Nasim didn't talk to any of the girls that week. The teachers were all kind to her and some of them remembered to speak slowly when they were talking to her,
though some, like Mr Brown, shouted. Miss Peters always smiled at her and
repeated things for her, but Mr Bead was the only one who ever sat down by
her when he had set work for the others, and she always shrank away from him.
Occasionally someone shouted out a remark to her, which she didn't under-
stand but which made everyone else laugh; she burned inside with humiliation,
knowing that they must be laughing at her, though she didn't understand why.
Most people ignored her, even when she smiled at them, and this was even
harder for her to understand.
alone, and she found it difficult to recognise even the children from her own class.
the text.
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She spent break and lunchtime in the classroom; if she went outside she stood
She didn't say anything about all this at home. (Her aunt had never been to
an English school, neither had Majad or Uncle Assan. How could they imagine
what it was like for her? And as for little Yasmine, she had always lived here.
She chattered away in English with a broad local accent, and had made dozens
of friends at her little local school.) Nasim kept her puzzlement and her disap-
pointment to herself
, and late at night when the house was quiet and Yasmine
asleep beside her she struggled to keep the thoughts
of home out of her mind.
"I wish I hadn't come here," she whispered into the silence. “I don't belong."
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ученый2222    3   14.02.2021 14:01    1