"I mean, ehm—Meow, go home now? My mom is waiting."
The attempt was laughable. At least, Khadija thought so as she scrambled to cover up the crisp meow that had just escaped.
Infact, It was so unconvincing that Isra let out a chuckle. Ms. Amna immediately turned and glared her down. The already delicate situation worsened by the second.
"Isra, you do know how much I hate cats, don't you?" Ms. Amna straightened her back, brushing imaginary dust off her apron. Drama in situations like this clearly ran in the family.
"Yes, Ammi." (Ammi was their affectionate nickname for their mothers.)
"So, where did the meow come from, Isra?"
"What meow?" Isra denied nonchalantly, as if she hadn't heard anything at all.
The tension rose with every passing second. The slow ticking of the wall clock amplified the pressure. The birds outside had long since stopped chirping, leaving behind a silence that was unraveling. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the cat would—quite literally—be out of the bag.
Before anything could escalate, a sharp hiss cut through the tense air. It came from the kitchen, where the milk had boiled over, spilling across the stove.
Ms. Amna shot the girls a stern look before rushing off toward the kitchen.
"This isn't over! Stay there!" she commanded.
The girls did not stay there. They bolted.
Isra knew it was only a matter of time before her mother would think to check the bag, and when she did, doom was inevitable. The two darted into her room, closing the door as silently as they could. Then, like well-practiced burglars, they got to work. Their coordination was so perfect, it was almost unnatural.
Khadija unzipped the large bag and pulled out the vacuum cleaner. She wiped it down with a wet rag, cleaning away the dirt and mud. Within seconds, it looked brand new. Then, she pressed the eject button, and a lazy cloud puffed out of the nozzle, slowly reforming into a chubby cat.
Khadija quickly stuffed the vacuum back in place.
"Please, I have a family—" the cloud began to plead, but before it could finish, Isra stuffed it into a large plastic box. The lid snapped shut on top of it.
The box wasn't airtight, so theoretically, the cloud could have sabotaged everything. But not today. Today, Isra sat in front of it, calm and composed. One look from her was enough to make the cloud cower into the corner of the box.
She raised a single finger to her lips.
"Shhh," she commanded.
The cloud shushed.
A second later, the door creaked open. Ms. Amna entered, silent as stone and moments away from spewing lava. Her eyes scanned the room, her fire-breathing presence making both girls freeze in place.
She knew, for a fact, that Isra had smuggled another cat into the house.
When her gaze landed on the vacuum cleaner sprawled across the floor, her blood boiled. Still, she said nothing. She had learned to pick her battles. There would come a time for lava-spewing, but not yet.
Only two weeks ago, Isra had hidden a stray kitten behind the TV cupboard for days, feeding it milk and biscuits until Ms. Amna found out—and so did the kitten's furious mother. Ms. Amna's instincts were rarely wrong.
Her sharp gaze shifted to Khadija.
"May I see your bag, Khadija?" she asked, her voice unnervingly polite.
It wasn't an act. Ms. Amna genuinely treated Khadija with more kindness and care than her own daughter. Everyone knew Khadija was usually roped into Isra's schemes against her will.
Khadija handed the bag over without protest. Ms. Amna patted her gently on the head before opening it. Inside, she found a few books—mostly advanced algebra. She frowned at the abominable bindings. Perhaps she was being too kind to Khadija, she thought.
But something still felt wrong.
Her instincts gnawed at her, insisting that the cat—or something worse—was somewhere close. Her eyes darted back to the vacuum cleaner.
She glanced briefly at the monstrous duo before hesitatingly pressing the eject button.
Clack!
The lid snapped open, and a massive cloud of dust and dirt exploded in her face, instantly blackening it.
"Mom, please," Isra said, trying (and failing) to stifle her laughter. "There is no cat. You won't find one because there is none. It was Khadija, really. Just let it go. I'm hungry."
Ms. Amna looked up, utterly resigned. What could she even say? After all, who opens vacuum cleaners expecting to find a cat inside? She felt a wave of embarrassment but not too much. Deep down, she knew antics like this weren't far-fetched for these two.
She sighed, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve.
"I want you both at the table in two minutes," she said sternly before leaving the room.
And so, the game ended.
Isra, in her mind, grinned. She had once again swept a clean victory from her fire-breathing mother with sheer genius and brilliance. She was slowly becoming undefeatable in her own house.