True Colors Revealed

Chapter 10

Hey guys i just started junior year of high school so ill be really busy just a heads up if im late at updating but ill try my best not to be

Amat's POV

The final bell rang and I made my way to my locker. After swapping books, I kept an eye out for Susanna, but I didn't see her anywhere. I wandered around this large school, which I still get lost in, until I found the exit. Susanna and I didn't pick a meeting place, so I hoped I would find her soon. Maybe it would be easier for her to find me, as half of the school were blonde girls who dressed in skinny jeans and designer tops, while I was the only hijabi.
True to my thoughts, I heard Susanna call me a minute later. I turned around and spotted her waving to me from the parking lot. I made my way over where she was standing next to a brand new black BMW.
"Hey Amatuallah, we didn't decide on a meeting spot," she said. "I guess that was pretty stupid huh? Anyway, I'm glad I found you. Ready to go?"
"Yep," I nodded and she unlocked the car. I wasn't a big fan of fancy cars, but her family must've had money to get her a car like this. Mashallah! The ride to her home was short, and we got there quickly.
"Hey sweetie, how was school?" Susanna's mom planted a kiss on her head as we walked in.
"Mom! You are so embarrassing!" she exclaimed. "Mom, this is Amatuallah."
Her mom looked me over, and then raised an eyebrow. "Welcome."
"Thanks for having me over," I smiled brightly and shook her warm hand.
"You're welcome, dear," she said, a flicker of nervousness in her eyes.
"Come on Amatuallah, let's go up to my room," Susanna asked me.
"Do you need help with anything before I go up?" I asked her, and Susanna rolled her eyes.
"No thank you," she said. "I don't need your help right now. But Susanna, if you would please just take the laundry basket at the foot of the stairs up to my room that would be great. And please, remove your stuff from the hallway."
"No way. that's not my job," she said. "And I'll pick up my stuff later. When I need it, I'll get it. Come on Amatuallah."
"Oh Susanna," her mother sighed, but Susanna paid her no heed.
I followed Susanna to the foot of the stairs. "Um, you go up. I'll be right behind you, okay?"
"Sure," she said, and then hollered, "Mom! Bring Amatuallah and me a few snacks and drinks! Bring them up to my room now!"
After Susanna went up the stairs, I put Susanna's shoes neatly by the door and then picked up her school bag. I heaved that up, along with the laundry basket. I carried her bag to her bedroom door, and put the basket at the top of the stairs, as I didn't know which room was her mom's room and I didn't want to pry. Then, I went back down to the kitchen.
"Mrs. Wilson?" I asked politely and she turned around. "I can bring up the snacks for you."
"Well, I have a pitcher of lemonade ready and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Will that do?" she asked.
"That's perfect," I said. "Thanks."
"Here. You can take the cookies up. I'll carry the cups and the pitcher," she said.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes dear," she said, and we both went upstairs.
"Oh there you are Amatuallah," Susanna said as we walked in. "Cookies? That's the best you could do, Mom? And couldn't you have gotten us soda, not lemonade?"
"I'm perfectly fine with lemonade," I said, especially because I knew she just made it now. "Thanks Mrs. Wilson. I'm sure they taste as good as they look and smell."
"You're welcome," she said, relieved. "If you need anything else, let me know."
After she left, I turned to Susanna. "Um Susanna, maybe you should be just a little nicer to your mom. She did so much for you, after all."
"No. she just gets in my way all the time and is always nagging me about something," she rolled her eyes.
"I think she is just tired and wants you to help her out sometimes," I suggested.
"That's not my job," Susanna said. "Anyway, forget about my mom. Let's get started on our homework. Unless you want to do something else."
"No that's fine," she assured me. "Oh I almost forgot to ask you! I didn't see Amy in school today. Did you?"
"No," she said, her face darkened. "I guess she was absent."
"Do you know why?" I asked.
"No," she shook her head.
"What if she's sick? Why don't you check on her?" I proposed.
"Why?" she asked, confused.
"To make sure she's okay," I told her. "She is your friend, after all."
"Maybe," she muttered.
"I'll see," she mumbled, and I saw that she didn't want to talk about this.
"I'm sorry to interfere," I said slowly. "I didn't think it would upset you."
"No it's okay," she said. "We got into a fight, and it just would be weird if I went over."
"You know, my prophet had a similar thing happen to him," I shared. "He had a neighbor who wasn't Muslim and he hated the prophet a lot. Every day, he used to throw trash at the doorstep of the Prophet, just to show his hatred. The prophet used to simply clean it up and not say anything about it to his neighbor. One day, he found no trash and this puzzled him because he expected it every day. So, he asked around and found out that his neighbor was sick. The prophet went to visit him, despite his neighbor's negative feelings towards him. I'm not saying that Amy is mean; I think she's a great person really. The moral of the story is to do the right thing, and to not fight evil with evil. Always be the better person, you know?"
"Yeah I get it," she said. "But it would be so awkward if I went."
"Don't make it awkward," I responded. "Show her that you are still a good friend and that you aren't mad at her, even if you are."
"But the fight was partially my fault, though I still think I'm right," she pointed out.
"That's fine. Show her that despite you two not agreeing, you still love her as your friend and care about her," I said.
"Well then, let's go right now," she said. "I'll chicken out if I go later on, I know it."
"Now?" I asked, and my face grew white.
"Yeah, come with me," she begged.
"Um... I... listen," I stuttered. "I don't want to cause problems. And Amy..."
"Yeah I get you," she said sheepishly. "She is so mean sometimes. I'm sorry."
"Practice what you preach, you little jerk!" a voice came from the hallway.
"Scott!" she yelled. "Stop! she can do whatever she wants! Go back to your room, like you promised me you would the whole time she was here!"
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," he said through the door. "Who knows how many tricks she ahs up her sleeve?"
"I'm so sorry about my brother," she apologized to me. "Ignore him. You don't have to go."
"No he's right," I said slowly. "I'll go. How far away is her house?"
"Right next door," she said, and I laughed.
"How ironic! Okay then, let's go," I decided.
"Should we take a plate of cookies for her?" Susanna inquired.
"Good idea!" I beamed.
Ignoring Scott, who still stood in the hallway, we grabbed a plate of cookies and made our way next door.
"What do you want?" Amy glared at me when she answered the door.
I gulped, but before I could reply, Susanna beat me to it.
"Hey Amy!" she chirped. "I hope you aren't sick."
Amy eyed her suspiciously. "No, I'm not."
Good," she smiled. "Here. We brought you cookies."
"Are they poisonous?" she asked. "I mean, since SHE is with you and all."
"Amy, don't be rude!" Susanna chastised.
"Whatever." She flipped her hair. "So Susanna, you want to come in?"
"I don't know, is Amatuallah invited?" she challenged.
"It's okay Susanna," I said. "You can go ahead."
"No terrorists allowed," she informed us.
Susanna gasped and I cringed, trying not to cry.
"Amy Jefferson, you are the rudest person I know!" Susanna yelled, and Amy jumped back, surprised with her friends outburst.
Without giving her a chance to reply, Susanna grabbed my hand and dragged me to her house.
"Oh Susanna," her mom said as we walked in. "Just in time for dinner."
She had made salmon, green vegetables, and mashed potatoes. "I made it just for you, Amatuallah, since I know you can't eat meat."
"Thanks so much," I smiled brightly, sliding into a seat between Susanna and her mom. "I'm sure everything tastes as good as it smells."
Just then, Scott and his father walked into the room and sat down.
"Hey everyone," Mr. Wilson said. "And who's this?"
"Amatuallah," Susanna introduced me. "My friend."
"Welcome," he said, extending his hand to me.
I blushed and I placed my hand on my chest. "Um, I can't shake hands with men. It's part of my religion, you see."
Scott gagged at that, but his father just smiled. "No worries."
I raised my hands to make a my dua and whispered it quietly.
"What are you doing?" Scott asked.
"Making a small prayer," I answered. "Before I do anything, I always have to say bismillah, or in the name of Allah. I also add another prayer that basically means: Oh God bless for s this food that you have provided for us and save us from Hell fire."
"Kind of like Thanksgiving prayers?" Mr. Wilson asked.
"Yeah," I agreed. "except it is said daily."
"Hmm, that's really interesting," Mrs. Wilson observed. "So tell me about this project that you are working on."
"It's for English class," I explained. "Amy and Michael are also doing it with us. Basically, we are doing a book report on The Odyssey in a creative way."
"I loved that book," Mr. Wilson commented. "So you just moved to the neighborhood, right?"
"Yes," I replied.
"What do you your parents do for a living?" he inquired.
"My mom is a nurse, though she isn't working right now, and my dad is a professor at NYU."
"Really? I would love to meet them one day," he said thoughtfully.
"I'm sure they would love to meet you too," I assured them and they smiled. It was evident that they really liked me, but Scott acted quite the opposite.
"Do you have any siblings?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
"I have an older brother who is married and my mom is pregnant with a girl," I said.
"Really? When is she due?" Susanna peppered.
"In about a month or so."
"That's so cool!" she squealed. "I've always wanted a younger sister."
"Yeah, I'm pretty excited," I admitted.
"Sorry Susanna, but your hints are going to be ignored," Mr. Wilson said with a chuckle.
"Two kids are more than enough," Mrs. Wilson agreed.
Just then, Scott started to cough violently and he spit out all the food that was in his overflowing mouth. Since I sat across from him, it all landed on me. Spit dribbled down my face and my clothes were covered with bits of chewed up food.
"Scott!" Mrs. Wilson scolded.
"Sorry Mom," he gasped. "I was choking." He coughed again for emphasis.
Immediately, her face softened. "Are you okay?"
"Yes he is," Susanna rolled her eyes. "He was just faking."
"What?" Scott feigned shock. "I was not!"
"You totally were," Susanna shot back as she handed me napkins.
"Stop it, you two! Susanna, your older brother could have been seriously hurt. Stop admonishing him," Mr. Wilson ordered.
"Whatever," Susanna muttered. "Come on Amatuallah. Let's go get you cleaned up."
"Thanks once again for the wonderful food," I stood up. "It was amazing."
"Oh no you don't," Susanna warned. "Leave those plates right where they are. Mom will take care of them."
"No, it's fine," I said and hurried to the kitchen.
"You are going to wash them too?" she groaned. "Why?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Out of respect, maybe."
"Ok fine," she said. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go pick out an outfit for you. You can't stay in those soiled clothes."
"No, no," I said. "No offense or anything, but I have to dress a certain way and I don't think you have the right clothes."
"Well, it won't hurt to check," she pointed out and then rushed to her room while I did the dishes quickly.
Then, I made my way to the stairs, but as I reached the top, I suddenly tripped over something and went sprawling down the stairs. Hearing the noise, Susanna came out to investigate.
"What is going on?" she glared at her brother, hands on her hips. He stood laughing at the top of the banister.
"I just tripped," I said. "But I'm okay."
"Scott, what did you do?" she asked him angrily.
"Drop it Susanna. Please," I pleaded, coming up the stairs. "What happened isn't important. All that matters is that I'm okay."
Susanna looked at me for a minute and then sighed. "Okay, Susanna."
Glad, I followed her into her room. We settled down on her bed, leaning against the headboard. Susanna was casually skimming through a magazine.
"So how did you like my family?" Susanna asked.
"You're family is so nice. I'm sure my parents would really like them," I said.
"Well, if your parents are anything like you, they must be amazing," she smiled.
"Aww thanks!" I gave her a hug.
"So Amatuallah, I'm really sorry about Scott's behavior," she said. "I know he makes you feel nervous."
"No, it's fine," I said. "Yes, he does make me nervous, but I don't get upset by him. It might sound weird to you, I have my reasons for saying that. First, he is your brother, and because of that, I know he's not really going to hurt me. Besides, you're my friend and I trust you. In Islam, trust is an important thing, and so are maintaining good relationships with others. I know a lot of people think Muslims are bad and that they hate us, and I don't really blame them. They believe what they hear from the media, but the problem is, not everything the media says is true. I wish people would take the opportunity and get to know the real Islam before judging us based on the media's views. Just because we dress differently than others and we don't date or drink doesn't mean we are bad. Everything on our religion is just there so we could be protected and to make us happy."
"How does it protect you?" she questioned. "I don't get it."
"Well, here's an example," I patiently explained. "We don't date because a lot of bad things could happen from it. That's also why us girls don't shake hands with boys. You might think it's an innocent handshake, but one thing will lead to another. First a glance, then a handshake, then a few words, then flirting, then secret meetings, and so on until the worst has happened. That boy can just be a player or he can get you pregnant and then disappear, leaving you to deal with the consequences. That's why we just wait for the right person to come and eventually get married to them."
"Oh that makes sense. I never thought about it that way," she thought out loud. Then her eyes widened and she leaned in. "Um, what do you think about eavesdropping?"
"Well, there is an aya, like, a verse, in our Quran about this. Let me get you the exact translation, okay? Got it! It says, 'And do not spy and backbite each other.' That pretty much clarifies our view on it, but I'll emphasize. When you are eavesdropping, you're listening into someone's private conversation that they might not want others to hear," I told her.
Susanna was quiet for a minute and then she whispered, "Scott was eavesdropping. I asked you about it hoping he would take the hint and leave, and he did!"
After an hour, I looked at the clock and realized how late it was. I was sure my parents were beginning to worry about me, and I just realized my phone was dead. I gathered my stuff and walked to the door with Susanna, after thanking her mom again for the food and the visit. Just as I said goodbye to Susanna and opened the door, I realized it was pouring rain outside.
"Oh Amatuallah, you can't walk in this rain!" Susanna cried.
"It's okay. My house isn't that far," I said.
"Don't leave," she said, paying me no mind. "I'll go call Scott and he can drive us. Don't worry. I'll come too."
Grumbling, her brother came and got into the car. "Listen, I was supposed to drop something off at my friend's house and it's like super important. So I'm going to do that first."
"It's fine," I said. "Thanks."
We were on the road for like half an hour before I realized that Susanna had fallen asleep. Trying not to mind the awkward silence, I tried to focus on making thikr. Then, the car suddenly stopped.
"Okay," Scott said quietly. "You can get out now."
I looked outside the window. It was raining harder than before. "Where are we?"
"Far away from your home, that's where," he sneered. "Now hurry up and get out. Be glad I didn't drop you off farther. Now hurry up!"
I stared at him for a minute. I thought about shaking Susanna awake, but instead, I slowly slipped out of the car. I barely got a chance to grab my stuff and close the door before he drove away. Slowly, I watched his car drive away, and decided that following his car might be the best way for me to get home. Unfortunately, his car was too fast and I quickly lost sight of it. I continued walking in that direction, hoping for the best. While I walked, I made a little prayer.
"Oh Allah, you are the best Lord. I glorify You and pray to You. You deserve all my worship and I seek forgiveness from You. Oh Allah, please forgive my sins. Oh Allah, please make this last month easy on my mom and deliver my sister safely. Oh Allah, please make my life in the new town easy for me. Oh Allah, please accept from me what is good and help me to do good. Please grant me patience and help me when I deal with those who hate me. Oh Allah, these are trying times for the Ummah, so please make this easy on us. Give me strength to overcome those who hate Your religion and Your guidance. Oh Allah, Susanna seems like a good person and so do her family. Please guide them to the right path. Please guide them to Your light. Oh Allah, help me have courage and help me find my way home. Oh Allah, please don't let me die in this heavy, cold rain. Oh allah, please make this easy for me. You are the only one who can help me, so please help me, oh Savior. Oh Allah, you are the Answerer of Prayers so please answer my dua. I ask you to send peace and blessings upon my beloved prophet, and Praise be to You, the Lord of the Worlds."
I tried not to cry as I hurried along helplessly. After fifteen minutes, a car stopped by next to me. Looking at it, I realized it was Scott. He rolled down his window. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead," I answered.
"Why are you still trying to get home if it is hopeless?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"When one has Allah by their side, one never loses hope," I said and stood up taller, braver.
"So, your God is going to send an angel to show you the way?" he laughed.
"No," I said. "He will help me in ways I would've never thought of. All I have to do is my part and leave the res to Allah."
Just then, a car pulled up in front of Scott. Because of Scott's headlights, I could see it was a police car. An officer came out and walked towards me.
"Young lady, is this man over here bothering you?" he asked.
"Um no," I replied slowly. "I'm alright."
"We're fine officer," Scott gave him a huge grin, then turned to me. "Come on. You can walk in this rain. Get it. I'll give you a lift."
The police man narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust you. Show me your license." He looked at it briefly. "Well, nothing looks wrong here, but I still don't trust you. Young lady, where do you live?"
I gave him the address and he whistled. "Wow, that's far! It's too dangerous for you to be out walking alone, especially in the dark. There's a rapist on the loose here, in case you didn't know. Don't forget about this crazy weather. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. And you mister, get yourself off to where you need to be."
"She lives near me," Scott started, but the officer stopped him.
"No, you are not taking her anywhere," he said. "Now get a move on!"
Defeated, Scott rolled up his window and drove off. I then followed the officer and got into his car.
"Sir? Could you please just drop me off at the local library? It's only a block away from my house and I need to get a few things." Also, I added silently, my parents would worry if they saw me come out a of a police car.
"Of course," he said.

Definition
Allah: name of god
Duaa: prayer

Pic of person making duaa above