I stole a glance at the maths teacher, who made a funny sound when she walked because she was lame. In fact sometimes she could only get around with the help of two crutches. They ticked and tocked as though she was using them to measure the passing of time. Haisam, who always knew everything, had told me that she was very unhappy because she’d lost a baby a long time ago. I thought that probably explained why she was now making us do equations. One day I’d asked Haisam if he thought she was still carrying the dead baby in her right leg. He’d given me a funny look, with his mouth wide open, which is always a sign that he’s thinking deeply. Then he’d put his hand on my shoulder.

“Maybe there’s hope for you still, my friend.”

My remark seemed to have made quite an impression on him and from that moment on he took me a bit more seriously. It felt cool to think he saw me as someone to be reckoned with.

I pretended to be writing and tried not to get myself noticed. Luckily, the bell rang.

It was the last lesson and Haisam took his time putting his things away in his locker. I hung around for a bit, but since he didn’t show up I went ahead to his father’s lodge. That day he was wearing his splendid red fez hat, which made him look like a nobleman from the olden days. I was hypnotized by the little golden tassel that hung from a velvet ribbon, fastened to the top of the fez.

I grabbed the opportunity of my Honourable Egyptian’s absence to try and clear up some of the mysteries that were puzzling me.

“Sir,” I asked, “could you please explain to me why you chose an Egyptian name for Haisam – well, he wasn’t called Haisam until you named him that obviously – when you’re Turkish? And also, I’d really like to know why you observe the Sabbath on Friday nights?”

“When do you think we should observe it? On Wednesday mornings? Or on Monday afternoons?”

He smiled and I could see that he was making fun of me.

“What I mean is, the Sabbath isn’t really a Turkish sort of thing, nor Egyptian actually…”

He raised his hand in a slightly limp way that reminded me of Haisam.

“Who knows! Who knows…”

Haisam arrived at last. I asked him to explain the maths to me, because well … equations! We settled down at the back of the lodge so as not to be disturbed.

“What is it you want to know?” he asked.

He seemed very calm.

“Well, I want to know what you’re supposed to do with this gibberish: x – 2(4x + 1) = 4(2 – x) + 2. It’s not that I’ve got anything against maths, but still, really.”

“It’s not very hard. Start by multiplying it out.”