Meli shook her head. "He doesn't speak English ... well, not yet. He's studying."
"I'll ask him!" Isuf said.
"No," said the coach, giving Isuf a pat on the head, "I think we'd better leave it up to Meli to ask."
Isuf, however, couldn't contain his excitement. As soon as they got in the door, he went running to Mama. "Guess what!" he cried. "Guess what!"
"I'm not so good at guessing." Mama was cooking supper. She stuck the tip of her finger in the dish, licked it, and sighed. "Never the right ingredients here. It doesn't taste right, whatever I do."
"Your food i
s always good, Mama," Meli said. "What do you want me to do to help?"
"Tell her, Meli. Tell her what the teacher said."
Now Mama was paying attention. "What did the teacher say? Is something wrong?"
"No. It's fine."
"Go on, Meli. Tell her!"
"Tell me what?" Mama asked.
"The teacher, the coach—her name is Mrs. Rogers— well..."
Now Mama had both hands on her hips. "Yes?"
"She wants me to ask Baba if I can join the soccer team." Mama shook her head. "He won't have you playing a boys' game."
"They have two teams, Mama. One is all boys—that's Mehmet's team—and the other is only for girls."
"They don't play together?"
"No, Mama, it's entirely separate."
"Oh. I never heard of this. Just in America, huh?"
"No. I've seen it on television. Girls play in a lot of countries."
"Is that so?"
"But if you think it is better not to ask Baba..."
Mama went back to her cooking. "He has so many worries right now. He works so hard and has so little money. Granny is so frail. We don't know if she lives or dies."
"I won't ask, Mama. It's all right."
"But Mama, the teacher told her to ask Baba. She has to ask Baba," Isuf said.
"Did the teacher tell you to ask?"
"It's all right, Mama. I don't even know how to play. I've only just watched the boys."
Mama left the stove and came to Meli. She took Meli's face in both her hands. They were rough and warm. "Is this something you would like to do, my dear one?"
"Yes, Mama."
"Then we will ask your baba."