Eid Mubarak Every one!!! For those of you who know arabic كل عام وانتم بخير.. For those who don't, the direct translation is 'all the years and you'll be ok'.. Umm I don't know how exactly to put it in words that make sense in english but basically it means you'll be good for all the years to come.. Excuse my messed up translation skills!
Ok, I'll stop writing tons and let you get on with the chap ;)
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I got ready for court early Monday morning. I had been excused from school the whole day seeing as Mr Crookshank didn't want to arouse any suspician.
I wore a long black skirt, long sleeved white t-shirt and a black scarf. Mrs Ketsopolis warned me not to wear anything to colourful and to be formal so I wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.
"Ready?" Dad asked grabbing his car keys from the kitchen counter as he finished his last sips of coffee.
I nodded, unable to talk, my voice seemed to have disappeared in my nervousness.
"You sure you don't want to eat anything?" He asked concerned.
I nodded again.
"Well, why don't you take this just in case you get hungry on the way." Dad said taking out a peanut butter sandwich which was already in the ziplock. I guess he had packed it last night knowing I wouldn't eat in the morning. I was surprised at how well he knew me!
We sat in the car in silence as I stared into the rear mirror.. There were two things bugging me. One being the most obvious was that I was completely, utterly terrified of public speaking and now they expected me to speak in front of the whole court room filled with people I've never seen or known. And the second was.. Would I turn in Zeke?
"Do you know what you are going to say?" Dad asked as if reading my mind.
I looked at Dad hopelessly. "I was hoping you could tell me?"
"I'm sorry kid," Dad said wistfully, "But you have to say what you think is right,"
"But I don't know what's right,"
"The truth is what's right, your beliefs are what's right, what matter to you is what's right, what you strongly think is what's right," Dad said. "Does that help?"
"Not really.. Sort of... Dad how do you know what I think is right? What if what I think is wrong?"
"You're a smart girl Maydah, that's how I know what you really think is right," Dad praised.
"You think I'm smart Dad?" I smiled.
"You're my daughter, I know you're smart," He grinned.
We reached the court at least half an hour early. Mrs Ketsopolis was already there waiting to take us in. We had to go through security to enter the courthouse. Mrs Ketsopolis had to put her purse through an X-ray scanner and Dad had to empty his pockets. I had nothing on me so I was allowed to go past the security first, than the police on guard let Dad and Mrs Ketsopolis through.
We than went to the front foyer (entrance area) and met with Mrs Ketsopolis's lawyer.
"Good morning, I'm Tom Lake," He introduced himself. "You all set?"
Mrs Ketsopolis nodded.
"Great, I just checked the notice on the board to confirm our court room," He told us. "We're on the bottom floor."
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Teenage Muslim.
Teen FictionMaydah Ahmad was never a normal girl. Ever since she was a young girl, it was clear to tell she was made for something bigger, something better.. But than her mother died, leaving Maydah and her father to cope on their own. After that her life was n...
