Strings - Capstone Amal Al Shamsi (1)

Really
Hamza had a mixed relationship with the way he spoke. The New Yorkers slurred as if
their tongue had been sliced at its root, or perhaps it grew too long for them to control it. He had
to ask the school principal three times what he was saying. The man was sitting right in front of
him, in the shabby office where the corners of his placard were lined with rusty edges. Even the
most ambitious real estate agents could not convince any hip couple that the exposed brick had
that ‘rustic, lived-in feel’. It was way past that stage, slathered many times in paint to try and
disguise the strange jutting of the wall.
“Forget about it,” the principal said. His eyebrows knitted together.
The principal moved a hand to pull his dress shirt away from his body. It looked more
like a women’s blouse, maybe he and his wife were the same size. An equivocal relationship.
Hamza nodded. “Forgotten.”
The man before him readjusted himself on the cracked leather chair. He was sitting in a
way that made Hamza think of sitting at home when guests arrived and they had to hide the oily
ketchup stain on the arm of the couch. “Let me remind you again, sir, that we are glad to have
you onboard,” the man said, “It takes a lot to make things run smoothly around here.”
Coming out of Hamza, every word had weight, enunciated and followed through to the
last breath. “Of course.”
“I recognize that our compensation likely doesn’t exactly match up to your expectations,”
the principal began.
“Oh. No. I told you before, Chuck. Don’t worry about it,” Hamza interrupted him,
holding his hands up.
“All right. Well, uh, legally speaking, you are only registered as a standby substitute, so if
we think of it that way then the salary aptly fits the job,” the man told him. ​I am not responsible
for you walking in whenever you feel like, ​he seems to say without saying it.
“It is no matter, trust me.”
“Well, all right. As long as we are on the same page then.” Chuck, the principal, seemed
relieved, his shoulders slowly sloped back down. “Another thing. If you find it fitting, uh, do you
think you can guide the students with history as well?”
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