Seventeen

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The next morning, I trudged out of the kitchen and slugged my backpack over my shoulder. I passed by the living room and would have kept going had it not been for Mama.

"Inaya?" she said, folding a prayer mat. She was wearing her prayer hijab, too. "Did you get your lunch?"

I turned back and went to the glass bowl of pasta and pink lunchbox sitting on the kitchen island. I hoped my mom hadn't seen the tiredness on my face. Because of a CrusadEon tournament, I had to stay up late to study for the last English test today.

"And before you go, I told your baba to start picking you up from school when he can. It's too hot for you to inhale all that bus exhaust."

"That'll be nice," I said over my shoulder. "Did you check on the air conditioning or whatever caused the smell?" I scrunched my nose as I recalled the foul odor.

"It's been...two weeks since you first mentioned it? I think the smell should be gone by now. But if you're still worried, maybe it's just the smell of your baba's shoes or something? He sometimes works in stinky places, and the car floor gets stained."

"That could be it," I headed for the door. "I'm going now. Bye, Mama! Love you!"

"Okay, Inaya. I love you more, kiddo."

After parking outside the school building, Baba told me he'd pick me up at around two. I nodded and stepped out of the car. I caught sight of Valentino walking toward the school. I put a slight spring in my step to catch up with him. As I caught his eyes, we exchanged a smile.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, opening the door for me.

"Good! Thanks," I said while observing him. He was tanner now, undoubtedly from all those soccer practices in the summer sun. "Today's not one of those additional-class days?"

"Nope," Valentino chuckled a little. "I was getting tired of them, anyway."

As we walked into homeroom, Valentino went right to his desk and took his phone out. I went to my locker to put away my lunch and sat beside him. But his eyes were still glued to his screen, and I bit my lip, looking away. This was the first time we had time to talk, but Valentino seemed like he didn't mind not talking to me all that much anymore.

But I knew why. It's because he likes Tireya. He won't talk to me the way he did before he met her. I fidgeted with the end of my hijab, rubbing the fabric through my fingers. I didn't know whether to feel upset or flattered by that.

Thankfully, a conversation between Salah and Ameena behind me was enough to break the awkwardness. I promptly turned around to join their conversation.

"My mom is un-be-lievable," Salah groaned. "She expects me to arrive before three because a plumber is coming to our home to fix our leaking pipes. But how am I supposed to get home by then? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that amazing to be able to fly, you know. Ugh, I'll just text her and tell her to reschedule the plumber to visit on the weekend."

"What about any relatives?" Ameena asked. "My mom usually asks for my nani's help for those kinds of things. She's super tough. Feels safer, too, to have another adult when we're letting strangers into the house."

Salah and Inaya knew the word nani had to mean maternal grandmother because Urdu and Bangla had similar words. In Bangla, the word for maternal grandmother was nanu.

"All my close relatives live outside New York, or my parents would've asked them for help," Salah said. "Besides, the plumber is my mom's distant cousin, so he's not really a stranger. But still, I need to be home to show him where the pipe leaks and everything."

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