JAMILA
Earth date: May 1, 2080
Baghdad Colony, Tharsis, Mars
The green wasp drifted past the big eight on her birthday cake and floated onto the table. Its tongue reached out to slurp a blob of frosting.
Jamila watched its every move. When it flew away from the cake and landed on the table, she slowly wrapped a dust rag around her palm. Then, very gradually, she raised her hand over the bug. Going from slow to incredibly fast, she slammed her fist down. Its bony body crackled under her grip. She proudly inspected the crushed corpse.
Now she didn't have to worry about being stung and the wasp was in The Wild. Win-win. Almost.
If Grandma found the wasp's body, she'd be mad. Which was very silly. Grandma had been stung by greenies so many times, she was allergic to them. One more sting could put her into something called "shock". But she told Jamila never to kill green wasps because "they give us honey."
Jamila tried to tell her that green wasps were not bees. They came from the ground, not from the hive. They were just pretending to be bees. She even showed her a greenie eating a bee. But Grandma still said, "Killing them is wrong."
"Death isn't bad." Jamila said, "I’m not afraid of it."
Grandma got upset. "You should be afraid.” she insisted. “Fear keeps you safe."
Jamila didn't have many fears but saying that would upset Grandma more. This gave her something new to think about. Shoulds vs. shouldn'ts. Grandma talked about shoulds and shouldn'ts as if they were written laws, but Jamila had observed that they were more like suggestions. And they changed with each person. Talking about death with Grandma was a shouldn't. Talking about it with Doc Joe it was a should.
Headscarf shoulds were also flexible. In kindergarten, she had to wear a headscarf. But when Grandpa started making good money, they moved from the refugee center to a nice neighborhood. Her new Montessori school had no headscarf rule, which turned it from a hard to a soft should. She chose to let the wind blow through her hair.
Birthday parties were flexible too. When she was young, no one could afford to celebrate birthdays, and they were declared to be haram (hard shouldn't). Now she could have a party. She could even invite non-Muslim friends from school, like the African Christians who danced in church. When she was little, music was haram too, but not anymore. Even at home, the tuner came out, the Gizmos lit up, and she could feel the songs in her bones.
There were also shoulds and shouldn'ts that only applied to her because she was weird. Doc Joe didn't like it when she told him she liked to kill the chickens she ate. Her teacher didn’t like that either. She made Jamila stay after school for a 'special talk' (all shouldn'ts).
It was ok for lions and tigers kill the things they ate. If they didn’t enjoy doing that, they would starve to death. Why was she different?
Being afraid of death was another hard 'should', but death wasn't scary. When her friends told ghost stories, she would laugh because they were silly. Her friends got angry when she wasn't afraid. Was fear the reason behind shoulds and shouldn'ts?
"You look so pretty!" Mr. Hassan said.
She was annoyed by the interruption, but she curtsied and said, "Thank you Mr. Hassan." Being nice to Grandpa's boss was another should. Everyone called him "The Big Man" even though he was shorter than Grandpa. He did have the biggest smell, though. He wore more perfume than Mama and the Aunties put together.
Grandma had invited Doc Joe to the party. Jamila hoped he would come, but Grandma said he was always busy. Maybe that was why he looked so tired. When he told jokes, his face was half-sad, like he didn't have enough energy for a whole smile.
"Jamila!" Mama cried "You're the hostess. Talk to your guests."
She walked over to Grandpa and Hassan. They were watching the actors on the stage as they tried to balance big, wobbly masks of Miz Antelope and Mr. Crow, the cartoon heroes who saved Mars from aliens every Saturday morning.
Grandpa cupped his hand in front of his face, bouncing his Gizmo signal off his palm to take a picture of himself. "Remember clamshell phones?" Grandpa said and Hassan laughed. "And WhatsApp?"
Then Hassan got a serious look on his face. They started talking about shipments. Jamila liked shipment talks because she learned interesting new words. (Repeating those words was a definite shouldn't). They were talking about a Prince. And a Temple. Hassan poured grappa into his and Grandpa's juice glasses and mentioned Edison. The inventor?
As far as she could tell, the Prince and the Temple were fighting over who got Thomas Edison.
"Jamila, come here. It's almost time to open your gifts." Grandma said.
Half the Colony was at the party now, including Amir, her newest friend. He was already strutting around and acting like it was his party, not hers. She wasn't sure about him as a friend yet – he was sometimes too loud and sometimes too quiet. But he was never boring. "Can we open your presents?" he said.
"No. Grandma says wait until after the show. If I want a bigger birthday party next year, I need to follow the rules."
Amir agreed, which was good. Hassan took a phone call and left, which was even better.
"Let's see how they're doing the tricks." Amir said. He snuck behind the stage and pointed, giggling, at Miz Antelope. Jamila had noticed that Miz A. swung her arms funny and had bulges in the wrong places. Then, Miz Antelope took off her giant head. She was a he.
The other actors made kissy sounds at Miz Antelope, then laughed so hard they started crying. Miz Antelope put the mask back on and picked up a toy gun, like she did in the show. Jamila didn't bother to watch. She was already bored.
Some balloons popped and then there was a loud thump. Was Amir stepping on her balloons?
People were running away from the stage. She supposed that she should run too, but for some reason, the world was slowing down. It was turning into a cartoon she'd seen before, played in slow motion. She knew two more loud pops were coming. The two pops came. Next, Amir's mom's scarf would fall to the ground. It fell, brightly fluttering.
Other cartoons started playing in her head – old ones, old as the stars. In one, she was a creature with arms of stone. In another, she was a cloud that burned like fire.
She was in the Wild, floating on the eternal buzz of lives lived and lost. Then she was back at the party, back to being herself. Even after that short trip, her girl-body felt strange and heavy.
The Miz Antelope man came towards her, smoking gun held high. Her grandfather ran towards him, his face twisted with rage, shooting his gun. But Grandpa also stood behind her. His hands were warm on her shoulders. "You know how this ends." he said.
"Yes." she said. "But why did I just remember it now?"