Read Online When Michael Met Mina by Randa Abdel-Fattah - Free Book Online Page B

enough I can just make out a nose or mouth, but the image is always blurred.

Michael
    Nathan’s sprawled on my bed, playing on his iPad and telling me about his latest Minecraft creation while I do my homework. After an hour, Dad knocks on my door.
    â€˜Hey, Michael, are you busy?’ He hovers in my doorway.
    â€˜You’re home early.’
    â€˜I have the AGM tonight. Any chance you can come along? Take the minutes?’
    â€˜What’s in it for me?’
    He cocks his head to the side. ‘Thai food and doughnuts?’
    â€˜Sold!’
    â€˜You come cheap,’ he says with a laugh.
    â€˜I want jam doughnuts,’ Nathan calls out.
    â€˜Already ordered them,’ Dad says.
    â€˜Hey, did you dye your hair?’ I take a closer look at him.
    â€˜Yes. I’ve got a public persona now. Media can be brutal. Everything counts.’ He raises his hand to his head, self-conscious. ‘Too dark?’
    I try not to laugh at him but he’s grinning at me anyway.
    *
    The AGM is at the local RSL. I recognise some familiar faces, people my parents are particularly close to.
    There’s Li Chee, born in China, migrated to Australia in the late sixties. Totally against increased migration and boat people. Dad tells me that Li has been useful for spreading the organisation’s message in the local Chinese newspapers. Margaret and Jeremy Thompson live on the Central Coast, and knew my grandfather there. Jeremy’s retired now, and they spend a lot of their time volunteering in community clubs. There’s Kahn Chatha, born in India. He worked in Saudi Arabia for two years before immigrating to Australia and therefore has street cred and assumes the role of resident expert on all things Islam. Carolina and Andrew Jameson have known Dad the longest. Andrew and Dad went to uni together and boarded in the same college. Carolina is a librarian at one of the top boys’ private schools in North Sydney. Andrew works as the manager of the IT support team at a big city marketing firm. He’s big on conspiracy theories, and probably the most hardcore of Dad’s friends. He also has a disturbingly enormous black birthmark on his right cheek, with one protruding long hair. Encounters are fraught with where-do-I-look anxiety.
    â€˜So, you’re Alan’s son?’ a guy called Laurie asks me as I sit at a desk waiting for the meeting to start.
    â€˜Yep. That would be me. The firstborn.’
    â€˜Pleasure to meet you.’ He shakes my hand enthusiastically. ‘Here, let me give you my card. It’s got the website for my blog on it. Read my latest post. It’s all about how Obama’s a Muslim and really the love child of Malcolm X.’
    â€˜Um. Okay.’
    â€˜I’m currently working on a piece on the Muslim boy in One Direction. He was sending subliminal conversion messages to young girls whenever he tweeted. Had to quit before he got caught out.’
    I stare at him, wondering if he’s pulling my leg. The look on his face tells me he’s dead serious. I make up a story, excuse myself, and track down Mum.
    â€˜Who is that Laurie guy? He’s nuts!’
    Mum half-smiles. ‘He’s more on the fringe. You’ll come across people like that. But we don’t want to turn anybody away. It’s a free country.’
    â€˜One Direction as a sharia plot? That’s pretty funny.’
    She smiles. ‘He’s not ideal, I know. But, well, it takes all sorts to spread our message.’
    We’re interrupted with an announcement that the meeting is about to start. There are about sixty people here. Dad’s fan base has increased.
    Dad’s on fire tonight. The audience cheers him on when he speaks about potential terrorists hiding among boat people. They clap when he warns about the Islamisation of Australia with halal food labels on jars of Vegemite. He talks about how the economy can’t sustain further immigration. He