Love from a to Z

party invite just for you?”
“I thought you said you like to go out at night? It’s absolutely not just for
me. The other teachers are bringing their families,” Auntie Nandy said.
“Oh, it’s a school thing?” I frowned. Now I really didn’t want to go. I
was done with school.
But I guess that’s what I got for spending my suspension week with an
international schoolteacher. And Auntie Nandy had taken me in, instead of

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letting me stew at home, which meant I had to act grateful to her. She was
watching car racing and hadn’t seen my frown, so I undid it quickly.
“Don’t worry; it’ll be a nice party.” She turned to me. “Lots of kids your
age.”
• • •
This Is What You Missed, Bulletin I by Kavi Srinivasan, filed as FYI for Zayneb Malik:
Fencer talked to the class about rage and how much of a destructive emotion it is.
And how rage is the root of a lot of world problems, namely terrorism and genocide, and how he
wanted to apologize to everyone for how rage had disrupted the class yesterday.
I tapped my laptop keyboard furiously: 
So I’m terrorism and genocide?
I’m not done.
Noemi, blond-bangs girl on the lacrosse team, put her hand up and asked if, in Fencer’s
estimation, rage is ever justified.
He said in an ideal world no, but he recognizes we are not ideal, and so we get enraged over so
many things.
What about rage at being victimized? Noemi asked.
He said sometimes victimization is in our heads, a perception problem.
(I’m pretty sure I heard a small group of people gasp at this.)
Noemi then said that she’s studying sexual assault for her art project and how that’s NOT a
perception problem.
He said OF COURSE NOT. I’M TALKING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED IN CLASS
YESTERDAY WITH A STUDENT WHO FELT IT WAS WITHIN HER RIGHT TO THREATEN A
TEACHER BECAUSE SHE WAS ENRAGED AT HEARING FACTS.
He actually raised his voice to say that. Then the bell rang, and Noemi said “asshole” under her
breath as she was leaving.
So, again, I’m terrorism and genocide?
And also enraged at facts. Don’t forget that part.
You know what? I’m going to a party tonight. It’s a boring party, but it’s a party nonetheless. I’m
going to forget demon Fencer.
And, in a nod to my previous botched cutlery-drawing attempt, I added a
long train of knife and fork emojis to finish off our communication.
• • •
For the boring party, I wore one of the nicer things I’d brought: a beige shirt
with flared sleeves. I wore it with jeans and a dark blue chiffon hijab, and
Auntie Nandy, in jeans herself and a tunic top, said I looked great.
She slipped a shawl around her shoulders before we left the apartment.
She wasn’t Muslim, but maybe having lived in Arabian Gulf countries for
so long, she was used to scarves.
“Each year, the week before spring break starts, the head of the school,
David, hosts a get-together at his house. It’s like a thank you, you’ve made it

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this far party.” As Auntie Nandy drove, she went on describing the people
who’d be there and how much she liked this school compared to the other
international schools she’d taught at, but I was drifting in and out of her
words.
I was looking at Doha at night.
It was a strange mix of unbelievably glamorous, futuristic architecture
and industrial concrete boxes, aka apartments. And, being a city in a
predominantly Muslim country, the whole landscape was also dotted with
the spires and domes of traditional-looking mosques.
It was like the old and the new and the future joined together in a small
explosion, because there was also construction debris here and there that
contrasted with the glitzy look of some of the neighborhoods.
I peered more and noticed there was a lot of construction happening.
Within a kilometer of Auntie Nandy’s apartment, I counted ten cranes.
Maybe I was kind of a weird person, because I liked the old-looking stuff
more than the new. There was something inviting and even comforting
about the round domes we passed by.
Maybe I was done with dealing with coldness.
Cold people in particular.
I wanted to be surrounded by warmth.
I lowered the window and let the warm air touch my face. Then I leaned
back, closed my eyes, and listened to Auntie Nandy singing along to a song
asking if I’ve ever seen the rain.