That week I volunteered to carry messages around the camp. It meant I got to explore – and spend more time with Aya. As the long hot days wore on, I began to realise how different our lives were. 

I realised by Friday that Ayamin wore the same three pairs of clothes in rotation – a mix of mostly reds, greens, and yellows. It took me a little longer to understand that she only had those three pairs of clothes.

I realised just about everybody in the camp was scared of loud noises. Aeroplanes sent most Syrians to the edge of a table or doorframe. Not quite crawling under, but ready to. The same thing happened when a jackhammer was brought in to break hard ground where the showers were being constructed.

But the biggest difference between us was shown to me one hot Thursday afternoon. 

We walked through the camp, her in a Union Jack shirt and me in a singlet that showed my slowly tanning shoulders. Our feet crunched in the sand and dry dirt beneath us. 

In some ways, I’d got used to the rows and rows of tents, and the faces that peeked out from them. 

‘When Grandma Teete got sick,’ she said, ‘I moved so I wouldn’t be far from the hospital. It’s much easier to move a tent than to move house.’

 She stopped in front of a row of five tents – three nylon ones, a tiny Winnie the Pooh kid’s tent and something that looked like a yurt. 

‘Which one’s yours?’

She was biting the edge of her lip, ‘This one,’ and pointed to the little Winnie the Pooh tent. 

The tent barely looked tall enough to kneel in. My eyes wandered over to the duct tape stretched like stitches over the tent’s rips. Parts of it were faded from the sun. I swallowed and looked at Aya. 

She didn’t meet my eyes. 

‘You… stay here by yourself?’ I asked.

‘Me and grandma, but she doesn’t need the tent at the moment so there’s a little more space.’

I nodded, ‘It’s… nice Aya.’

‘I wish you hadn’t come.’

‘Why?’ 

‘Because look at it,’ she turned to me, her voice was soft, ‘It’s a kid’s tent, and we’ve been living in it two years. Teete got pneumonia because it leaks in winter.’ She was breathing heavily. ‘It sucks, but I’m used to it, I just hate you seeing it.’

I shook my head, ‘I’m impressed. You know how to look after yourself.’

She stood watching me, arms by her sides. I reached out. I wanted to hug her. Instead, I just touched her shoulder. Her skin was warm.

‘I haven’t met anyone our age that’s as strong as you are. You’ve done so well Aya.’

She gave a hearty sniff and wrapped her arms around me, I could feel her quick breaths through her chest, ‘You’re a great liar.’ 

She wiped her nose and laughed, stepping back from me, ‘Do you want to see inside?’

‘Yes!’

She unzipped the flaps and folded them back, then untangled her mosquito netting and spread out her hands… ‘My humble castle.’

Inside, a large inflatable mattress took up most of the floor. A collection of sleeping bags and blankets sat on top of it. Beside the entrance, a gas cooker stood along with a small pan, pot, and two plates, two cups, and two bowls. 

In the left corner was an iron-framed pack with a small sack of dried rice sitting on top. 

‘You need to see it at night sometime,’ she touched a black battery box hanging from the tent roof. ‘I found an old set of fairy lights in the trash and managed to twist the wires together to get them working again.’ 

She smiled as she flicked a small black switch, it looked like Winnie the Pooh was flying amongst the stars, ‘Grandma was proud – they’re like something you’d see on Pinterest.’

I turned to her, ‘Wait… you know what Pinterest is?’

‘Yeah,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘Although grandma used it more than I did. I also know Tumblr, Snapchat, Instagram, WhatsApp, WeChat, Facebook and all the other hundred million social medias. We lived in Syria, not the 1920s.’

‘So, you have a phone?’

She climbed into the tent and ruffled around in the iron-framed backpack until she pulled out a solid looking touchscreen from a brand I didn’t recognise. 

‘Only problem is I can’t afford data or texts or anything and there’s no wifi here. I just keep it charged for the day I start to travel again.’

‘Then how do you keep in contact with your family?’

She froze halfway through putting her phone back in the bag, then slowly shook her head. ‘I’ve depressed you enough already.’

I climbed into the tent behind her, and sat down on the air mattress, ‘Yeah I get that. My family situation isn’t the best either. Perhaps we can trade stories some time – some night?’

She nodded, ‘Under the stars and the fairy lights.’

As Ayamin talked, I slowly became aware of how close we were, how we were together alone. I looked into her eyes and she smiled as she talked. I wondered if she was leaning closer to me. I was leaning closer to her. We were just an arm’s length apart. Within kissing distance. Everything around her was blurring. Her lips were pink and red. They moved slowly as she spoke… 

‘Hello, Danny? What are you doing?’ 

Ayamin’s voice pulled me back into the real world. She had an odd expression on her face. I blinked, then tried to grin. It felt forced. 

‘What was that?’ I said, coughing to cover the fact that my face was turning red.

‘I said tonight? You could be a thief, sneak out, and bring me ice cream. We can watch the stars and eat ice cream from the tub.’

I felt my grin returning, ‘I’ll find you your ice cream.’

She laughed, ‘Great…’ then she touched the side of my head, ‘You okay?’

I tried to think of some way to make myself sound moody or mysterious, but in the end, I just had to shrug, ‘It happens when I talk to beautiful girls.’

She laughed, ‘Alright Augustus Waters. Go find me some ice cream – anything with berries in it is my favourite.’