The Badboy, the Catfish & Me

Twenty-Two

I barely reached a closed stall when an unearthly sob came out of my throat. For the past four years, I had spent hours sitting at my desk, choosing books over texting, school over everything, just to not get valedictorian.

I grabbed the edges of my hijab and let out another cry. Was it because of that one precalculus quiz? Did that one mistake cost me the title of valedictorian? Was Allah punishing me for lying to Valentino and being overly friendly with him? I didn't need my Polaroid to have this moment etched in my life.

What was everyone going to think? My parents. Valentino. My friends. They all expected me to be valedictorian, too.

Why was everything in my life going wrong?

Spitting out the saliva in my mouth into the toilet, I clawed my knees. "Get it together, Inaya. Get it together," I scolded myself, leaning back into the maroon stall door. My eyes were closed and my brain was running harder than my heart. "Be grateful. It's still an award. Everyone will be happy to hear about it."

It took another minute for me to open my eyes and slide open the lock. I walked to and bent over the sink to splash some water over my face. I grabbed the rough, brown paper towels and wiped myself before exiting the bathroom. If any other girl was there, witnessing my breakdown, I didn't notice.

Out of the building, I stopped to text my group chat about the news and ignored the summer sun's heat that was quickly pooling into sweat beneath my hijab and armpits. I hoped my friends would be okay with me taking second place. Putting my phone away, I headed for the spot Baba parked nowadays to pick me up.

"Inaya!"

I stopped my brisk walk. I turned around to see Clara rush over. She was in a pastel blue sheer blouse and white shorts, and the sunlight hit her hair in just the right way. Clara was so pretty, and she'd look even prettier in a prom dress with the backdrop of a dance floor behind her, leaning against Valentino with his arm around her waist—my hand curled into a fist at my side. The thought made me sad and angry all at the same time.

"I know this is a little awkward," she said, smiling, "but prom is in a few days—and I saw you with Valentino this morning." There was a hint of bitterness in Clara's voice, although the smile hadn't left her face. "The two of you were talking about something."

"Okay?" I forgot there was no privacy to our conversations at school.

Her tanned cheeks were rosy with blush, and her voice was slightly shaky, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity. I already knew this conversation wasn't going to end well.

"So," Clara hesitated. "Did Valentino ask you to be his prom date?"

I stared, speechless. Even after my flakiness, he still didn't ask Clara to prom. Or Elsa or Jamie.

"He hangs around you a lot," Clara ventured.

"Even if Valentino asked me, I still wouldn't go," I said, trying to maintain a casual expression although a storm was brewing in my chest. Salah had made it clear he wanted to ask me out at first. And later, he asked Tireya to spend prom night with him.

"Oh, really?" Clara's eyes widened, but she recovered with a blink. "You don't like him?"

"It's not that simple for me. I don't think you'd understand." I turned away, hoping to escape before the crowd of exiting students included Elsa or Jamie.

I remembered Annok's words. You're full of secrets, Inaya. And they were eating me alive.

"Well, I might if you explained."

At that, I stopped. "Well, it's sorta against my religion if I go. If I did, it wouldn't be with a boy. It's none of your business anyway," I blurted out before I could think any better. A car drove past us, scattering a dried-up leaf between us. "Well, I've got to go. Bye."