Read on below, andpre-order the bookbefore it hits the shelves next year, on March 19.
Excerpt fromInternment, by Samira Ahmed
I strain to listen for boots on the pavement.
But everywhere, its the same as its always been.
Credit: Erielle Bakkum
In the distance, I see a funnel of smoke rising into the air.
Most of the town is at the book burning, so I should be safe.
Or, at least, safer.
Little, Brown
Its been six months since the Exclusion Laws were passed.
I dont measure time by the old calendar anymore; I dont look at the date.
There is only then and now.
There is only what we once were and what we have become.
Two and half years since the election.
Two years since the Nazis marched on DC.
Eighteen months since the Muslim Ban
One year since our answers on the Census landed us on the Registry.
Nine months since the first book burning.
Six months since the Exclusion Laws.
Three months since they started firing Muslims from public sector jobs.
I thought our little liberal college town would fight it longer, hold out.
Some did fight it.
Theyre still happening, the protests, turned riots, even if the mainstream media wont cover them.
Curfew starts in thirty minutes, and this is a stupid risk.
My parents will absolutely freak out if they find that Im not reading in my room.
But I need to see David.
I cross at the light, waiting for the Walk signal, even if there are no cars.
I spy a flyer for the burning taped around the lamppost at the corner: JOIN YOUR NEIGHBORS.
The words are superimposed on a cascade of banned books, dangerous books.
She stumbles and drops her bag.
Books and flyers fall to the ground.
I bend down to help her pick up her things.
Sorry, I wasnt looking where I was going.
I give a shot to be polite, deferential.
Stay calm, I say to myself.
Its not past curfew yet.
Youre not guilty of anything.
But these days, actual guilt is an after-thought.
For a split second, she looks me in the eye.
I suck in my breath.
Mrs. Brown, IIm sorry my voice fades away.
Mrs. Brown owns The Sweet Spot on Jefferson Street.
She made my favorite birthday cake ever, a green-frosted Tinkerbell confection for my fifth birthday.
She narrows her eyes at me, opens her mouth to speak and then clamps it shut.
She looks down and pushes past me.
She cant even say my name.
Her flyer for the burning somersaults away in the breeze.
I shrink into myself.
Im afraid all the time now.
Davids mother teaches chemistry at the University.
My dad teaches poetry and writing.
Did teach, I should say.
Until he was firedmysteriously deemed unqualified for the tenured professorship hes had for over a decade.
Thats another before; two months since my dad lost his job.
My mind lingers on Mrs. Brown.
And in minutes Ill be in violation of curfew.
Im obviously not going to the burning; I should be home.
The hard pit in my stomach grows.
It didnt really, but they didnt know that because all they heard were screams.
Some resisted at first.
But they all pressed the button eventually, even when the screams got louder.
David is waiting for me at the pool house in his neighbors yard.
Theyre on vacation in Hawaii.
David is taking a risk, too.
Though we both know its not the same for him.
We werent breaking any laws.
But I guess the Principal didnt want to look like he was encouraging relationships between us and them.
We both got suspended.
Apparently PDA is against school rules, but Ive never heard of anyone pulling suspension for it.
My dad nodded, took it in stride.
Why were they so quiet?
Shes almost never quiet.
I left school that afternoon, and my parents were too scared to let me go back.
The door is ajar.
I catch my breath for a second before stepping in.
Layla, he whispers.
A single candle glows from the center of the coffee table.
Without saying a word, I walk into Davids arms and kiss him.
I pretend the world beyond the curtains doesnt exist.
Being in his arms is the only thing that feels real right now.
I pretend that Ill be graduating in a few months and going to college like my friends.
I pretend that David and I will exchange school hoodies.
I pretend that high school relationships last into college.
Most of all, I pretend that this magic hour is the beginning of something and not the end.
We sink to the sofa.
While we kiss, he runs the tips of his fingertips along my collarbone.
A whisper-light touch that makes me shiver.
I nuzzle my face into his neck.
I know his mom still does his laundry.
I brush my cheek against his feeling the odd patch or two of uneven boy-stubble.
We hold each other.
And hold each other.
I rest my chin on Davids chest.
I wish I could stay here forever.
Is there a magic portal that will transport us to some other dimension?
A time lord, maybe?
Shouldve stolen the Tardis when I had the chance.
My dad badgered us into watchingDoctor Who, starting with the old-school episodes, and we got hooked.
Since then weve had on-and-off binge watching sprees.
Despite the sometimes ridiculous production values, the monsters can be terrifying.
Its one of our things.
I give David a small smile.
He could always make me laugh, but humor stabs now.
God, I miss dumb banter.
I miss laughter that doesnt make me feel guilty.
I miss laughter that is simple joy and doesnt leave a pit in my stomach.
Everything about David feels familiar, like this crooked happy-smile hes wearing right now.
Like the comfortable moments we can pass in silence.
Like our ability to just be with each other.
David sat next to me and took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
It felt like waking up to a perfect sunrise.
I reached up and kissed him, my heart pulsing in every cell in my body.
I look into Davids eyes and squeeze his hand.
We both know I have to go, that this evening cant last.
Without a word, we stand up from the couch.
I zip up my hoody.
David wraps his arms around my waist and peppers my face with gentle kisses.
My heart thrums in my ears.
I wish we had more time, David says.
I know he means he wants us to have more time togethertonight.
I cant help but take it as more.
Time has a weight to it now.
And its usually an ominous one.
He knits his eyebrows together, a little confused.
I check my screen and a Wireless Emergency Alert flashes:
One People, One Nation.
Tune in at 9 p.m. for the Presidents National Security Address to be broadcast on all channels.
