He’d vowed to master the surah. Its terrible beauty, and its power to call to Allah anyone who listens to its recitation, proof of Allah’s glory and compassion. But he’s only now comprehending the immensity of the task ahead. The competition has laid bare his shortcomings. He’s far from catching up with some of the other participants, some only slightly older than him, let alone matching Imam Zia.

It’s beyond midnight when his father’s car pulls into the garage. “You still up, buddy?” Ismail asks, coming in and hanging up his keys.

“I didn’t win anything for my recitation, Abba,” Arshad says, stopping the practice track he’d been listening to on his MP3 player.

“It’s okay, I’m sure you did very well. It’s not about winning.”

Just the consolation Arshad expected. Yes, it’s not all about winning, but surely there’s some value to becoming perfect. Isn’t it every Muslim’s responsibility to learn to recite the Quran correctly, and beautifully, and doesn’t such a recitation hold the power of swaying unbelievers’ minds, guaranteeing him a place in Jannat? Abba knows too few of the rules of tajwid to even be aware when he commits a basic mistake. Last night, Abba hadn’t stopped him a single time, though he’d obviously flubbed many phrases. Ammi would have made him repeat them and helped him practice better. If only she’d been in town. Abba hadn’t even come to watch his first public recitation, only Amina had.

Arshad follows his father upstairs to check on Amina, and then downstairs to the kitchen. Ismail pours a glass of milk for Arshad and orange juice for himself. Son and father stand in the dark in mostly companionable silence, sipping from their glasses. Through the window they can see the deserted street and the lit fronts of their neighbors’ houses, the purple glow of the skies beyond. Everything is peaceful, as though the calm and quiet in their neighborhood extended everywhere.

“Everything went well, Abba?” Arshad asks.

“Masha’Allah, everything went smoothly,” Ismail replies. “We raised more money than we expected. And Imam Zia told me what a big help you were all evening. Your Ammi will be very proud.”

“Nothing bad happened,” Arshad says. But it’s more of a question.

“What bad could happen?” Ismail says. “When there’s Allah to guide and protect us?”