THREE

When the bell announcing the end of class rang, Hâroon joined the crowd of students exiting Chemistry and heading for their lockers to get the books needed for the next class. While the rest moved along with casual carelessness, he kept his eyes peeled for Lila, as always. She had a disturbing tendency to try to brush up against him at any opportunity. He couldn’t afford to be as laidback as the rest.

He saw no signs of her and hoped it meant that she’d already moved on. Relaxing slightly, he followed the crowd in the direction of his locker and as the other teens spread out, he made his way toward it and turned the dial until the clasp released and he removed the padlock. He glanced warily inside as he opened it.

To his relief, there was no sign of a gift. It had been a few weeks since he’d unapologetically told her that he’d given the one she’d left in his locker away. She hadn’t left a second one since, though the letters he always trashed continued.

Since that day, Hâroon had been going to great lengths to keep her as far away as possible. In any classes that they happened to share and in which she sat too close for comfort, he switched to another seat, and he was always the first to leave those classes to ensure she couldn’t catch him when he left.

Outside of class, he usually kept company with Ya’qoob, who was more often messing around in the hallways than sitting in class. Since he usually finished his seatwork before he left, most of the teachers tolerated it. Hâroon had noticed that his usually harmless, playful little brother seemed to morph into an overprotective, ferocious bodyguard anytime Lila was nearby. It was shocking and rather uncharacteristic of the class clown Ya’qoob was known to be, but it kept Lila away, so Hâroon didn’t prevent it.

As usual, Hâroon trashed the letter and then turned back to his locker, pulling out his Calculus textbook and notebook for his next class. That was when he heard her voice.

“You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?” she spoke up from behind him as he dropped the textbook and notebook into his bag.

“Noticed, did you? Doesn’t that give you a hint?” He found that it was easier to talk to her now than it had been at first, and he used the advantage to remind her of his displeasure. Being nice and polite would only encourage her.

“Not really,” she replied, amusement leaking into her voice. “You’re just running away because you’re scared. I could be the best thing that happened to you if you let it be.”

“Just like you were the best thing for all the guys before me?” he asked sarcastically, slamming his locker shut and clicking the lock back into place. “I’m not that dumb. Leave me alone, Lila.”

“You like me!” she exclaimed. “Why are you making this so hard? We could have fun together.”

Hâroon wondered if she was naive enough to believe a guy had to like her to be attracted to her. “No, Lila, I don’t like you. I’m pretty close to despising you.”

Unexpectedly, and to his absolute horror, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his waist and pressing up against him. “Never took you for a liar, Aaron. I know you want me.”

Hâroon shuddered as he fought the raging desire, trying to gather up the willpower to jerk away. Incidents like this was exactly why a mixed school setting was disadvantageous to Muslim youth, he knew. If an affordable option had been available, he knew he and his brother would have been sent to a boys’ school instead.

Before Hâroon could move, however, Lila was pulled away to his relief, followed by her scream of protest. “What the hell?! Let go of me!”

He turned to see Hâdirah and Noorah holding the older girl back by her arms as she struggled against them. Though younger than her, the two girls seemed more than capable of keeping her restrained. Dawood and Ya’qoob stood by them, arms crossed and glaring at her.

“What is this, some kind of bodyguard posse?” she demanded. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, you are,” Ya’qoob said coolly. “I think you have problems understanding what no means. He said no and he means no. Leave him alone.”

“And exactly who are you two?” Lila asked as she tried to pull away from her captors. “His fan club?”

Hâdirah and Noorah didn’t reply.

Hâroon slung his bag over his shoulder and made to walk past her and to class while she remained the girls’ captive.

“Aaron, you’re just going to let them treat me like this?” Lila screamed at him. “Do something! Tell them to let me go!”

“Not happening,” Ya’qoob said. “At least not until he’s gone since you appear to not be able to control yourself very well. I’ve never known someone so incapable of understanding no before.”

“My name is not Aaron,” Hâroon spoke up, slow and deliberate. Though he could accept some of the teachers preferring to call him by the Biblical version of his name, it aggravated him when anyone else did. It was not his name. “My name is Hâroon.” He turned away from her. “My brother is right. You don’t know how to accept no as an answer. I don’t like you and I’m not going to go out with you—ever. I’d suggest you stop harassing me before I have my parents talk to yours.”

She stared at him in shock, but he didn’t wait for a reply. He headed off toward Calculus, leaving her behind. He hoped what he’d said would have an effect or he might really have to tell his parents. It was embarrassing and humiliating to think of telling them that he was having problems with a girl.

🌾

At eight o’clock on Monday morning, as the hallways were crowded with students removing the books they needed for their first classes, Hâroon opened his locker with the expectation of finding the usual; an unwanted letter tucked among his belongings, but for the first time since Lila had started the desperate pursuit that was making school life difficult and challenging, he found nothing. The heart-printed envelopes she used were conspicuously absent. All that he saw were the books he’d left on Friday afternoon before heading home.

Taken aback, yet relieved he didn’t have yet another letter to throw away, he removed his World History textbook and notebook from his locker, tucked them into his bag, and then shut the door, latching the lock back in place. Then, among the rest of crowd, he made his way toward class before the bell rang.

When he entered the classroom, the only one present was Samantha, hidden behind a book she was reading. As usual, he said nothing to her when he sat down and she didn’t acknowledge him either. Other than the one time she’d commended him on being wiser than she had in his dealings with a superpopular pursuer or when they had to partner for schoolwork, she never said a word and he never tried to draw her into conversation. He pulled out his textbook to start reading the chapter that would be covered in class, and Samantha continued ignoring him.

The peace of the class was broken as the first warning bell rang five minutes later and students started to pour in bringing their voices and laughter with them. Samantha didn’t seem to notice, but it made it too hard for Hâroon to concentrate on his reading, so he shifted his eyes away from the text in resignation, watching as girls and boys poured through the door in singles, duos, trios, and groups, filling the room with chatter, footsteps, and the scrapes of moving tables and chairs as they sat down.

Hâroon watched with a casual disinterest, until the moment Lila swept into the classroom with her friends. Then, almost involuntarily, he tensed as he prepared himself. Since he’d moved to sit beside Samantha, while the teacher wasn’t present, she would come over to their side of the room and try to harass him. This time, however, turned out differently. Beneath lowered lashes, so she’d be unaware of his observance, he watched as she separated from her friends and headed straight for her chair without even looking in his direction. Then she pulled out her books, opened the textbook, and started to read.

Hâroon was both shocked and relieved. The only explanation he had was that the words he’d said during their last confrontation had sunk in, that she was finally realizing that she had no chance of winning him. He didn’t dare believe Lila had fully given up, but for now, it seemed, he was safe from her and her advances. As Mrs. Roberts entered and dropped the books she was carrying on her desk, he turned to the front and gave Lila no more thought.

Throughout the day, Hâroon continued to notice—with absolute relief—that Lila was leaving him alone. No matter how many times he returned to his locker, there was never an unwanted love letter waiting, and when they passed in the hall, she didn’t try to approach or speak to him. Finally, the nightmare was over, or so he hoped.

During lunch break at the cafeteria, her behavior was the same as it had been in the halls and classroom. When they crossed paths as he was making his way toward the food counter, she only nodded in acknowledgement and then moved aside. She didn’t try to engage him in conversation or try to touch him as she’d been doing the past few months.

When he made his way to the table he, Ya’qoob, Dawood, and Jacob sat at with his tray, Ya’qoob was watching him. “Queen Bee gave up?”

Hâroon shrugged as he set down the tray and then sat across from his brother. “No notes in my locker and she hasn’t bothered me in class today, so let’s hope so.”

Ya’qoob nodded approvingly, looking just as relieved as Hâroon felt. “Hope so.”

🌾

The English class was its usual chaos when Hâroon entered after break on a Thursday afternoon. The crowd forced him to pass by Lila’s chair, which he usually avoided, but when she looked up at him, she only offered a half smile. She made no flirtatious comments or remarks and she didn’t try to touch him. Relieved, he continued on and then took his place beside Diego, who was engaging in his usual activity of flirting with Amy. As Hâroon’s usual, he ignored them by opening his textbook and reviewing the topic of the next lesson.

Almost involuntarily, he found his gaze being drawn to where Lila sat at the front with her friends and the rest of her circle, but she wasn’t staring or sending suggestive smiles his way as she used to. In fact, she wasn’t looking at him at all. She’d already turned her attention to Daisy, her seat mate, and was engaged in conversation.

It had been about a week since he’d first starting noticing the change in Lila’s behavior. At first, he’d thought it was a temporary reprieve, but she hadn’t changed her tune for the entire week. She no longer tried to ambush him in halls or touch him when he passed by, and she had stopped seeking him out or slipping letters into his locker. He was starting to feel the hope that it was a permanent change after all—that she’d finally given up and he could live out the rest of his senior year in peace.

He pulled his attention away from her and back to his textbook, but before he’d read more than a few words, Mr. Hawkins strode into the room, bringing order to the class as everyone seated themselves and faced the front.

“Good afternoon,” the English teacher said in his usual stiff tone as he set down his book and briefcase. “Before we begin, I’d like some volunteers to go to the teachers’ lounge and get the notebooks.”

Unsurprisingly, no one said a word or raised their hand. Rather, most were suddenly busy looking at their books or rifling through their bags. It wasn’t too surprising. Mr. Hawkins’ wasn’t the kind of teacher who students were eager to help.

Mr. Hawkins’ didn’t look too bothered about the students’ reaction to his request. Instead, his gaze began to go over the students into the room, until they fell on Hâroon. “Scott.” He gave him that smirk which rankled to see. “I’m sure a strong young man like yourself can manage a few notebooks, can’t you?”

Some of the class quietly snickered at Mr. Hawkins’ mocking tone.

Hâroon doubted it was just a few notebooks, but he shrugged and stood. He had no idea if it had been coincidental or intentional, but there were a lot of things much worse than picking up notebooks from the teachers’ lounge for Mr. Hawkins, so he left his desk without complaint.

He passed through the aisle leading up to the teacher’s desk and the front of the classroom. He couldn’t help noticing that Lila was watching him when he passed by her desk. He couldn’t be sure if it was because Mr. Hawkins had called attention to him or if she’d had her gaze on him for a while, but he ignored her as he exited the class.

He walked through the halls and exited the main school building and then crossed the school campus to the administration building, which held offices and staff rooms. With about seven teachers per subject, the staff rooms had been divided into departments. When he reached the English staff room, it was easy to figure out which desk belonged to Mr. Hawkins. It was the only one with stacks of notebooks on it. As he’d thought, what lay before him was definitely more than a few notebooks. He counted at least twenty.

Resigned, he stepped up to the desk and eyed the stacks before him. Alone, it would take more than one trip between the two buildings to transport everything to the classroom. It was just like Mr. Hawkins not to offer him an assistant, even while knowing it would take Hâroon a while to carry all the books to the classroom. Maybe calling him out had been intentional after all.

“Do you need help?” Lila’s voice spoke up from behind him and he froze. “I think that’s too much to carry on your own. Why’d he send you by yourself?”

Surprised by her oddly casual behavior, he merely shrugged. It seemed to be pointless to admit that he was a constant target of their teacher’s dislike. Without comment, he picked up a pile of the books and headed out of the room, exiting the building and entering the main building.

Some moments later, Lila caught up to him with another stack in her arms. He stiffened and narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but she made no suggestive comments nor untoward advances. She didn’t even look at him.

“I know you don’t like me much, but you looked like you could use some help,” she said conversationally as she walked alongside him, almost running to keep up with his stride. “I guess I don’t blame you for not liking me. I was awful, wasn’t I?”

“Quite,” he agreed, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He was better known for his blunt honesty than his tact, and he had no intention of sugarcoating the truth for her—she had been intolerable.

“I’m too used to things going my way,” she admitted, sounding apologetic. “So I didn’t take it so well when you kept turning me down.”

“What was I, a possession to be acquired?” he asked sarcastically, blood boiling at the admission.

She visibly winced. “I guess I really did treat you that way. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

It seemed as if she could be turning over a new leaf, but Hâroon had not quite forgiven her for the embarrassment and humiliation she’d caused him. He made no reply and as they reached the classroom, he preceded her inside, placing the books on Mr. Hawkins’ desk. As she came up alongside him to do the same, he pivoted and marched out to head back to the lounge and retrieve the remaining. Moments later, she was running behind him to keep up.

“I don’t need your help,” he said stiffly, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “Go back to class.”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she commented. “I suppose I can’t blame you, but I’ll still help you.”

Hâroon shrugged and walked on, ignoring her for the rest of the way. Even as she silently walked behind him, he was far too aware of her presence for his liking, but she didn’t need to realize that. He pretended not to notice her at all and made no further replies to any comments she made thereafter, and she quickly gave up any attempts for further conversation.

In silence, they transported the rest of the books to the class and then sat back down. For the duration of the period, as Mr. Hawkins handed out the checked notebooks and gave them a class assignment, he could feel her eyes trained on him, but he ignored her.

🌾

The day was warm and pleasant in the early noon as Hâroon accompanied Dawood, Ya’qoob, and Jacob outdoors during lunch break to take advantage of the fresh air rather than sitting in the crowded noisy cafeteria. When they stepped outside with their food though, his eyes were naturally drawn to Lila who, instead of sitting with the popular set as he would have expected, was among a group of freshmen girls and appeared to be explaining something to them in the textbooks they were showing her. He couldn’t help watching her admiringly for a moment before remembering himself and pulling his gaze away.

In the past month since he’d first noticed that Lila was acting differently, he’d seen a drastic change in her that he couldn’t help admiring. Not only had her bold harassment completely stopped, but she’d stopped teasing and picking on the less popular kids or anyone who was different. She was even offering help as a tutor for those who needed it.

At first, admittedly, he felt a small niggling doubt that Lila may have altered her behavior to get into his good graces since her predatory pursuit hadn’t worked, but when her new behavior didn’t change, he concluded that she was in fact sincere. Against his better judgement, knowing there was no hope for a future with her—for the only Christian he could marry was one who was chaste—he would find himself watching her and her actions of goodwill around the school, becoming more and more pulled in by what he saw.

She seemed to be more than just a pretty face now. Observing her tutoring the younger girls was just one of the many types of help he’d seen her offering anyone and everyone lately. The self-centered, selfish Lila Kendall he’d known and disliked seemed to be gone, replaced by a kind, compassionate girl that he couldn’t help being drawn to—even if he could never have a future with her.

As he sat down with the three younger boys and started eating, he found himself looking back in her direction. This time, his behavior didn’t go unobserved.

“Don’t tell me she’s fooling you, too,” Ya’qoob’s cynical tone broke through his thoughts. “Don’t fall for it, Roon.”

Hâroon looked away from Lila to study his little brother. What he’d feared would happen but desperately hoped wouldn’t had come to pass. Though Noorah and Ya’qoob had been unofficially engaged since they were nine and ten and a more official engagement had been done before Noorah had started high school, things had come to a tragic end. She had broken off the engagement and accepted the proposal of someone else. The night Ya’qoob had been told the news by her father, he had returned home and cried for what had seemed like hours. Hâroon hadn’t seen Ya’qoob cry since he was a young child. Worse still, Noorah had chosen a young man who was new to the area that no one knew much about and who Ya’qoob didn’t trust. Not only was his brother heartbroken, he was worried that his childhood playmate had chosen the wrong kind of man for her husband.

It had been some weeks since they’d heard the news, but Ya’qoob hadn’t recovered and Hâroon feared he never would. He was moody, cynical, and broke down into tears easily. He hadn’t played any pranks or jokes since and he was often in his own world of misery. The playful, mischievous little brother Hâroon knew was gone and he wasn’t sure how to bring him back or if it was even possible.

“People can change, can’t they?” Hâroon pointed out, continuing to eat his sandwich.

“Sure,” Ya’qoob agreed with a shrug. “But I’m not sure she has. It could be a ploy to get your attention, you know.”

“Do you really think that?” Hâroon couldn’t help asking. “It’s not like I’d go for her. I can’t marry her or anything.”

Ya’qoob sighed. “I don’t know, Roon. I can’t read hearts. I can only tell you how I feel, and I’m telling you I still have a bad feeling about her. Just stay away from her. It’s not something uncommon for a person to be doing great things outwardly while possessing a heart of hypocrisy, is it?”

“No,” he admitted. “You’re right. Don’t worry, Qoob. I know she isn’t for me. I can’t marry her after all.”

“No, you can’t,” Ya’qoob agreed, sounding relieved. He sighed, dropping back into the desolate mood he’d been in since receiving the news of Noorah’s engagement, plucking stalks of grass and absentmindedly twisting and twirling them between his fingertips. His sandwich was left on his lap, forgotten. “Do you think...she’ll change her mind?”

Hâroon didn’t need to ask who “she” was. He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, Qoob.” It pained him to see his brother so hurt, but he didn’t want to lie to appease him. “We can hope...”

“She’s not going to, is she?” the younger boy asked brokenly. “She must have never liked me as much as I did her...” He yanked at the stalks held between his fingers. “And it wasn’t enough for her to just break my heart,” he continued. “She had to go and choose someone that would make me worry. Plenty of good guys and she had to choose him...”

Hâroon watched helplessly as his little brother’s broad shoulders slumped and he bowed his head in despair. He exchanged a concerned look with Jacob and Dawood, who were both eying Ya’qoob sympathetically.

Hâroon privately thought he and his brother were quite the pair—Ya’qoob was in love with someone who didn’t want him; and he was drawn to someone he could never have.

🌾

The halls were rife with discussions of the final exams due to start within the next week as Hâroon, in the company of his brother and cousin, stopped at his locker. Behind him, Ya’qoob and Dawood were discussing plans for a celebration after exams were over that included eating out and going bowling.

Listening without joining in, Hâroon felt relieved that his brother seemed to be finally adjusting to moving on his life without Noorah Montez as his wife. She had since married and was now living with her new husband as she continued school. Ya’qoob had bravely attended the nikkâh with everyone else associated with the Montez family, displaying an inner strength Hâroon hadn’t known his brother possessed, but had then returned home in tears. After a few days, Ya’qoob seemed to pull himself together and start acting more like himself, but Hâroon wasn’t sure how much of it was an act and how much of it was sincere.

It was nearing the end of the year and graduation was almost upon him. Though many of his classmates still weren’t certain of what they intended to study, he had already chosen his path. Following his father’s footsteps, he planned to major in agriculture and business and had already sent his application to his choice of colleges and universities, hoping to be accepted into Oswald M. Melville University, the same one Yahyâ had attended.

Tuning the discussion out, he took his World History textbook out of his locker, which he’d be reading in class for the review they’d been doing. He dropped them into his bag and closed the locker, slinging one strap of his schoolbag over his shoulder.

Just as he was about to part ways with Dawood and Ya’qoob, a sudden, unexpected and eerie silence came over the hallway, followed by loud whispers and exclaims of disbelief.

“Hey, is that...?”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Is that Lila?!”

“What is she wearing?!”

“She’s gone and turned into one of those desert people...”

The comments made him turn to see what the commotion was about. He stared in disbelief at the vision walking down the halls—Lila, fully covered in an ’abâyah and hijâb. The girl known for taking pride in her appearance, perhaps spending an hour or more on her hair or makeup before coming to school, was nowhere in sight and he couldn’t help staring at her replacement in shock.

She didn’t appear to even be embarrassed or disturbed by the attention she was getting. She simply smiled and nodded her acknowledgment to those she knew as she headed toward her locker. The fact that she seemed to be wearing her new identity with the same pride and confidence as she had her former one filled him with admiration.

The change was unexpected and shocking. Though he had seen drastic improvements in Lila’s behavior and personality in the last few months, he had not seen any hints or indications that she was interested in Islâm. For her to suddenly appear at school dressed as a Muslim was nothing he’d ever expected or even dreamed to witness.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the biggest and most major obstacle that had been keeping them apart had been removed—if she had in fact truly embraced Islâm. The only way to know was to confirm it, but to do that he would have to speak to her.

However, before he could even think of taking a step toward her, he was roughly yanked back by strong, unrelenting arms. “Don’t even think about it, Roon,” Ya’qoob hissed. “I’m not letting someone else I love make a big mistake. Noorah was more than enough.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to do,” Hâroon said, though it was very probable that he did. No one knew him better than Ya’qoob.

“Yes, I do,” the younger boy said. “You were thinking you could marry her now that she’s become Muslim. You’re smarter than that, Roon. Doesn’t it seem rather sudden and unexpected? Look before you leap. Find out why she became Muslim. I’ll tell you what I’ve told you before—I have a bad feeling and I don’t trust her. You can do better.”

He inwardly sighed. Ya’qoob was suffocatingly overprotective and distrusting when it came to Lila, even though everyone else could see the evidence that she had turned over a new leaf. He was beginning to wonder if his brother’s broken heart was affecting his sixth sense

“You could be wrong, you know,” he said slowly, keeping his voice gentle. “I know you’re upset about Noorah, but this isn’t the same. You could be wrong. I know she wasn’t a great person before, but she’s changed. Anyone can see that.”

“You’re letting your wants blind you,” Ya’qoob said. “You think because I’m an emotional wreck that my feelings are off, don’t you? I know they’re not. Be careful, Roon.”

“I will be,” Hâroon said, but as he watched Lila glide down the hall toward her first class, he was already dreaming of their wedding and a future with her.

When Mrs. Roberts designated the two of them to retrieve pre-exam history review worksheets from the teachers’ lounge for her after they’d entered class, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to ask her the questions whirling through his mind. It seemed to be fate that the two of them were simultaneously chosen to Hâroon.

As they walked the distance from the class to the teachers’ lounge, he spoke up. “When did you decide to become Muslim?” he asked. “I didn’t know you were interested.”

“Not too long ago,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “It felt like something I had to do.”

“It’s not a decision you can just make on impulse,” he persisted. “It’s something that will affect your life and how you live it. You have to be serious and sincere about it.”

An expression of discomfort and unease flashed across her face so fast he thought he’d imagined it. “I know that,” she said, sounding affronted.

“How are your parents taking it?” he asked, changing the subject. His intention wasn’t to raise her ire but to gauge her sincerity so he could decide if he could marry her or not. He didn’t want her to think he was accusing her of carelessness or not being serious enough in making such a life-changing decision.

She shrugged. “They’re not happy, but they’ve accepted it. I think they’d rather have me believe in something than the way I was going.”

Hâroon could believe that, too. She hadn’t exactly been the kind of daughter Christian parents would have wished her to be. They probably recognized that Islâm had improved her behavior and were at least grateful for that, even if they didn’t agree with her choice of belief. He was glad they hadn’t taken drastic measures like throwing her out or grounding her as some parents who discovered their offspring had converted to Islâm would do.

“That’s good then,” he said. “What made you decide to embrace Islâm?”

She paused, seeming uncertain on how to answer. “I just told you,” she finally said, sounding slightly nervous. “I felt I had to convert.”

“But why?” he pressed. I had to convert was not a proper answer. There was always a reason, some connection the new convert had felt with Islâm that drove them to such a life-changing decision, and he needed to know what Lila’s was. “What made you feel you had to?”

She stared at him for several moments, and he began to feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. She appeared uncertain and unsure of how to answer, but when she finally spoke, her voice was confident and sure. “It spoke to me. It had all the answers. It was the right thing for me.”

Hâroon smiled in relief. For just a moment, he had thought that maybe she really had converted on impulse as Ya’qoob had implied. He couldn’t think of marrying her if that was the case. The certainty and confidence in her tone assured him that he had no need to worry. Despite his brother’s concerns, he felt certain that she was right for him. She may have not been earlier, but she had changed, even if Ya’qoob couldn’t see that.

“I’m happy for you then,” he said sincerely—and he truly was. Though he was of course ecstatic that the main obstacle that would keep him from marrying her had been removed, he was happier for her that she had found guidance, regardless if they married or not.

Her smile seemed nervous and uncertain, and he wondered why she would be uneasy around him now. It seemed slightly odd since she always came across as self-assured and confident. Though puzzled, he made no further comments. He had succeeded in his mission and any further conversation would be unnecessary and perhaps even border on inappropriate. If he wished to take things further, he had to do so through the proper channels, which meant speaking with his parents.

They continued on to the teachers’ lounge in silence, and gathered the worksheets left on Mrs. Roberts’ desk. Then they headed back to the classroom. All the way back, Hâroon thought over what he was going to tell his parents and how he was going to do it.

🌾

The mid-afternoon day was sweltering and hot as Hâroon accompanied his father and brother through the fields of Elm Creek, observing the men who were at work with the crops or animals. With exams finally over, he was back to his afterschool duties of working the farm alongside his father and uncles, which he loved to do best. While Ya’qoob did his chores as an obligation, it had always been Hâroon’s passion to follow in his father’s footsteps, which began with his pursuit of double majoring agriculture and business management in university and ended with him joining his father in running the farm when he graduated.

His future beside Yahyâ Scott wasn’t the only thing passing through his mind. With high school graduation fast-approaching, he knew he had to speak to his parents about Lila soon; before they went their separate ways when they started college. Though he’d continued observing her at school, taking note of all the positive changes he liked—like the fact she was kind to all who she crossed paths with and was no longer flirting with every boy she met—he had been putting off the conversation because of Ya’qoob.

It didn’t matter how much he negotiated with his brother or pointed out all of Lila’s changes and good points, Ya’qoob seemed to be deaf and blind when it came to the girl he had chosen. He remained adamant on his stance that she was not to be trusted and even threatened Hâroon he’d never forgive him if he married her. He didn’t believe his brother would literally never forgive him, but the threat gave him pause, because he didn’t want to risk the close relationship they had just for a girl.

But his desire to have Lila as his wife wouldn’t leave him and he was certain Ya’qoob was speaking from the place in his heart that was still distraught over Noorah’s betrayal. Eventually, he would forgive him for not taking his advice and he would come to see that he was wrong about Lila and Hâroon was right. Ya’qoob, after all, had always been forgiving in nature and he had never known him to hold a grudge. So as he walked with his father, it seemed like the perfect time to bring up the subject.

“Dad, I need to talk to you and Mom about something.”

Yahyâ looked at him curiously. “Alright... What about?”

He could feel Ya’qoob’s eyes on him and when he glanced in his direction, he found his brother glaring at him with narrowed eyes. The message was clear: Don’t do it.

He turned away from him and tried to ignore the penetrating gaze. “Later,” he said to his father. “I want to talk to Mom, too.”

“Okay then,” Yahyâ said.

The subject was dropped and they continued on, but for the rest of the day, Ya’qoob sent him glares that warned him against what he’d decided to do. But he was determined, regardless of how his brother felt about it. Ya’qoob’s feelings on the subject were biased and misplaced. Lila had changed.

So Hâroon ignored him as he thought over what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. It wasn’t every day one approached his parents about getting married. Plus, his mother might have had someone else in mind for him that she’d been waiting to introduce him to when he decided he wanted to get married. It didn’t matter if she did or not, because he wanted no one but Lila and had to prepare himself to make a convincing argument just in case.

At the end of the day, Hâroon accompanied his father and brother home from the masjid after Maghrib for dinner. It would be the ideal time to bring up the subject of his desire to marry before his parents stepped outside together for their evening walk, a time that was for them alone. He knew it would be better to do it without Ya’qoob’s presence since he would probably put his two cents in when he brought up Lila, but even if he succeeded in getting Yahyâ and ’Alîyâ alone, he was sure his brother would interfere at the first opportunity anyway. It was best to just prepare himself and get it over with.

So when the family of four, his sister having married and moved out when he was thirteen, sat down for dinner, he spoke up before anyone could take a bite, resolving to get it over with before he lost his nerve. “Dad, Mom, I have something I want to talk about.”

“Oh, yes,” Yahyâ recalled as ’Alîyâ regarded him curiously with the same leaf-green eyes he and Ya’qoob shared.

“What is it?” she asked.

Ignoring the silent warning in his brother’s eyes, he pressed on. “I want to get married.”

Ya’qoob looked furious, but his parents were too shocked to notice. They exchanged looks of surprise before his mother turned back to him. “Well, this is unexpected, but it’s a good thing. I think there are a few girls in the community looking to get married and I can find out about them...”

“No, Mom. I already know who I want to marry.”

To Alîyâ’s credit, she recovered from the announcement quickly. “Oh! Well, who is it? Someone we know? Your sister and I can go see the girl and get things moving.”

“No...” Hâroon said slowly. “She’s not someone we know, or at least I don’t think so...”

“Well, out with it, boy!” she exclaimed with a shake of her blond head. “What’s her name?”

Before Hâroon could reply, Ya’qoob spoke up, distaste obvious in his voice. “Her name is Lila Kendall.”

“Lila Kendall...” she repeated slowly. “I think I recognize that name...”

Dread churned in Hâroon’s gut as he suddenly recalled why it would sound familiar to his mother—he almost wished he hadn’t spoken. Pear Orchards High had held an open day to raise funds for a charity in his junior year. It had carried on through to the evening and some of the students had managed to sneak beer past the teachers and started drinking. Lila and her then-boyfriend had been caught drunk and in a very compromising position; it had been a scandal that had circled the school for months. To make it worse, both his mother and sister had been among those who had seen them. He desperately hoped she wouldn’t recall the incident. It would not put Lila in a favorable light.

He knew the instant his mother remembered. Her face pinched and she frowned, turning disapproving eyes on him. “That Lila?! Hâroon, what are you thinking?”

“He isn’t,” Ya’qoob said unhelpfully. “I’ve warned him. He won’t listen. I don’t like her. I have a bad feeling about her.”

Even Yahyâ turned disappointed blue eyes on him, making him cringe. “She’s changed,” he argued, hoping he sounded more confident than rebellious. “I know she wasn’t the best person, but you haven’t let me tell you why I want to marry her. She’s Muslim now. A clean slate, right? We can’t hold her past deeds against her.”

Alîyâ relaxed slightly but still appeared uncertain. “I’m glad to hear that, but, Roon hon, many people convert without sincerity or true belief. You can’t just up and marry someone because they’ve become Muslim. Even if we were to consider someone who had been Muslim for some time or was raised as one, we would still consider her deen and akhlâq. What is it about her that interests you besides her beauty?”

He flushed under his mother’s penetrating stare. She obviously knew his own weaknesses better than he’d thought. He assured himself that he was no longer just attracted to her. She was confident and proud in her new identity and showed it; she had cast her old life behind without reserve; she was thoughtful and kind to those around her; she was helpful to teachers and peers alike; and she was improving every day. He could think of no reason not to pursue her.

“She’s not the same girl she was, Mom...” he said slowly. “She’s changed a lot. She doesn’t do the stuff she used to and she’s nice and helpful. I asked her about why she converted. She’s sincere.”

“And how would you know that?” Ya’qoob spoke up cynically. “Sincerity can be faked.” He added, “Hâroon conveniently forgot to mention the part where she tried to seduce him before she converted. There’s a pretty good chance she did it to get his attention. Noorah and Hâdirah had to restrain her once. She was all over him.”

Hâroon had never thought of himself as hot-tempered, but his brother was definitely testing the limits of his patience. He had never been so tempted to thrash him, but he resisted the urge. He knew part of the reason Ya’qoob had become so hard to live with lately was because he was hurting. Hitting him wouldn’t make it better.

His parents appeared to be shocked. His mother tensed and his father paled. Both stared at him with expressions of disapproval and disappointment.

“Hâroon...” Yahyâ spoke for the first time since he had made his announcement. “I think it’s best that you forget this girl... If you really want to get married, we can find someone good for you. Someone that we feel doubtful of is not the right choice.”

Ya’qoob’s satisfied smile riled him even further, but he held his temper in check as he reasoned with his father. “What if she’s sincere? Why are we judging her for past mistakes? Embracing Islâm erases it all, right? I know she made big, major mistakes, but she’s different now. I wouldn’t want to marry her if she was the same—trust me.”

His mother sighed. “Alright—since you are so determined, we will visit her and her parents. We will have to see if she’s truly as you say.”

Relieved, Hâroon nodded his agreement, restraining the urge to jump up in excitement. “Of course, Mom.”

The subject was quickly dropped then as other things of importance were discussed instead as the family started eating their dinner. Afterward, they retired to the den to relax for a while before ’Ishâ. As had become usual for Ya’qoob, he sat alone, staring into space and drifting in his desolate thoughts. Hâroon joined his parents in a family board game, though his thoughts were mostly on Lila and the upcoming meeting his parents would arrange.