Journal of a Teenage Muslim.

Chapter 4 - Not Exactly Shopping.

I got home from school and sat to do my maths home work when I realised my calculator battery had died. I put on my heavy black winter jacket and woolly cotton gloves than headed off to the mall nearby, hoping some store there would sell calculators.

I was just about to enter the mall when I saw a girl who looked at least three years younger than me sitting next to the glass sliding entrance doors, I looked around wondering where her parents were, but she looked completely alone. I looked at her again, this time more carefully, she was shivering, she barely had anything on and the winter was chilling, I was wearing a heavy coat and I was still cold! Her hair was tangled like it hadn't been combed in a very long time and her knees were pressed tightly up to her chest, so that she could keep warm. Why was no one going to help her? People just walked past her like it was nothing, were they really that blind?

I went to her, 

"What's your name?" I asked, she didn't reply, she was too cold and tired, I took off my coat and gave it to her, the minute I took it off I felt the cold chilling me to my bones. I gave her my wool scarf I had around my neck as well.

"Hold on," I told her, than rushed into the mall and bought a cup of hot chocolate from the Tim Horton's near the entrance than rushed back and gave it to her, I could see she was warming up a little. "Come," I told her, she got up to follow me.

As soon as we entered the house, I turned up the heating.

"Thank you," The girl said, she had such a beautiful soft voice.

"Are you warmer now?" I asked.

She nodded.

"You must be hungry!" I suddenly realised.

"Oh yes!" She nodded eagerly. I quickly grabbed everything from the cabinets, all the finger foods, cheerios, crisps, nuts..

After she had eaten, she looked much brighter, it turned out she was eleven, exactly three years younger than me. Her eyes were huge and a charcoal grey color, her hair was a soft golden shade and her skin was fair as ever. 

"Why were you all by yourself?" I asked.

"I don't know," She said.

"You mean you were there for ever?" 

"No, I don't think so," She said, half in thought, " I can't remember much,"

"You must have amnesia," I supposed.

"I guess," She sighed, "But I do remember my name, it's Azalea,"

"It sounds beautiful," I said,

"It's some sort of flower, I remember a voice saying that," 

We were in my bedroom and I had just given Azalea a pair of my warmest pajamas and wrapped her up in all my blankets and quilts.

"Are you still hungry?" I asked her, still concerned.

"No, I've never been so full!" She smiled happily.

I really liked her, there was something different in her, I don't know what, but there was something in her..

"You're so nice," She gleamed. "Not a single person who walked past those entrance doors have thought about looking twice, apart from you. What's your name?"

"Maydah," I told her.

"What does it mean?"

"Beautiful," I replied.

"The name suits you," She smiled, "You are very beautiful,"

I smiled back at her, she was so nice, I so wanted her to find her parents, she really deserved to be with them.

"Can you remember anything about your parents? Maybe their names?" I asked her.

"No, nothing," She said hopelessly,

"Don't worry, it will come to you," I assured her.

"What about you? What's your mom like?" She asked.

"She died," I mumbled, "A long time ago,"

"I-I didn't know.. How did she die?"

"She was working late, and a gang of drunks abused her because of her head gear called a hijab, it got really bad and she passed away."

"Wait," Azalea scrunched her brows, "The head gear, I've heard of it, it means your a muslim!"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"But you can't be! You're so nice!" She exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"You know, you people are kind of bad guys,"

"Oh," I sighed.

"But you're not bad," She said.

"We're not bad," I told her, "It's just that, when ever one of our people does something bad, it's all over the news, but the millions other that do good are never once bought on television, they never bring news on the good, only the bad.. That's what makes the money."

"That makes sense," Azalea agreed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- you know, it's just that, all the talk and everything.."

"Don't worry, how were you supposed to know, right?"

"Yeah.."

Both of us jumped in surprise when we heard the house key turning. My dad was home.. What was I going to tell him?

"Wait here." I told Azalea sharply.