Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,37
and shrugged. She could see the earring again, and he looked kind of cute with it. The thought occurred to her that there must be a ton of Bolivian girls in love with this guy, and it almost made her laugh.
“Didn’t your parents want you to be a stock broker? Or something,” she asked him, totally changing the subject.
Noah blinked, then settled back slowly into his chair. “Yeah, something like that. They made me study international business. And they are not too happy with me right now, as I’m sure I told you before. Maybe if I wore a tie to work it would help. ”
They both snorted, then burst into laughter, tears leaking out of their eyes as they looked at themselves. Noah in the cut-off shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt with giant Hawaiian flower flip-flops. Wara was wearing frayed jeans and yet another hippy shirt, this one a pumpkin orange with purple tie-dyed rings and little brass bells hanging from the sleeves.
Yeah, maybe Noah should start wearing a pinstripe silk tie with that outfit, when he went to play with the kids at the Martirs’ AIDS center and give them their medicine. Or when he sang here at the café. Tobin and Tobias could get one too.
They both laughed and swiped tears from their eyes until Nazaret came to get Wara for their class.
12
hazel
A HARD WHISPER JERKED HER AWAKE, cutting violently through the darkness. The memory of where she was crushed her. She and Noah weren’t laughing in the café together. They had been in a bus accident, and she didn’t know where Noah was.
She was here in a tent somewhere, captured by some really dangerous guys.
Wara froze on the sleeping bag, praying that if they thought she was still asleep, they’d leave her alone. The guy who’d kidnapped her, Paulo, had woken her up a few times in the night, just to make sure she was still alive.
Before they killed her.
“Hey!” The insistent whisper came again. “Time for prayers, che.” Wara cracked her eyes open in the direction of the tent door and saw a thin, pale face with a little goatee leaning inside, calling Paulo. Nylon fabric rustled as Paulo staggered up off the floor, shivered, then pulled a second black sweater over his head.
“Ya voy,” he whispered, and the light-skinned man disappeared, leaving the tent flap hanging open. “I’m coming.” Paulo turned his morbidly serious gaze on Wara and she tensed and did her best to appear fast asleep. She slit her eyes open as she heard him padding towards the door, saw that he was leaving in khaki cargo pants and bare feet. After a minute, she slipped from the sleeping bag and crawled to the door of the tent, where a star-studded sky and crescent moon gave the only light.
Was it almost early morning? Or what were these guys doing up in the middle of the night?
“Time for prayers,” the man who came to get Paulo had said. Wara frowned and bit her lip. Around six men were gathered in the clearing, close enough that she could pick up what they said. Six more men suddenly appeared out of the darkened forest, dripping water from their hair and sleeves. The other six, including Paulo in his black sweater, walked together into the trees and disappeared.
Wara settled in cross-legged, watching the strange scene with bleary eyes. When Paulo’s group came back, also glistening with drops of water in the moonlight, all of the men lined up facing the same direction, now silent, without the excited chatter. Everyone bowed their heads, and then Wara heard the soft rumble of them all chanting together:
Allaahu Akbar
Allaahu Akbar
Ashhadu Allah ilaaha illa-Lah
Ashhadu Allah ilaaha illa-Lah
Ash Hadu anna Muhamadar rasuulullah
Ash Hadu anna Muhamadar rasuulullah
Wara’s pulse surged, knowing what she was listening to. As a linguistics geek, she could definitely recognize Arabic.
God is great.
I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except God.
I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of God.
They’re saying salaat, Wara thought, absolutely stunned. These guys are Muslims.
The men, still standing, all hooked their hands behind their ears, turning their palms forward, and repeated, “Allah Akbar” in a flat monotone. Crossing one hand on top of the other in front of their bellies, they prayed more in Arabic, though Wara only caught a little. The main gist seemed to be glory and praise to Allah, and at the end she heard something about Satan.
She then recognized the opening lines of the first surah or chapter