Birthday Ghost

In my country, the heroes aren’t like the American ones. All the heroes in American movies have big muscles, puffy hair, and teeth like those Colgate commercials. Maybe that’s what you need to get the girl in the end. If that’s what a hero looks like, I’m out of luck. It’s hard when you look like me. 

If I couldn’t be a hero, maybe I could be a sidekick. A sidekick would be easy. You don’t have to fight as many bad guys or train so hard. Sure, you don’t get the girl in the end, but I’m OK with that. Girls are icky. Well, Amir says they are. 

I don’t believe Amir sometimes. If girls are so icky, why do the heroes always want them? 

When I told Amir I wanted to be a sidekick, he laughed at me.

“Why would you want to be a sidekick?” he asked.

I told him, “When you don’t beat the bad guy, it’s not your fault; it’s the hero’s fault.”

He laughed again. Amir was always laughing at me.

But that wasn’t the real reason I wanted to be a sidekick. The real reason is no one notices the sidekick; they’re in the background. I like the background. I don’t have to get that look from people — the look like they just bit a lemon.

Tasha’s birthday party was in a week. Mom said Tasha invited me herself; she really wanted me to come.

Amir was always like a rain cloud. “She’s only inviting you because she has to. She invited everyone in the class.”

I think he was mad because she didn’t invite him. 

Maybe Tasha liked me. Maybe she wanted to be my friend. It would be nice to have a friend; Amir isn’t a nice one.

Mom said it was a superhero and princess party, and I had to wear a costume. The boys were going to be superheroes, the girls princesses. 

Mom fanned out some of the apartment’s DVDs in front of me: Spiderman 2, The Incredible Hulk, Ironman, and Batman Returns.

“Do you want to be any of these Masoud?” she said.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to be a superhero. I wanted to be a ghost. 

So Mom took a white bed sheet and cut out two eye holes. She said I looked like a ‘real hero’ and that Dad and my brothers would’ve liked it too. It was nice to stay hidden for a change. Maybe the other kids wouldn’t give me that lemon look. I hated that look.

“There’s no ghost superhero,” Amir said. “You look stupid.”

He didn’t understand. I wasn’t a hero; I was a sidekick. It doesn’t matter who the sidekick is.

Mom said I should think of a name for my hero.

“I’m a sidekick, Mom.”

“What’s your sidekick’s name Masoud?”

Masoud. I wouldn’t pick that name. Everyone else had names like Liam, Oliver, or Henry. I didn’t want to be Masoud. Now I got to be someone different.

It was hard to come up with a name. That week before the party, I thought about it a lot. I thought about it at recess when Amir and I drew chalk pictures on the pavement. We were always drawing chalk pictures on the pavement when the rest of the class laughed and played red rover. I thought about the name at lunch when Amir and I ate mujaddara or sabanekh ou ruz. Everyone else had Lunchables, Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-ups. I would try to trade for the Lunchables, Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-ups, but no one ever wanted mujaddara or sabanekh ou ruz. I thought about the name in bed at night, when the day disappeared. I loved the night, being alone in that bed with no one around. Sometimes Amir was there. Most of the time, I told him to go away.

I couldn’t think of a name for my sidekick, but on the Saturday of the party, Mom helped me dress up; white sheet, eye holes cut out. I was excited for everyone to see my costume and that I wouldn’t get that look.

“You shouldn’t go, Masoud,” Amir said. “They’re all going to laugh at you; you’re not a superhero.”

Amir always said things like that. He wasn’t invited to the party, but I let him come; I needed him there.

Tasha had a big house, much bigger than our box in the sky. Mom called it a townhouse, which I thought was a funny name because we lived in a city, not a town.

When the door to Tasha’s house opened, the talking stopped. Mom, Amir and I stood in the doorway. The people at the party stared at us. There were three circles of people: the parents, the princesses and the superheroes. Mom hugged me and went to join the parents. Amir and I walked over to the superheroes. They were checking out each others’ costumes in the living room.

There was a Captain America, a Wolverine, a Superman, and a Green Lantern. I walked over in my ghost costume, and Devin, the Superman in a red cape, said, “You’re not a superhero.”

I didn’t say anything, just peeped at everyone, eyes behind the eye holes.

“This is a superhero party,” he said again, sticking out the 'S' on his chest. “And you’re not a superhero.”

Amir snickered beside me. I didn’t know what to say.

“This is Captain America,” Devin continued, placing a hand on Michael. “This is Wolverine, and this is Green Lantern.” He pointed to Grayson and then to Johnathan. “Who are you?”

I froze, wishing I was back in bed, alone at night.

Superman reached out and grabbed the bed sheet, examining it, feeling it between his fingers. 

“What superhero are you?” He said again, louder this time.

Amir was laughing now. He was always laughing. Maybe he was right. I shouldn’t have come. 

“Do you talk? What superhero are you?” He was shouting now, fists clenched, eyes narrowed like he was about to shoot laser beams from them.

I looked over at my mom, talking to the parents. I wish I were a superhero who could speak with his mind. Take me home, Mom.

I was about to leave, to go to a corner alone where I belonged, and then I heard the footsteps behind me.

Tasha was walking over, dressed like Jasmine from Aladdin. She wore blue pants that looked like clouds, and her hair was shiny. I liked that movie after that day, Aladdin.

“Incognito,” she said.

I loved that name.

“Never heard of him,” Superman said.

“Everyone knows who Incognito is. He’s only the greatest superhero of all time. Isn’t that right?” she looked at me with big brown eyes.

I nodded, the white sheet bobbing up and down. “Yes,” I said.

The other superheroes giggled when I spoke. I knew I sounded different than everyone, so I tried not to talk too much. Mom said it was an accent and that it would eventually go away.

Tasha smiled at me. She put a hand on my shoulder. It was warm; I could feel her hand through the bed sheet.

I felt a little lighter and Amir wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Well, actually, I’m a sidekick,” I said.

The other superheroes giggled some more. It didn’t bother me as much with Tasha there.

“No one cares about the sidekicks,” Devin said.

“I think it takes a lot of courage to be a sidekick,” Tasha said. “You don’t get the credit; it takes a strong person. You do the right thing, even if you don’t get the spotlight. Sidekicks are better people than heroes.” She turned up her nose at Devin; her hair was so shiny.

Devin squinted his eyes at Tasha. “I think that’s stupid.”

Wolverine snickered behind him.

“I think you’re stupid Devin. And you look dumb in that Superman costume.”

As the other three superheroes laughed like the hyenas in The Lion King, Tasha took my hand and led me away from the group. I liked her hand; it was soft and warm, like a princess’s hand. We went up a set of stairs and found a quiet corner in a bedroom — hers by the looks of the Disney princesses posted on the walls.

“I think you look great,” she said.

“Thank you,” I whispered, looking at the carpet. She didn’t laugh like the others when I spoke. “You look nice too.” I meant it.

“Thanks.” I could see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “Boys are mean. Sorry you have to go through that.”

I nodded behind my bed sheet.

“You know what? I think you have the best costume here. It’s so unique. Everyone just follows everyone else. You’re different, and you made your costume. Everyone else bought theirs.”

“Well, my mom made it.”

She shrugged and put her princess hand on my shoulder again. I raised my eyes from the carpet and looked at her; her brown eyes were smiling. She really looked like Jasmine.

“My mom told me what happened, back in your home country,” she said.

I didn’t say anything.

“I think you’re very brave to go through something like that. You’re pretty amazing.”

I smiled, unsure if she saw it under the sheet; I hoped she did.

We didn’t talk much after that; we just sat there in her room, filling in some coloring books she had brought out. I didn’t even notice Amir was gone. Tasha spent the rest of the afternoon with me while the other superheroes and princesses played pin the tail on the donkey, ate birthday cake, and ran through the sprinklers outside.

I didn’t see Amir much after that. He vanished like a ghost. He stopped coming to school with me, and I didn’t hear him laughing anymore. I’m not sure where he went, but I didn’t care; I didn’t need him anymore.

On the Monday after the party, Tasha sat with me at lunch. She traded her pizza Lunchable for my mujaddara. Her face scrunched when she ate it, but she said it ‘tasted good.’ At recess, my classmates played red rover. She brought me over to play with them. My arm hurt a lot and went purple after, but I didn’t mind; I was glad I didn’t have to draw chalk pictures alone.

I never forgot Tasha, my first friend at school. When she looked at me, she never had that look like she just bit a lemon.

I never told her about the bomb that day. The day I lost my dad and brothers, the day that bomb wrecked half my face. I didn’t have to. Somehow she knew, and even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Some people are like that. That’s what I learned. Heroes don’t always come in capes and costumes; they don’t always save the world. They can be someone who makes you feel OK when the world says you don’t belong.

I didn’t mind being a sidekick to someone like that. It wasn’t so bad. And besides, sometimes the sidekick gets the girl in the end.