Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 6 - Studious Muslims and Buried Secrets

            I look around me and I see Adam grinning at me from the other side of the partition. I mock glare at him, turning my attention to my phone. I text him back.

Ay loser, thanks for the tip. And I’m not a dork. >.< But hey, they say it takes one to know one.

            As I look up again to see Adam’s reaction, I see that he is looking down at his screen, the left side of his mouth turned up a little higher than his right, his signature smile. I shake my head and walk out to go get my shoes. After two minutes of wondering where I kept my shoes, I realize that they’re by the other door. I sigh and walk around to the other entrance.

            As I walk out, the first thing I see is Nazia and Rubina, Noha’s younger sister, laughing and carrying huge aluminum trays filled with food. I look over at the tables; today we seem to be having Arab food with a touch of North African cuisine, and an Indian/Pakistani dish or two. I grin and shake my head. The dinner menus are ever-changing. If you went to the masjid every night for a week, you could guarantee that you would have food from five different regions of the world in seven days’ time.

            I enter the kitchen and see my old Sunday school teacher, Sister Noor, handing a tray to one of the guys, who will be taking that tray to the men’s tent. The men and women eat separately at mosque parties such as these. There is little interaction between the genders.

            I walk up to Sister Noor and take a tray that she has just picked up from the table. I wince; it is slightly on the heavy side.

            “Maysa, how’s my favorite former student doing?” she asks, happy to see me.

            Before I can respond, I hear Noha behind me exclaiming, “Hey, I thought I was your favorite former student!”

            Sister Noor has a teasing look about her, and she fakes looking caught saying something she shouldn’t have. “Er…well, you are both my favorite former students…just for different reasons.”

            I teasingly grin. “Oh yeah? And just what are those reasons?”

            Sister Noor says, “Well, Noha, you always were the one who was more concerned with getting to class on time, unlike Miss Maysa over here.” She shoots me a teasing look. Ok, well, that’s sort of true, but even though I wasn’t as concerned as Noha about punctuality, I always managed to get to class on time. Maybe three minutes late, but that’s still pretty good.

            “And why do you love me Sister Noor?” I ask. I bat my eyelashes at her and make my eyes wide in an attempt to look innocent. Sister Noor honestly looks like she can’t think of anything.

            I laugh; I’m honestly not insulted. I know that I’m not exactly a model student, unlike Noha. “Maysa, you were always…questioning.” She finally says.

            “Questioning? Seriously? What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Asking questions is a good thing! And you did that very well. It made up for everything else you weren’t good at.” I huff, but I’m only pretending. I respect and love Sister Noor too much to take personal offence to what she says.

After our little talk, Sister Noor proceeds in getting me and Noha to carry out more food and set up. We finally finish getting ready fifteen minutes later, and after Noha and I get food from the buffet-style selection, we sink into chairs and dig in to the falafel made by the Arab aunties and the mouth-watering biryani made by the Desi ones. God, this is my heaven on Earth.