Guantanamo Boy Read Free Page A

his cousin’s ideas and plans, whether he understands them or not.
    “I haven’t decided what to call it yet,” Tariq begins, “but I think six characters placed in different countries would be the best. Then we can have multiple players online at the same time dissing each other. What do you think?”
    “Yeah, six would be brilliant,” Khalid types quickly. “It’s gotta have a real cool name, though!!!!”
    Khalid doesn’t notice time passing as he reads about the complexity required to implement the programming language. Plus the goals, rules, mathematical framework Tariq’s been working on to put the game together make it sound as if his invention is going to be even better than Counter Strike . Khalid loves Counter Strike , a war-based shooting game that he plays at Nico’s place on his console. One team are the terrorists and the other are the Special Forces who have to sneak in and defuse the bomb. Tariq and Khalid both love playing Grand Theft Auto too, getting an adrenaline rush from blowing stuff up and stealing cars. Starcraft , the online strategy game set in space, is their favorite at the moment, but they chat about loads of other games while Tariq finishes off his own invention, which doesn’t have a name yet. It’s going to be basic, but it’s much more fun knowing that it’s their own private game.
    These e-mails make Khalid feel so much better that he forgets about giving Dad the letter from school. Then the door opens and Mum silently crosses the kitchen to pluck something from the fruit bowl.
    “It’s half past seven. Get off the computer, Khalid!”
    It’s always the same. There’s never enough time to talk to Tariq. Reluctantly, Khalid quickly types, “Later, cuz!” and then closes the computer down.
    “Nations around the world are strengthening their anti-terrorism laws. Pakistan is providing America with more military bases and airports to use for its attack on the Taliban,” the newsreader states from the TV in the living room.
    “Haven’t you got any homework to do?” Mum sighs.
    “I can’t work with the TV on in there,” Khalid says.
    “Oh, that’s a good one.” Mum refuses to be taken in by his excuse for a moment, then gives him an only-kidding smile before heading back to the living room and shutting the door behind her.
    Dragging his school bag to the table, Khalid is soon absorbed in Galileo.
    Galileo, the genius who knew everything about astronomy and mathematics. He even managed to improve the telescope. Khalid sits back and folds his arms. How did Galileo know the telescope needed improving? Thinking about this makes his mind go fuzzy. There’s so much to take in and most of it Khalid has to read twice before it makes any sense at all. One thing Khalid’s sure of, though, is that Galileo is way cool. Everyone throughout history knew that. He even took on the Catholic Church.
    “We’re all part of this misery.” Dad pops his head round the door to get a glass of water. Khalid doesn’t know what he means or what he’s talking about. Nor does he ask. But he thinks about it for a moment. That’s Dad all over. He says things you can’t pin down, which is a major part of the problem between them. How exactly is Dad going to react when he hands him the letter? He just doesn’t know.
    The thought flashes through Khalid’s mind that his friends, if they were here, might think Dad was a bit weird saying something like that out of the blue. But then his family aren’t what people suppose they are. Mum has never worn the veil and neither did her mother in Turkey, where she was brought up. Maybe Dad was referring to the fact there has been more hostility in the neighborhood lately towards Muslims. Though Khalid hasn’t been called any names, or been punched or anything, a couple of the Muslim guys at school said they felt totally unsafe being out at night now, while before 9/11 they had felt fine.
    OK, they sometimes say Friday prayers and usually eat halal