Zara's Rules for Record-Breaking Fun

Hena Khan, Wastana Haikal

• Publisher: Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781534497580
• eBook ISBN: 9781534497603

From the beloved author of Amina's Voice comes the first book in a humor-filled middle grade series starring a young Muslim girl with an endless list of hobbies who searches for ways to maximize fun for her family and neighborhood friends. Meet Zara Saleem, the queen of the neighborhood.Zara's in charge of it all: she organizes the games, picks the teams, and makes sure everyone has a good time…and they always do.When a new family moves in across the street, suddenly Zara'?s reign is threatened by Naomi, who has big ideas of her own about how the neighborhood kids can have fun. To get everyone to notice her again, Zara decides she's going to break a Guinness World Record—if her little brother Zayd doesn't mess things up.But when she finds herself increasingly alone in her record-breaking quest, Zara starts to wonder if sharing the crown and making a new friend might end up being the best rule of all.

CHAPTER 1

“Someone’s going inside!” Zayd yells, his face smooshed against the glass of the front window.

“Is it a family?” Mama rushes over from the kitchen, still holding the head of lettuce she was shredding.

I squeeze next to them to peek through the curtains. We watch an elegant older woman in a suit and heels walk past the FOR SALE sign to the entrance of Mr. Chapman’s house.

“I think that’s the agent,” Mama whispers, as if the lady might hear us from across the street.

“Like a secret agent?” Zayd gasps.

“No, Zayd!” I roll my eyes at my little brother. “A real estate agent, who’s selling Mr. Chapman’s house.”

“It would be cooler if she was a secret agent,” Zayd says, before continuing to narrate. “Now there’s another car. It’s a man and woman, but no kids.”

“And hopefully no teenagers?” Baba asks from the stove, where he stirs the spicy meat that’s sizzling in a pan.

“What do you have against teenagers?” I flip around to face my father. “You know I’ll be a teenager in only two years and three months.”

“Don’t remind me.” Baba clutches at his heart and moans.

“Baba! I’m serious.”

“Fine. It’s not that I don’t like teenagers,” Baba clarifies. He tastes the meat and sprinkles more chili powder on top. “I just don’t want any living on our street, driving too fast, having loud parties. And I’d prefer that you and Zayd stay exactly as you are, forever, please.”

Mama smiles. “I’m sure Zara and Zayd will be perfect teenagers when that day comes, eventually, a long time from now, inshallah,” she says. She goes back to the kitchen, slides the lettuce into a bowl, and turns the grater on the cheese.

It’s Taco Tuesday, so Mama fixes all the toppings while Baba cooks the meat. Today is actually Friday. But Zayd calls every night that we have tacos for dinner “Taco Tuesday.” I hear my parents tell their friends how adorable that is, over and over again. It was funny the first few times he said it. But now I think it’s about time Zayd learns the proper days of the week. I mean, he is seven years old already.

I look back out the window. “They’re going inside,” I share.

“Let me see.” Zayd wiggles around for a better view. “I wish kids my age would move in,” he whines. “It’s no fair!”

It’s true there aren’t any kids on our street who are exactly Zayd’s age. But nobody’s ten and three quarters like me either, and you don’t hear me complaining. We’ve got little Melvin next door, who’s only five. Alan is nine and lives on the other side of us. And Gloria, who’s eleven and a half, and her sister, Jade, who’s almost thirteen, live next to Mr. Chapman’s house.

It’s the perfect balance: three boys and three girls, including me and Zayd. We’ve got our teams for games worked out. Everyone understands and plays by the rules, which took a long time to decide on. And we always have so much fun together. I’d prefer that things stay exactly the way they are.

“No one who moves in will be as nice as Mr. Chapman,” Mama sighs, and pops open a jar of salsa. “Or have as beautiful a garden.”

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. Mr. Chapman has always lived across the street, since before I was born. Everyone in our family loves him, and Jamal Mamoo even calls him “the GOAT.” I thought my uncle meant the animal and was making fun at first. But then Jamal Mamoo explained that “GOAT” stands for “Greatest of All Time,” which makes more sense. Jamal Mamoo is obsessed with sports scores and records and is always talking about who’s the best.

The greatest thing about Mr. Chapman is that he pays attention to all of us kids. He gave each of us special nicknames. Mine is “Queen of the Neighborhood,” because he said I “rule with grace and fairness.” I like the idea of being graceful, especially since my dad teases me about my two left feet. And I’m really good at ruling. Even kids who are older than me, like Gloria and Jade, don’t mind that I’m in charge. It’s probably because I’m so fair.

But Mr. Chapman decided to move to Jacksonville, Florida, because he said he couldn’t stand Maryland winters anymore. So the FOR SALE sign went up, and the moving trucks came last week.

“I’m going to grow lemons in Florida,” he said during our group goodbye in his driveway. “When you visit, I’ll be sure to make the lemonade extra sweet.”

I begged him not to move, at least not until winter, but Mr. Chapman said he wanted to give a nice family the chance to move in over the summer. As a parting gift he handed me a small box of Nips. But instead of the chewy caramels that stick to his dentures and my teeth, there was a silver necklace inside. It had a tiny crown charm, which made me smile when I saw it. I tug on it now, and frown, thinking about the people who’ll move in next.

Mama seems worried that whoever buys his house won’t be able to take care of Mr. Chapman’s garden. But I’m nervous about a whole lot more. What if it’s someone mean, who yells at us if our ball lands in his yard—instead of telling silly jokes? What if there are new kids who change the feeling of our street? Like the older teens Baba’s afraid of, or nasty bullies, or even triplets? How would we make our teams even with triplets?

“Dinner’s ready!” Baba interrupts my thoughts. “Can you kids set the table, please?”

Zayd and I look at each other as we leave the window, and I wonder if he’s worrying about the same things I am.

“Taco Tuesday is starting!” he yells, grinning, and I realize he’s not thinking about it at all.

So I put my worries on pause as I place napkins on the table and fill water glasses. Then I enjoy the feast, which is fit for the Queen… of the Neighborhood.

CHAPTER 2

I squint in the bright sunlight, focusing on Gloria. Gloria pulls back her arm and sends the red ball speeding toward me. I kick it with all my might. And then I sprint to the crab apple tree that’s first base.

I grab a low-hanging branch, heavy with tiny apples that are so sour, they make your lips pucker if you dare eat them.

“Safe!” Alan yells as Jade tags me. He waves his arms like an umpire.

“No, she isn’t! You have to touch the trunk!” Jade argues.

“The branches are too thick to reach the trunk,” I pant. “You can touch any part of the tree.”

“What about third base, then?” Gloria points to the wooden fence than runs along the side of her yard. “Can you tag the fence anywhere too?”

“No.” I kick at a half-rotten apple on the grass. “The fence is so big, that would make it way too easy.”

“The tree is also really big,” Jade insists.

Sweat rolls off my forehead and down my cheek. The fence is much wider than the tree I’m touching.

“How about we make third base the part of the fence with the gate? And first base is only the right side of the tree,” I suggest. I’m just trying to rule with grace and fairness—like Mr. Chapman says.

“Fine,” Gloria says, and shrugs, living up to the nickname Mr. Chapman gave her: “Ms. Agreeable.”

Jade gives me a small nod.

I look around to see if anyone else is protesting, and mop my face with my T-shirt sleeve. Kickball is a serious game on our street, but my rules make sure it’s fair. And our teams are as even as possible: Alan, Melvin, and me versus Gloria, Jade, and Zayd. Right now my team is winning five to three. But Melvin has lost interest and is starting to pick dandelions, and Zayd is so sweaty, it’s like he just stepped out of the shower.

“I’m thirsty,” Zayd whines. “Can we stop?”

I glance over at Mr. Chapman’s porch. Today is especially hot, and some of his lemonade would be perfect right now.

“If we stop now, our team wins,” I say, licking my parched lips.

“You always win,” Jade grumbles. Her cheeks match the dark pink tank top she’s wearing, which she tie-dyed herself last week. Jade is the craftiest out of all of us, which is why Mr. Chapman called her “the Artist.” But he pronounced it “ar-teest” to be extra fancy, like Jade.

“You won at tag last time,” I remind her. “But if you want, we can take a break and run through the sprinkler?”

Jade doesn’t respond, because right then a huge truck turns onto our street and stops in front of Mr. Chapman’s house. The brakes squeak and the rumbling engine quits.

ACE MOVERS is written in gigantic blue letters across the side.

Gloria turns to me, her eyes almost as huge as her hair poof.

“It’s the New People,” she says.

Suddenly we’re all on the same team as we huddle together and gape at the truck. Three men jump out, all wearing weight belts and gloves. They slide open the back of the truck like a garage door. Then they pull down a metal ramp and begin to bring out an assortment of furniture wrapped in blankets. I search for clues about what kind of people are moving in, but there are no giveaways other than a huge TV box. Whoever these people are, they must enjoy watching TV.

A minivan pulls up next and turns into Mr. Chapman’s driveway. Zayd grabs my hand. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for!

I spot the same man and woman from last night. They get out, hug e...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Dedication
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Acknowledgments
• About the Author
• Copyright