Read an Excerpt
Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
Mama has broken my world. She sits innocently to my right, in the window seat. I can’t believe we’re on a one-way flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Goodbye, Sydney beaches, delicious lamb kebabs, and dry summer heat. Hello, KL traffic jams, suffocating humidity, and vicious mosquitoes.
“I wish we didn’t have to move,” I grumble, frowning at Mama. Her tired face softens in sympathy. We’re moving away from all my comfort zones into the most uncomfortable place ever.
She squeezes my hand. “Change is hard, even when it’s good.” She gives me a wistful smile. “Nenek will be so happy to have us living with her, instead of just visiting.” I try to smile back but fail.
I did this. I was too honest. Again. I was the one who noticed the bruise on the side of Nenek’s face during our weekly video call two months ago. I was the one who told Mama. Mama grilled Nenek until she finally confessed about losing her balance and falling down the stairs. That was when we both knew everything would change.
I sigh. “I know, Mama. It’ll be good to be with Nenek.” Even though Nenek’s rich enough to hire a full-time maid to live with her, she wants us. My fierce grandmother wants her family. Worry tugs at me. My grandma isn’t invincible anymore. But I can look after her now and make sure she’s okay. Maybe if I focus on that, I’ll feel better.
Sadness weighs down my resolve. I already miss the bright yellow kitchen where Mama taught me how to make pancakes and the small balcony where Nenek showed me how to grow mint, chilies, and basil.
I’m leaving my whole life behind. My favorite cafe in Auburn where I had Special Saturday Turkish breakfast with Mama. My cozy bedroom, with its teal walls, fairy lights, and reading nook. My… well, not exactly best friends. They were girls who were friendly with me in primary school, but never as warm as they were with each other. I was always somehow out of step with everyone, except for Mama.
She worked so hard to piece together a life in Sydney that I could predict. Accommodations at school, a weekly routine I could count on, and my favorite safe foods every day, especially when I had a tricky time at school. Now, everything we own is packed in color-coded boxes, deep in the cargo underbelly of this plane.
“It isn’t fair,” I grumble. “Why can’t Nenek move to Sydney instead?”
Mama sighs and looks out the plane window. “Grandparents like Nenek don’t do well when you uproot them.”
“Neither do I!” Great. I’m like a grandmother.
Mama’s smile looks strained around the edges, like one of her watercolor paintings left out too long in the sun. “I’m not thrilled either, Syirah. But we’ll get through this together.”
Moving to Malaysia was not The Plan. Starting school in Malaysia was definitely not The Plan. The Plan was to just stay in Sydney with Mama. Sydney is home. Malaysia is only for summer visits—not to live permanently!
The plane gives another lurch and my anxiety kicks up a notch. The pilot makes an announcement about turbulence. This cannot be good. The surprisingly delicious airplane version of nasi lemak somersaults in my heaving stomach, and I cover my mouth. Tasty rice cooked in coconut milk with a side of hard-boiled egg, fried anchovies, and chili paste is one of my favorite dishes. It would be a total waste to throw it up.
“Sayang, are you feeling okay? Do you need the vomit bag?” Mama looks at me, her hand reaching for the blue paper bag. Even though I’m already twelve, she still calls me “sweetheart” in Malay.
I shake my head frantically. Deep breathing time, like how Mama taught me. Cool ocean waters. Cute kittens. Puppy dogs with huge dopey eyes. My racing heart slows.
“Is this a bad sign?” I ask Mama once I can talk again. She gives me a reassuring smile. I’ve been asking her about signs for years now, and her answer is still the same.
“Don’t worry. It’ll all work itself out, Syirah.” Then she surprises me. “But there is something I do need to warn you about.” Mama shifts uncomfortably in her seat, tucking a stray strand of black hair back into her pink floral hijab.
I give her a nervous laugh. “You know how much I hate surprises. And planes.”
Mama bites her lower lip. She isn’t as bubbly and energetic as she normally is. Even though she’s wearing her on-brand pink long-sleeved blouse and beige dress pants, she seems different. Sad. Tired. I’m wearing my travel gear—black cargo pants, long white tunic top, and my most comfortable teal cotton hijab. Comfort comes first.
She shakes her head. “You know, it’s okay. I can talk to you about this once we land. Once we’re settled in Nenek’s house.”
I lean closer, intrigued. “Mama, now you have to tell me, even if it’s… alarming.”
Mama rubs her temples. “Malaysia is… different. Mental illness is taboo, for starters. Anxiety, depression… we have the whole spectrum in our family history. It’s okay to be just as you are, okay? Anxiety and all.”
“Is that all?” I check, because the crease between Mama’s eyebrows is still there.
Her voice lowers to a hesitant whisper. “Also… there are jungles in Malaysia, and where there are jungles, there are spirits.” She adds in an irritated grumble, “It doesn’t help that Nenek’s house is literally built in front of a jungle.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Mama, of course I know there are jungles there. We’ve been visiting forever. But jungle spirits? You mean jinn?” Nenek loved scaring me with jinn stories when Mama wasn’t around to stop her, like when she was baking or doing her freelance graphic design work. I would squeal in fear but kept asking for more.
Mama meets my gaze. “Yes. They’ve been here since long before our ancestors came to this land. They’re still here, living beside us. They marry and have children, just like we do. Some shape-shift and visit humans in animal or human form.” She pauses, then looks away. “We can’t see them. Most of the time. It just feels like they’re a lot more present in Malaysia compared to Sydney.”
I frown. I’ve never felt anything supernatural in any of my visits to Malaysia. Mama’s never talked about jungle spirits to me.
“Uh. If you say so, Mama. I know you hate Nenek talking to me about this.” I chuckle at the memory of Nenek, warmth spreading through me. “Remember when Nenek told me about the college students who went camping deep in the jungle and didn’t ask for permission from the jinn guardians?”
Mama groans and closes her eyes. “You were only eight or nine! I still cannot believe she told you how they vanished, were never seen again, and how the jungle ate them up. And then you screamed so loudly, I thought you fell and hurt yourself!” Mama purses her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t like to talk about jungle spirits, unlike Nenek. Brings back some bad memories.”
“What bad memories?”
She shakes her head, her eyes clouding over. “That’s not important, Syirah. Just stay away from the jungle.” She turns back to her romance novel, ending the conversation. And here I thought all I had to worry about was flight anxiety. Now I’ve got to worry about jungles. I try to drown out both worries with my well-worn copy of The Girl and the Ghost. I learned a long time ago from my Islamic studies teacher, Ustadha Noura, that jinn exist, but I’ve never had to worry about them affecting me. Come to think of it, she did mention that certain places, like the jungles of Southeast Asia, were densely populated by jinn before humans came along. Kingdom of the jinn was the precise term she used. Gulp.
“Have you ever encountered any jinn, Mama?”
Mama closes her eyes. “Nothing good comes from talking about jinn, Syirah.”
Frowning, I turn back to my book. Well, if Mama won’t tell me, I make a mental note to ask Nenek about this.
Eight hours later, the plane lands safely. Thank God. I smile weakly at the elegant flight attendants and adjust my rumpled scarf.
When I was little, flights with Mama to Malaysia were exciting. I used to wave at the flight attendants. I used to call them “airplane aunties.” But then I became old enough to realize that sometimes planes crashed. Then flying got scarier and scarier. But our yearly trips back to Kuala Lumpur to visit my grandparents are worth the anxiety, so that’s why I get on the plane every time. Except this time, everything is different—our visit is permanent, and instead of two smiling grandparents to greet me, there’s only one. Sadness tugs at me. The last time we came to KL was for my datuk’s funeral last year. Malaysia without my grandfather feels… wrong. But my grandmother living all alone in Malaysia feels even worse, so here we are.
When we get off the plane at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, the full force of the Malaysian heat and humidity swallows me whole. Sweat beads on my brow and the back of my neck. Sydney is three hours ahead of Kuala Lumpur, so our Sydney morning flight means we’ve arrived in the blazing heat of the Malaysian afternoon. Time to get used to the heat.
“I can’t believe we’re actually here for good,” I mutter under my breath.
No response from Mama. Normally, my muttering drives her up the wall. “You have a voice! Own it!” she would tell me. But right now, she can’t even hear me. Mama is in Tunnel Vision Mode.
After we get through immigration, we see a familiar uncle with a white shirt, black slacks, and glasses standing at the arrival section with a big sign that says DATIN ZAHRA’S FAMILY. I recognize him—Pak Bakar, Nenek’s driver. He beams and waves at us. Right beside him, in all her scowling glory, is Nenek. She is immaculately dressed in her green satin scarf and matching green-and-white floral silk baju kurung. Nenek has the most elegant knee-length, long-sleeved embroidered top and matching skirt. Mine are always much simpler, and always cotton.
I run up to her, kiss her hand, then give her a tight hug. She groans stiffly, trying to swat me like I’m a pesky mosquito, and not her only grandchild. “Nenek, it’s so good to see you!” I grin, hugging her tighter, inhaling the menthol Tiger Balm and jasmine perfume. I tower above her now and am maxing out my height advantage.
“Okay Syirah, dah, dah,” Nenek says, pushing me away with her small and firm hands. I can hear the smile in her voice. I step aside and Mama solemnly kisses Nenek’s hand. Then Nenek breaks into a huge smile and the tension evaporates from her.
“I knew you’d come back home, Sara.”
Mama moans at the smug triumph in Nenek’s voice. Here we go again. To Mama’s credit, she doesn’t snap back. Instead, she turns to Pak Bakar and says with a very tight smile, “Thank you for helping us with our luggage.”
Pak Bakar very politely takes one of our luggage carts, I push the other, and we make our way to the airport parking lot. Nenek sighs dramatically then fills us in on all the latest happenings with her friends, their children, and their grandchildren.
“How do you keep track of all the goss, Nenek?” I ask her. “That’s like three generations.”
Nenek glares at me. “Goss? This isn’t gossip. I have an excellent memory because I don’t rot my brain with the devil box.”
Mama and I look at each other and burst out laughing. “Devil box!” we say at the same time.
Nenek shakes her head and ignores our giggling, sliding into the front passenger seat.
We get into her black BMW, newly washed and squeaky clean, and I sink gratefully into the leather seat.
“Your car is so fancy, Nenek.”
She snorts. “Study hard, get a good job, and you can get an even fancier one.”
“Ibu!” Mama says. “I don’t want Syirah to focus on material things like a BMW.”
“Ha! What’s wrong with having nice things? Do you want her to ride a bicycle to work?” Nenek retorts.
“I like bicycles. They’re good for the environment, and I get to exercise, too.” Then I grin. “But fancy cars are great too!”
“Happy now, Ibu?”
“It’s good my granddaughter has good taste in luxury cars—”
I slip on my noise-canceling headphones, blocking out the rest of their sentences.
Ah. Peace at last. I stare out the window as Pak Bakar drives. The palm oil plantations and gigantic signboards near Kuala Lumpur International Airport are soon replaced by high-rise buildings and enormous malls. This looks nothing like my neighborhood. Auburn had more spread-out houses with huge yards and much smaller apartment buildings.
The combination of flight stress, soothing air-conditioning, and calming music on the ride back lulls me to sleep. By the time I wake up, we’re passing by the jungle near Nenek’s house. The tall, dense trees sway in the night breeze. I roll my window down, smiling at the coolness of the air. I love how green it is here, and how there are small patches of jungle reserves next to housing areas in such a large city. We stop at a traffic light and I inhale the fresh, earthy scent of the trees and soil.
That’s when I smell something else. Fire. Iron.
Blood.
Something ripples in the jungle. A shadow peels itself away from the darkening foliage. Glinting red eyes blink open. Terror skitters through me.
“Mama—did you see that?” I gasp, recoiling from the car window, instantly regretting winding it down to begin with.
Mama frowns at the fear in my voice. “See what?”
I rub my eyes, peering outside. Whatever that was, it’s gone now.
“Um. Nothing.” My heart pounds in my throat.
Nenek chortles darkly. “See something in the jungle, Syirah? Not like in Sydney, eh?”
“I—I think I did.”
Nenek’s response is swift. “Don’t look so hard next time. And don’t be afraid.”
