, and everyone falls silent, looking at her. “You did it. You guys did it.” Her voice is trembling. “You made your voices loud enough for the whole country to hear you. You made the whole nation listen.”
Rita, Ayan and Rence walk to my bedside. They huddle me in a group hug, but I remain still and mute.
Did this really just happen? Did my friends tell my story to the whole country?
* * *
The following day, I finally get released from hospital. Miss Brown drives me home, and I watch giant snowflakes flutter behind the car window.
When we enter the house, Rita and Ayan shout, “Welcome home!”
Skye runs to me, and her little arms clasp me in a hug. I kneel and embrace her, and it feels like hugging my little sister, Fatima, so much so that I take a deep breath, trying to fight back tears.
“Thank you for the drawing,” I tell her. “It’s beautiful, and I’ll take it with me wherever I go next.”
“Please don’t go anywhere. Please stay. I’ll draw you more pictures, and I won’t make you watch Peppa Pig any more, I promise.”
Everyone chuckles, and so do I, but what I really want is to cry.
My friends hug me and pat my back, and I wish I could put a smile mask on, so I don’t have to pretend to be happy any more.
I know they’re glad to see me. I know I’m lucky to be alive. But I am here on borrowed time, and it slips away from me like sand through an hourglass. I try to look like I don’t care that soon I could be alone again. I try to tell myself that Zayn will be back, surely, he will be there for me when that happens. I’m not taking those meds any more, the ones that made me feel drowsy and numb. After I woke up in the hospital, I told Miss Brown how terrible they’d made me feel and we decided I didn’t need them any more. But with this heavy sadness in my chest, I wish I still did. I wish I could just hide in my bedroom and sleep through all of it. It would be easier that way, when the time comes for me to leave.