Chapter 5

I woke up the following morning, and for one blissful morning, I couldn't remember anything. I felt warm, if a little sore, and groaned as I stretched and yawned into my pillow. Looking over to the window, I saw bright light filtering into my room and thanked Allah for weekends and no school and sleeping in. Of course, just as I blinked back the bleariness from my eyes, the entirety of my life came rushing back to me.

Breakfast was awkward, to say the least. Salma was in the kitchen, frying something and my mother was seated at the table, sipping a cup of tea. She greeted me as I sat down but the tension in the room was so thick, I felt like I was choking. Salma and my mother pointedly did not look at each other and so I was left to break the ice.

"Are you, like, actually cooking?" I asked Salma, watching her shrink back from flying, hot oil. She scowled at me and finished up, bringing over a plate of omelette and setting it upon the table.

"I can cook." She sniffed. "Cooking is my calling."

I took a bite out of her omelette and cringed as I heard the unmistakable crunch of an eggshell. "Well, let it go to voicemail."

"At least I try new things." She huffed.

My mother looked up at this and snorted, but turned back to the magazine she is reading and decided not to break the cold shoulder she was giving her daughter. I decided to change the subject before she changed her mind.

"Well, anyway." I said. "Mum, today I'm going over to a friend's house."

My mother raised a brow and nodded. "Have fun, habibi."

"You are going out to hang with friends?" Salma asked, appalled. "Oh wait, is it with that retarded kid you've been hanging out with lately?"

I looked at Salma, disgusted. "What do you mean retarded?"

"I heard he has autism."

"And you believe that?"

"Plus, I heard he sleeps with teddy bears."

"Woah, says the girl who pissed her pants in eighth grade."

"That was one time!"

"Okay, that's enough." My mother interjected and turned to me before I could recall the incident in more greater details. "I'm heading out to run errands. Be home by 10."

I nodded and Salma went back to picking at her breakfast. My mother got up after a few moments and I listened to her get ready and answer a phone call while she rummaged around her purse for keys. I waited until I heard the door open and close, and listened for the car to back out of the driveway, before turning to Salma, hesitantly.

"So...why?" I don't even know how to ask, but I did anyway.

Salma was silent for a moment, chewing her food. She turned to me, indifferent, and I have to wonder if she really doesn't care about our mother being upset with her or taking off her hijab like it was no big deal. I realised that she had changed so much, the past few months, and it was like I was blinking out of a stupor and seeing her for the first time.

"Is it so hard to believe that I want to fit in?" She asked.

I supposed not. She was human after all, and if she didn't care about standing out before, things could change. I considered her words.

"So...do you feel like you fit in, now?"

She opened her mouth but closes it before she can say anything. She just nodded.

"And, mom?" I pushed. "...Dad?"

"If they love me, they should accept me." She gritted her teeth.

I imagined what it took to say something like that. I wondered how one could go against their parents and religion and stand firmly on their own and say something like that. I knew that when it came to my parents, I did everything they wanted of me. I was raised to obey and respect them. And so was Salma, but she was going against their authority, while I had just accepted it as something I had to do. It made me wonder who was right; and who was happier and stronger from the both of us.

In the end, I came to no conclusion. I didn't know who was happier and stronger because neither of us seemed to be.

- -

Ian lived in one of those fancy neighbourhoods with a small lake and huge playground and long, winding trails where people could take walks and stop under gazebos, and have picnics and watch the sunset and return home to their gleaming, three story house complete with it's own pool. The bus I was trying not to fall asleep in, rumbled past the lake and my gaze landed on a small child trying to harass a goose. The goose squawked in rage and chased the poor kid into the water. We passed a giant sign that says "Welcome to Flairview" and finally my stop arrived. I stepped off, cross the road and ring the bell to the address of the house that Ian had texted me the day before.

The doorbell was one of the customised ones, because suddenly the Star Wars theme started playing, which I heard through the door. It opened, and Ian stepped out in front of me wearing a green shirt with orange stripes and a wide smile.

"Hi!"

"Star Wars, really?"

"My dad is a huge fan." He shrugged.

"Uh huh." I stepped inside and took off my shoes. "Well, how's it going?"

"Good!" He chirped, "My mom left us some food and I pulled out some of my games. Wanna play?"

"Yeah sure."

He led me into the living room, which was just as clean and spotless as the rest of the house. There are white sofas covered with dozens of colourful cushions, a glass table in the middle of the room and a giant, theatre sized TV hung up on the wall. I was almost grinning with anticipation because everyone knows video games on giant screens are what life is all about. My eyes were drawn to Ian's video game collection.

"You play Zelda?" I asked, stupidly, because he obviously did. He had almost all the games.

"Why?" He asked, perking up. "Do you?"

"Um, yeah." I said, as if it was obvious. "I slay."

"Pff, prove it."

"I freaking will."

About half an hour, two Pringle tubes, and a jug of lemonade later, I crushed the final boss of the Zorra Domain, and looked at Ian with a smug expression. He pouted.

"Okay, you're good." He finally admitted. "I'll destroy you in Need For Speed, though."

By the evening, we've both inhaled a giant bag of assorted chips, and are absentmindedly sipping cans of soda. We were both glued onto the game, hands clutching out controllers with concentration. I had to admit that I'd never been this annoyed and competitive since grade school.

"How was that fair!" I shrieked.

"Muhaha!" Ian laughed, evilly. "All's fair in love and....cars."

"Shut up!" I grumbled, and almost screamed again when he swerved in front of my car, causing me to crash into a pole.

"That's it!" I threw the controller and huffed. "I'm done!"

"Did you just rage quit?" He asked, astonished.

I said nothing and he fell back in laughter. "You did! You did!"

"So what?" I sniffed, offended and feeling like the butt of some joke. "I'm human, too."

"Like, hardly."

"What?"

"I mean, like. You're way smart. Like you're like some kind of next level genius. So seeing you rage quit is so weird." He explained, still grinning.

"I'm not that smart." I grumbled, still bruised from my crappy gameplay. "I just study hard. Is that what you've heard about me?"

"Well, yeah." He sat back, reaching for a can of Coke and shrugged. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

He rolled his eyes before becoming serious. "Why do people like Cody and his friends call you a terrorist?"

I stared at him. He looked back, totally serious and I wondered what it was exactly that he wanted me to explain. Did he think that I really had done something that would give some jerk -- with apparently school wide influence -- like Cody the right to judge me? I was almost offended and hurt that he would think so but I reminded myself that I didn't know that; I didn't know what he was thinking.

"I think," I began. "That they're scared of how Muslims are portrayed on the media. And so when they see us in school and public, they feel intimidated, so he and his friends call me names to make themselves feel better. So, yeah. Misunderstanding? Ignorance? I..I don't know. I'm not the same person they see on TV. I don't know what I've done to deserve all this hate."

"Oh..." He said. "It's sad how they turn to violence and name calling to make themselves feel better."

"I never said anything about violence." I said, slowly. The tips of Ian's ears turned red and he broke eye contact. I narrowed my eyes. "Ian...if they're picking on you..."

"No!" He squeaked. "Of course not! I haven't even met them. I just heard the rumours and stuff."

I stared at him for a moment longer and drop the subject. I didn't know how to handle situations like this, especially if the kid wouldn't even admit to anything. Besides, I was jumping to assumptions again, so I slid past the sickening thought of Cody and his friends picking on my friend. I froze, with my hand halfway in a tube of Pringles. Ian was my friend. I realised with a start that, I haven't hung out with anyone since grade 9. Ian was my first friend in years.

The Star Wars theme song interrupted this thought. Ian looked up at the front door. "Oh, mom is here."

Ian's mom kind of looked like him, but in a tan suit, long blond hair and heels that made her tower over me. When she smiled, I felt like I should have brought sunglasses with me and also pay a visit to my eye doctor. She was nice, however, and did not make awkward small talk, and sent me on my way home with a container of lasagna. When I got home, Salma popped her head out of her room.

"Is that food?"

"No, it's a fire breathing dragon." I snorted, sarcastically and held up the container. "Be careful, it eats dumb sisters."

"Blah." She stuck out her tongue like the mature sixteen year old she was. "So, how'd it go?"

"Their doorbell is the Star Wars theme song."

"Sounds stupid."

"Do you want this food or not?"

"You know what," Salma pretended to think. "Star Wars is really cool. Amazing..um...plot and dynamics and-."

"Okay, stop." I interrupt her. "That was painful. Here just take it."

Salma grinned and took the container, while I kicked off my shoes. She squealed when she saw that it was lasagna, and she placed it into the microwave. We dug in, and left some for our mother and the scent of pasta filled the kitchen as I explained Star Wars to her. She nodded along, pretending to care but I didn't mind.

That evening, I felt okay.

__________________________________________________________  

Votes/comments are welcomed, appreciated and loved!