Behind Her Hijab | ✓

6| The Big Box

"Bismillah," I murmured, which was a small citation used by Muslims before taking on any task.

I sat down, and the girls began to whisper and giggle with each other. One black-haired girl even began to point her finger towards me, which was something my parents taught me never to do.

"I like the shirt!" I tried telling one girl.

"We like your bald cap," they said with a strange type of grin on their faces.

"Thank you," I grinned.

But the girls started to laugh, and I wasn't sure why. I had thanked them for their compliment, whatever it was. But maybe everything Muslims said was funny to an American.

I sighed, and fix my eyes towards my inedible burger, thoughts to myself.

I wasn't hungry, but I wasn't happy either. I wanted to feel like I belonged, and I'd never left like this before. I felt like an absolute outsider. I felt like nobody wanted me here.

I felt like there was a box, a big box, and all of these girls were in this box, maybe even the whole world was in this box. But I was the lone girl, standing outside of the box, unable to find a way to get in. I was a loner, a loser, a failure, an underachiever, a disappointment, an incompetent. I was a nobody.

A loud bell rang, and everyone suddenly began to race out of the cafeteria. I slowly began to follow a loud crowd of people towards a door with math symbols on its doors.

Geometry. At least there was one subject I was good at here.

I had always dreamed of working in the science and math work field, just like my father. But sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to the same kinds of work men did.

I walked into the geometry class, and before I could look around, someone, or something tugged on my arm, and then quickly pulled me out of the classroom.

"You have had your classes changed." a tall teacher said, leading me out of the hall, and into a different classroom, but this classroom had nothing hanging on its door, and it didn't look nearly as fun as the last class.

"This is Mr. Glover, our algebra two teacher," she said pointing towards an old man standing in front of a dry erase board.   

"But my class is geometry," I said, hesitating.

"Yes, but you have shown us your skills are far beyond the mathematic level of geometry." the teacher explained.

What? When? Where? Why? How?

I examined the classroom, unsure of what to think. I sat down and started to answer the question on the board, even though it didn't quite make sense.

Everyone in the algebra two class didn't look familiar to me, and none of them seemed to be in any of my other classes.

Mr. Glover stood up, and looked towards the class, "You have your test today, good luck."

My jaw dropped. "What?!"

At least that was one thing I knew how to say.