Page 20 of Sapphire Spring

Because he was here.

And suddenly Naser was sixteen years old again.

Eleven Years Ago

The day he was due to presenthis model of Persepolis to Ms. Guidroz’s history class, Naser’s mother insistedon driving him to school. She claimed it was because her SUV had a bigger cargobay than theCamryhe’d inherited from Pari beforeshe’d gone off to design school, and she was right. But Naser figured adifferent, less charitable agenda lay just beneath the surface of her offer ofassistance.

She didn’t trust him to present Persian culture withouther firm guidance, and if he didn’t watch it, she’d try to escort him to classwhere she’d loudly correct any historical errors in his presentation from theback of the room. That would be the most embarrassing thing ever. And given howbadly high school had gone so far, that was saying something.

“You are sure you don’t want me to walk with you toclass.” Like so many of his mother’s supposed questions, it was hard to hearthe question mark at the end.

Ever since his father had died, she’d kept her hairshort. Her father had loved her hair long and thick and black. Her refusal togrow it out again was a testament to her grief. If her husband was not aroundto enjoy her lustrous locks, then no one would, not even her.

“I’m fine, Maman.”

But he wasn’t fine. Ever since he’d completed the firstminiature lamassu, he’d dreaded this moment, knowing that getting the modelsafely to class would be harder than any aspect of building it. He couldalready hear the shouts of his tormentors, as if they were ghosting through theGoogoosh song his mother was playing on the radio.

Chadwick, Tim, and Mason had doubled their aggressionthese past few months. After he’d transferred sophomore year, they’d forced himinto the occasional locker, but it was always quick and efficient—mostly gayslurs coughed under their breath whenever he tried to answer a question inclass. Junior year they’d moved on to harder shoves and shoulder knocks. Thelocker stuffings had become more aggressive, with some half-assed attempts byChadwick Brody to jam the door shut from outside. Like the Laguna Mesa GoldenBoys felt the need to prove their manliness as they neared manhood, and Naser’ssanity had become their proving grounds. In response, he’d started jumping afence at the back of campus so he could avoid a morning walk through thecentral courtyard. But no way could he employ that strategy with a delicatemodel in his arms.

He’d debated giving the project less than half his usualeffort, just so he wouldn’t have to bring something he was proud of somewhereit wouldn’t be safe.

Laguna Mesa High was not a place Naser Kazemi broughtthings he didn’t want broken. But even though he wasn’t the bravest kid intown, the idea offended him.

Persepolis, he’d decided, was worth the risk.

The school’s parking lot came into view. His heartstarted to race.

“Maman, turn off Googoosh.”

His mother’s typical sound of frustration resembled a bird-likecaw. “This is not Googoosh. This is Ramesh. You need to know your Persianmusic. That’s why I play it.”

“Not near school. You promised. You picked the one highschool in Orange County that has, like, no Persian kids. It’s all whitesupremacists and Koreans.”

Naser felt instantly guilty when his mother’s face fell.“Be friends with the Koreans then.”

“I am.”

There was a sad silence. “It is close to my work, Naser-joon.”

“I know, Maman. I’m sorry.”

And moving closer to work had been a priority after hisfather had died and she’d assumed responsibility for getting Naser to schoolbefore he was of driving age.

As she turned into the school’s front parking lot, hismother lowered the volume slightly.

Eyes to the pavement, Naser stepped from the SUV. He heardhis mother unlock the cargo door.

“Naser.”

Startled, he turned to her. He was grateful she wasstill behind the wheel. Was it concern he saw in her eyes? The prospect shemight know anything about the bullying twisted his gut into several more painfulknots than had been there the second before.

“You are sure you don’t want my help.”

“I’ve got it, Maman.”

She nodded.

Then he was hoisting the model from the cargo bay.

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