“Nothing to see here, folks!” Samirah took my elbow and led me away quickly. “Frankie is more than happy to play Margaret the Jackal Slayer in this year’s spring festival,” she added and then nudged me in the ribs. Hard.
“Owee,” I winced.
She nudged me again. “What do you say?” she said, glaring at me.
I nodded, against my will. “Sure. Sure,” I told the crowd as Samirah hurried me off to the corner of the room.
“Well, that was weird,” I said, when I was away from it all.
Samirah stood in front of me and shook her head, and soon Faizel was by her side. Also shaking his head.
“What?” I asked them both.
“We take this thing very seriously,” Faizel said. “You can’t refuse a place in this festival. It’s the most important event in this town. We are very proud of this place and this is the way we show it, and now you’re a part of it too.”
“I’m a part of it?” I asked, taken aback.
“Well, you live here now,” Samirah answered.
“I . . . I . . .” It dawned on me. Like it hadn’t dawned on me before. I lived here now. I, Frankie Paulson, was a part of something. Something real. Something that wasn’t on Reddit, or Facebook. The thought suddenly, inexplicably, warmed my heart a little. But still . . .
“You still shouldn’t have volunteered me though without asking,” I said to Samirah.
“Hey, I’m pregnant. I have these hormones and my brain has turned to mush and you know . . . I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”
Faizel nodded. “I can vouch for that.”
I folded my arms across my chest, as something tugged in it. “I . . . I don’t like being in things like this, not since . . .” I paused and Samirah and Faizel looked at me expectantly. I lowered my voice and leaned in. “I had a bad experience in a school play once, okay! It was mortifying. Everyone laughed at me. I can happily film stuff, or do a Facebook live video or IGTV, but this is too . . .real.” I shook my head, feeling those old, horrendous feelings that I hated to feel. Someone had pinned the word “pig” onto my back during the play and the entire audience had laughed, even the teachers and parents.
At that moment, Mark and Harun appeared. My eyes immediately narrowed at Harun who came bouncing up to me as if everything was just peachy. He rubbed his giant head against my leg and I patted him, even though I was trying to be very angry with him. But that stupid wagging tail and big, pink hanging tongue was making it hard.
“He missed you,” Mark said, an air of awkwardness in his voice.
“Well, he shouldn’t have run off with my phone in the middle of the night, now should he.” I bent down and took his huge face between my hands and looked at him. “You bloody naughty beast!” My attempt to scold him just sounded affectionate, which he clearly thought too, because his massive tongue licked the side of my face.
“Noooo!” I pulled back from him and wiped my cheek. “Gross, don’t do that.” I laughed and cringed at the same time. Then I stood back up and looked at the three of them.
“Looks like I’m playing the jackal-fighting pregnant woman in your weird town reenactment,” I said, avoiding eye contact with Mark.
“It’s not as weird as you think it’ll be,” Mark said. “First year I was roped into it I thought I was participating in some cultish ritual.”
“That’s exactly what I think!” I said, and our eyes locked for a moment.
“But it’s actually cool.” He smiled. “You’ll enjoy it. It’s just about the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s cool.”
“It is,” Faizel said. “I’m playing the evil farmer who chased them away from the land.”
I raised my confused brows.
“Legend has it that before they came here, they tried to settle on another piece of land but they were chased away by a farmer who, also affected by the great drought, tried to settle there too.”
“Right,” I said. “You know this is starting to sound like the storyline from a soap opera?”
“Wait until you see everyone in costume,” Mark said.
“Sorry . . . costume? You have to dress up?” I asked.
They all nodded.
