A Tale of Highly Unusual Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

to Leila that she should start a blog, too. But she would need Nadia to help her set it up. Also, the Awans’ wireless connection was really spotty, so it would have to wait until she got home. Still, she could take notes. Leila took a bite of green stuff. Hot . . . hot . . . superhot! She downed a full glass of water, which didn’t help.
    Title for Blog One: Hot Stuff!
    Every few minutes, Chirragh limped into the room to slam a new dish onto the table. He only had two facial expressions, Leila noticed: Glaring, and Glaring Furiously. However, he glared at everyone equally, which comforted Leila slightly. Nobody in the Awan family seemed to care, or even notice. They barely registeredChirragh’s existence, much less his feelings.
    â€œIt’s hot,” Rabeea said, adjusting the diaphanous blue duputa draped around her shoulders. She fanned herself with her fingers dramatically, making her sleeves flap.
    â€œThe air-conditioning is on,” her aunt, Jamila Tai, said. “Leila, dear, try the gobi.”
    Leila didn’t usually like cauliflower, but this was creamy and only slightly spicy, delicious enough to make Leila consider adding recipes to her blog.
    â€œCan’t we make it cooler?” Rabeea demanded. “It’s always stuffy in here. Aren’t you hot, Leila?”
    â€œI’m fine,” Leila said as a trickle of sweat rolled down her back.
    â€œAre you comfortable, Leila?” Her uncle put down his knife and fork. “I’m sure it’s warmer here than you’re used to. I can ask Chirragh to cool things down.” He looked around for the cook.
    â€œReally, Babar Taya, I’m fine,” Leila assured him.
    â€œ I’m hot!” Wali said. He was seven. Nobody paid him any attention.
    â€œShe just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Rabeea told her mother.
    â€œRabeea.” Jamila Tai’s voice was a warning.
    Leila hoped that sweat wasn’t staining the armpits of her new hot-pink salwar kameez. This afternoon’s shopping trip had been a bit of a bust. First, Rabeea and her mother had taken Leila to a fabric store, insisting that she could have whatever she wanted made. Leila had done tons of research on the Internet and had picked out her favorite styles. But every time she pointed to a fabric and described what she wanted, Rabeea would get this weird, tight little smile and explain, “That’s not really in fashion right now.” And even though she always added, “But you should get it if that’s what you want,” Leila hadn’t come to the other side of the world to look like a dork. So they left that store and went to a place that had ready-made clothes, which culminated in Rabeea and her mother getting into a very polite fight about whether Leila should wear short sleeves.
    â€œIt’s not appropriate.” Jamila Tai frowned at the brilliant blue dress that Rabeea had pulled out.
    â€œShe’s American,” Rabeea had countered. “She can wear what she wants. Besides, all of the girls are wearing sleeveless,” Rabeea said.
    Jamila Tai smiled, and spoke through clenched teeth. “That is absolutely not true.”
    â€œIt is true.” Rabeea’s voice was sweet, but her eyes were narrowed. “What, do you want her to wear hijab , too?”
    That went on for a while. Leila just watched. This was the same kind of argument that her sister often had with her mother about cell phones. Leila knew that it would not pay to get involved.
    She didn’t have the energy to argue, anyway. Here is the thing about Lahore in the summer: it’s hot. And that day, it was hot like you don’t know hot. Even in the air-conditioned store, it was hot. It was the kind of heat that it’s hard to recover from.
    Have you ever stood near an oven door when someone opened it to check on something that was baking in there? Have you ever been hit with a wave of hot air like that?