Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 5

^Surah Maryam by Sheikh Al Ghamdi

Dedicated to ilovuAllah for knowing what it feels like to be the eldest child! Hope you guys enjoy this Chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :) 

(Edited)

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"Oh, not you again."

I had been perfectly fine, listening to the Quran through my earphones and staring out the window of the bus, until he sat next to me. The worst part was, my seat was the last one available, since Damian always got on towards the more congested part of the ride. And as no one else was willing to sit beside the Muslim girl, Damian took this as the opportunity to crowd the only personal space I had left. If only I had put my bag beside me like any smart person would, but it was a Tuesday morning, and I wasn't feeling so tip-top.

"What are you listening to?" Damian thought he had a right to snatch one of my earphones and plug it into his ear, only to pull it out immediately, making a face. "That's not music."

"Yeah, and I'd appreciate if you leave me alone," I snapped, taking back my earphone and reinserting it under my hijab. I increased the volume a little, listening to Surah Maryam, recited by my favourite Sheikh, Saad Al Ghamdi. He read it so beautifully it was almost musical, and I got goose bumps whenever I listened to him. But however loud I made it, I could still hear Damian's voice, because Quran was different to music. It didn't completely drown out the real world.

"I can't exactly do that since there's nowhere else to sit," Damian replied, sounding smug about it. There were people standing, clinging onto the poles and dangly things for balance. Why couldn't he just stand? It'd be easier for the both of us.

I decided to ignore him, no matter what. I was usually good at concentrating, and I just wanted to let Sheikh Ghamdi's melodic voice pronounce the holy words of the Quran into my ear, because there was nothing better than that.

"Hey, Damian, come join us in the back!" I heard Felix call from behind me in his booming voice. He was a friend of Damian's since Year Seven. I shuddered, remembering that dreadful year. It had been the first year I started wearing the hijab, and I truly felt alien to this public school of non-Muslims. You may be thinking – why didn't I just go to an Islamic School? The only problem was, the nearest Islamic school was known for a bad reputation, and the others were either too far or too expensive. My parents figured that it didn't matter where we got our education, as long as we got one, and as long as it was financially convenient – meaning, cheap. Our school wasn't bad or anything, it was a good school, but it wasn't the best, if you know what I mean.

Beside me, Damian shook his head. "Nah, man, it's too crowded. We're nearly there, anyway."

I grimaced. We weren't nearly there, there were still ten minutes left. Meaning, I had to put up with Damian's presence beside me for ten minutes.

"Oh, come on, Damian, just push through!" Felix yelled. He was always yelling. "I'll get these little kids out of the way. Oi, you, make room for the king!" I inwardly groaned. King? Really?

Thankfully, Damian picked up his bag (so he did carry a bag to school, what a shocker) and squeezed through the kids standing around. I knew how awkward it was to get past on a moving bus filled with people, but Damian made it look easy. Of course, with his reputation, he made everything look easy.

I breathed a sigh of relief, plopping my bag beside me in order to ward off any unwanted visitors. Peace at last.

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