Not in Kansas Anymore

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

Khalid glanced at his phone for the eighth time that hour. No new messages, no new emails, no missed calls. It used to be normal to just call up a friend or family after evening prayers to chat and catch up. It wasn't easy to get in touch when he was sitting in class during the ideal time to call, but that's what texting and emails were for. Now, it was just silence on all fronts. As though being the only Muslim in the school and the only Arab didn't make Khalid feel isolated enough. It was always a bit hard adjusting to a new mosque and congregation, though they were all part of the same nation. It was only that everyone there identified as Muslim and not by any national or ethnic character. Khalid saw himself as a Qatari Muslim, and it would feel strange to ignore his nationality.



He stood in Ish's stall and buried his face in her mane. He didn't care that his white thobe was going to be covered in horse hair or that his gutra now fell askew. The imam didn't talk for very long, so the jumu'ah took less time than usual. With the other students still at class, the barn was quiet and peaceful. Though Nasr was Khalid's horse, the boy wanted something familiar in the ocean of different. He loved Nasr like his friends in Qatar loved fancy sports cars. They were great and offered fun, but there was no sentimental value attached to them like the old beater car that just wouldn't die but somehow pulled through even the hairiest situations.



A few tears started the flood. More than anything, Khalid missed everything he loved about Qatar and Doha. After a couple weeks, the excitement of being in a new place wore off only to be replaced by anxiety and withdrawl. He let himself lapse back into Arabic and told Ish about everything he hated about going to school in America in between chocked sobs. How he didn't know how to talk to women at all, how he missed playing video games or watching football on tv with his friends, how no one understood why he disappeared at noon or refused to touch most meats, and how no one understood what it really meant to be Muslim. Khalid didn't think anyone could hear him, but no one would understand his language anyway.

Mikhail Thatcher

[Mikhail Thatcher]

Mick laughed as he turned at the door before leaving his apartment. "Don't look at me like that." He said as he shook his head at the pitiful look that the Retriever was giving him. "I'll be back soon enough." He shook his head with another laugh as he closed the door, leaving the canine. It hadn't been long since they had returned from a walk, so it wasn't like Belle was full of unreleased energy.

Heading across campus, he made his way to the White Oak barn and walked down to visit the gelding he'd been exercising over the last few days. "Hey mate." He greeted the bay Hanoverian as he stopped at the door and smiled as the gelding walked forward and began to sniff at his hands. "I didn't bring you anything, sorry mate." He said, as he brought bribery for when he rode, so visiting him without carrot pieces would hopefully mean that the gelding wouldn't become grabby.

He placed his hand on Casper's nose as he looked up as a sound caught his ears, and his eyebrows lifted as he was sure he could hear someone crying. "Go back to sleep, old man." He said softly to the gelding as he stepped away from the stall and headed toward where the sound he'd heard had come from, and found himself outside the stall of a pretty horse with a blonde mane and tail.

He cleared his throat softly to announce his presence. "I don't mean to intrude, is there anything I can help with?" And he would simply walk away if that's what the boy in the stall demanded.

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

At first, Khalid made no indication that he heard Mick's question. There was sound, but the English was initially meaningless. It took several moments for the sounds to be recognized as words and for the words to be translated into Arabic. His face burned at the realization someone was in the barn. It wasn't even that hard to figure out who he was given the total lack of other people who owned a thobe. Khalid answered defensively in Arabic, though the words were muffled by the mare's fur.

"La sha." Nothing.

Only when his phone vibrated in his pocket did Khalid bother to turn around. For a brief moment, he thought it was someone he knew answering a message only to discover it was a notification about Al Jazeera posting to Twitter. Scowling, Khalid looked ready to throw his phone against the stall door when he noticed Mick standing there. With as much restraint as he could muster, the boy shoved his cell phone back in his pocket.

"I'm...okay."

It was a total lie that Khalid was telling mostly to himself. Horse hair clung to the white garment turning patches of it grey mixed with long creamy strands. The agal had slid forward and looked ready to fall off at any moment despite the tagiya that usually held it in place. Khalid crossed his arms and leaned back against Ish. He hadn't talked to anyone about adjusting to a Western lifestyle mostly due to the fact that no one else on campus really knew what it was like growing up in a theocracy or with close ties to the royal family. Khalid hadn't talked to the imam for advice because of the need to get back to school for afternoon classes. He shivered from the cold and wished his bisht wasn't sitting in his closet on a hanger.

"And I'm not skipping class."

Just in case there was any question as to why a student was in the barn despite it being in the middle of a class period.

[Mikhail Thatcher]

Mick's eyebrows lifted at the defensive answer, even if he couldn't understand the words, the tone and body language spoke volumes. His eyes widened at the reaction to the boy looking at his phone, but still he remained silent, even with the answer in English this time, almost like another student with her forever answer of I'm fine, though he wasn't one to push kids into talking to him, one never got anywhere when they forced another to do something they really didn't want to do at the time.

He smiled and shook his head when class was mentioned. "I wan't going to suggest you were." He replied easily,and it was because he knew that the students were in lessons was the reason he knew it a a good time to come to the barn as he wouldn't be in anyone's way. "I'm Mick." He offered, knowing that at times like this it was just easier not to mention the Dr thing. "I'm going to go back and talk to Casper, though should you feel the need to remove that weight you have rested on your shoulders, I'm told I'm a good listener." Probably not the best time to mention he was one of the school counselors either, that information could come later. He gave a soft smile as he pushed away from the door and stepped away, keeping his steps slow in case he was called back.

[Khalid Al-Kuwari]

Khalid said nothing and refused to make eye contact. He was descended from the royal family, almost a prince. Here, he completely failed at trying to save face. What would someone think if an Al-Kuwari boy couldn't stay professional and composed? It would look bad on his parents if they couldn't raise a child who understood restraint, and it would look bad on his family whose name he shared. Though, as soon as Mick was gone, Khalid turned and hugged Ish around the neck. A horse wouldn't gossip and turn him into the laughing stock of the school.

He went back to talking to the mare giving her a few good pats in gratitude. The class period would end before too long, and there was no way the other students would see him looking so dreadful. At the same time, he did want to talk to someone. Ideally in Arabic as it was easier to form thoughts that didn't sound stupid, but English was doable in a mentally exhausting and frustrating sort of way. Talking about his feelings was never one of Khalid's strong suits, and it felt rather selfish to make someone else listen to his petty woes. People in Africa didn't even have food, and he was suffering from a temporary bout of homesickness.

Ish nuzzled his pocket in search of treats, but it felt like a small push towards the door. Khalid brushed the fur off his thobe to a more presentable appearance and adjust the agal and ghutra. He grabbed one corner of the cloth from behind and pulled it over the opposite shoulder. It was simple, and he didn't want to bother with making a perfect cobra. Khalid wiped his face clean with the sleeve of his thobe, left the stall and walked down the aisle to find Mick. At the very least, he owed the man an apology. It wasn't too hard to find the only other stall occupied by a person. He leaned against the stall door in an effort to look nonchalant.

"Sorry about...that. I didn't think anyone else would be in the barns."

Khalid stared at the ground buttoning and unbuttoning the sleeve cuffs. Still used a desert climate and very much regretting not bringing a coat, the boy couldn't stop shivering. The desert got really cold at night, but people had fires and wool clothes to put on. Any sort of breeze just cut through the lighter cotton thobe.

"You're busy, and I don't want to waste your time, but if you have a few minutes, is there anywhere more private to talk? Class should be over soon, and I don't want to um...have to talk to other students right now..."

[Mikhail Thatcher]

On his way back to the gelding's stall, Mick made a stop in the tack room and came out with the tall horse's body brush. If he was going to spend some time with the horse, he may as well do something. Entering Casper's stall, he approached the horse and began to sweep the brush over his side, thinking of how much the horse reminded him of his own eventer, in breed and size anyway. The horse he'd ridden had been stroppy and very nippy.

His attention was pulled to the door as Casper walked forward and stretched his neck out toward the boy. "Ok, I guess that was my fault for not bothering with the head collar." He chuckled, not sounding at all gross, and he didn't reprimand the gelding in any way for moving off. "It's not a problem." He told the boy. "I wouldn't have been in here, had I not come to see this guy."

He hid his pleased surprise when the student agreed to talk, as long as it was in private. "I have all the time in the world." He replied. "And you're in lucky, I have an office over in the administration building." He gave a guilty shrug. "I'm one of the guidance counselors, so we'll be able to talk in my office without being overheard by anyone else. And this talk could be completely off the books." The offer was there in case the boy didn't want it written down that he'd been to see either of the guidance counselors, he knew that some kids had a thing with being too proud to seek help.

OOC: You can either reply here, or start a continuation thread in the counselor's offices.