On Monday, the mood of the entire school was electric. We had finished our exams for the semester, and now all that was left were tomorrow's final graduation rehearsals, prom Wednesday night, and the graduation ceremony the following Monday. College acceptance letters would be rolling in, too.
At homeroom, at the end of the day, the classroom was packed for once. Being the last homeroom of the year, it was mandatory for students to attend. I was emptying the last of my locker when Salah and Ameena walked in.
"Hey!" I greeted them.
But Salah only exclaimed, "Ugh, I hate being the oldest!" She stopped in front of me to text someone aggressively.
Ameena and I shared a look.
"What do you have to do this time?" Ameena raised an eyebrow at our friend in a floral orange hijab.
"I have to pick up Sumaiya and Ayan from school today because my mom wants to go shopping, and then I have to make them lunch and then pick up Addan from soccer practice."
I shoved my hands into my dress pockets, thoughtful at the mention of younger siblings. "I think I'd like having a sibling," I said.
Salah's look of anguish disappeared, and her eyes brightened with possibility.
"You can take them! I've got plenty for you to choose from, too. A six-year-old, an eight-year-old and an eleven-year-old!"
Ameena and I laughed.
When the amusement faded, I added, "Y'know, I actually had a younger sibling."
"Had?" Salah echoed. It was her turn to exchange a worried glance with Ameena.
"Yeah. My dad told me recently about it." I bit her bottom lip, unsure of how much to tell them. "I don't remember ever meeting her. I was three when she...died."
Ameena frowned. "It's sad to lose a baby. I wouldn't want to remember."
"Me either," Salah said.
"Neither," I corrected.
"Huh?"
"The proper phrase is 'me neither.' I was correcting your grammar," I said.
"Okay, Ms. Serious, we know you're also Ms. Salutatorian," Salah huffed.
"So, you guys...this might sound weird," Ameena interrupted. Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper. "But you know how kids are made, right?"
"Unfortunately," Salah rolled her eyes.
I asked that question when I was ten, climbing up a hill in the Grand Canyon on our guided tour. When I'd asked Baba about it, he made a weird noise—a mix between an "oh no" and an "ask your mama," but it came out as "oh mama"—before promptly tripping over his feet. He nearly fell off the edge of the 50-foot-high trail if the tour guide hadn't caught him. Later that night, Mama had a talk with me while Baba was cooking dinner.
"Yeah," I answered sheepishly.
Ameena scrunched up her nose. "Well, I think I'm going to be an older sister."
I lost my initial embarrassment. Ameena's asking of the question was just an awkward segue.
"Think? You can't tell if your mom's got a big belly or what?" Salah raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I said, think because she's only been acting strangely. She's not eating certain things, gets overly emotional, going to the doctors a lot."
I thought for a moment. Mama acted like that sometimes because of her past.
"It could be anything," I said. "Maybe she's acting up because you'll leave when you're married?"
"Oh." Ameena stared blankly.
Mrs. Asaka walked into the room and went straight to the front to start attendance. I couldn't help but feel a pang of coldness noticing the empty seat beside me. Did the boys still have soccer practice, even when the last game of the year was already played?
As Mrs. Asaka began her annual goodbye speech, the room was flooded with waves of excitement and also hints of sadness as the students realized that this was one of their final days of high school. Salah immediately bolted out of her seat when Mrs. Asaka finally dismissed the class.
"Bye, girls, talk to you soon, okay? We have each other's numbers, so don't go crying that your wonderful Salah has left you!"
Ameena and I chorused a laugh and waved goodbye. Ameena then stood to go as well. She walked around the desk to give me a hug.
"Bye, Inaya," she said. "I'll let you know what colleges I get accepted into."
"Wait." I didn't let her go. "I convinced my parents I could go to prom," I whispered. She gasped. I released my friend and felt a blush creep up my neck. "Can we go together? I have to go with a girl."
"You should've told me earlier, Inaya! We could've spent some time together shopping for a dress."
I felt my chest pinch at the thought of Ameena wanting to hang out with me outside of school. I'd been so absorbed in school and CrusadEon that I forgot I had friends.
"Don't tell Salah yet. I'll surprise her with pictures. I also have the start of an outfit in my head."
"Well, alright. I'll try not to. Do you want to go there together?"
"If you're going with your fiancé...it might be a bit awkward."
Ameena blushed. "Oh, right. Let's meet there at eight, then. How long are you staying?"
"However long you are? I haven't thought about it."
"Fill me in, okay?"
I nodded and waved at her before settling back into my chair. I didn't know why I lingered since the class was already dismissed. Probably because I was expecting Valentino to walk in through the door at the last minute so I could see him one more time.
Elsa, Jamie, and Clara were still here, too, and as soon as Ameena walked away, Elsa approached me. My stomach lurched.
"So, I heard you can't go to prom because of your religion?" Elsa said.
Not this again.
"That's so weird," she continued, snickering. "Makes me think if it's only a cover-up for something."
"A cover-up?" My eyes narrowed. "For what?"
"Everyone knows Valentino still hasn't asked anyone to prom yet," Jamie cut in. Elsa crossed her arms over her chest, slightly annoyed. "You know something about it, but you're not telling us."
"Yeah, a cover-up for, oh, I don't know," Elsa continued while looking at her lengthy acrylic nails, "maybe to play hard to attract a certain guy's attention?"
I couldn't believe my ears. "That's crazy!"
"C'mon, Inaya," Jamie rolled her eyes. Clara opened her mouth to say something but was talked over. "No way could a religion dictate your life. We all know Ameena is going to prom, and she's Muslim. Salah even posted a message saying she would've gone if it weren't for her parents."
I bristled at the torrent of words. I was able to stand up for myself when I was talking to Clara last week. But with Elsa and Jamie ganging up on me like this, I didn't know what to address first. They were interrogating me about prom, my religion, and my innocence. Plus, Salah had all the smarts to sneak out to prom even without her parents' approval. But she was choosing to listen to them out of respect for them and her religion.
"Girls, is there any trouble?" Mrs. Asaka's sharp voice broke the tension in the air.
I felt my heart soar in relief as she glanced at the mob of three.
"No, Mrs. Asaka. We're just about to leave now," Clara said and herded her friends out of the classroom with eyes that reprimanded them. "Have a good summer!" she added sweetly.
I watched them out and couldn't help but think that Clara might really be a decent girl caught up with the wrong company. But I still felt a bottomless pit churning in my stomach at Elsa and Jamie's accusations. They obviously didn't know I was going to prom, but even if I'd chosen the more religious route and didn't go, it was a choice that didn't deserve to be made fun of. I should've stood my ground against the two. I placed my forearms on my desk and sank into them.
After a moment like this, I stood. I had a Carnival outfit to make.
"See ya, Mrs. Asaka!"
The morning before prom, I put on the slip-on hijab hanging from the coat rack to check the mail. There were three letters in the mailbox: one large, paper-sized envelope for me and two regular-sized ones for Patrick Stonewell. I closed the door behind me, placed the hijab back onto the rack, and waved my parents over.
"Mama! Baba! I got a college letter!" I shouted, plopping on the sofa. "And these are for you, Baba." I handed the remaining mail to my dad. By the sender's name, it looked like it was from a health insurance provider.
"I'm not looking at bills," he grumbled, taking them and placing them on the edge of the low table.
Mama peered over my shoulder, pushing up her glasses as I tore open the mail addressed to me with a frantic heart. The first sentence read,
Dear Inaya O. Muhammad,
After carefully considering your application, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Cornell University's fall semester freshman cohort.
"They accepted me!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. "They accepted me! Cornell!"
I fumbled with her phone to take a picture and send it to my group chat.
"I knew my princess would get in!" Baba exclaimed, running over to engulf me in a celebratory hug.
"Masha'Allah!" Mama agreed, clapping. "I knew you could do it."
When my dad put me down, I went to the room to grab my Polaroid and take a picture of the acceptance letter. My group chat lit up with congratulatory messages and plans for their futures, and moments like these made me grateful that imperfect people could still be blessed.
"Do you have everything ready for prom?" Mama asked.
"Oh? Yeah." I waved the forming photo from the Polaroid. "It starts at eight. I'm meeting my friend Ameena there. I'll call Baba when I want to go home."
My parents nodded. I placed my acceptance letter back into its envelope and returned to my room to finalize the outfit for tomorrow: a bishop-sleeved blouse with palazzo pants in pastel pink and blue. A white hijab and light gold jewelry around my covered head and wrists. For makeup, Mama told her not to do too much, so I settled for bright red eyeliner. A black hand purse would carry my phone, stick of lip gloss, some cash, school ID, and a menstrual pad. Last but not least, I attached a black handle to carry my Polaroid.
As I posed in the mirror, my shoulders slumped. I wasn't sure why, but I felt a cold anxiousness settle deep in me. To distract myself, I took a mirror selfie that covered my face and texted Salah that I'd be going to prom.
👑 Queen Salah 👑: oho look at miss serious
miss salutatorian
miss goodie-two-shoes
now going to prom
it's the making of a music video for a love song
should I write one up for you?
I smiled at the onslaught of messages. It was exactly what I needed to cheer myself up. I replied, I have one already. Love Storm.
The prom venue was a ballroom. From the shotgun seat of Baba's car, I could see the doorman, who doubled as a security guard, checking ID. I didn't need to worry about missing prayers, but I told myself to keep my fun as halal as possible.
"If anyone does something inappropriate," Baba started.
"Scream! Then kick 'em low. Go for the eyes if they got my throat."
"I wish they'd let you bring pepper spray, at least," he lamented.
"Going in saying bismillah might do the trick."
Baba shook his head and sighed. "Okay, get in there and come back out quick before your old man thinks twice."
I nodded and stepped out of the car. The weather was cooler than usual, not sweltering like it was during the day, and I welcomed that. I walked up the pathway and handed security my school ID. I avoided his hard stare at my hijab and rushed inside once he motioned with his hand for me to go in.
The lights overhead changed colors—blues and purples and reds—over the smooth wood of the ballroom dance floor. The switching lights made it difficult for me to scan the crowd properly, though not many students were here yet anyway. I caught sight of some of Annok's friends but no Annok. I raised my Polaroid and clicked. I waved the wet picture for a few seconds before tucking it inside my purse.
Looking up, I noticed someone munching by a long table with cupcakes and mini tacos. He looked familiar, but I didn't know his name. He was probably one of Valentino's friends from the soccer team. Seeing Mrs. Asaka nearby, I strode forward.
"Well!" The woman's bored face animated into shock. "I didn't think I'd see you here."
I smiled, remembering Salah's reaction.
"On chaperone duty?" I asked.
"That's right," Mrs. Asaka answered, crumpling the cupcake wrapper into her small fist.
I glanced around.
"Valentino isn't here yet," Mrs. Asaka continued.
I could've sworn a smirk graced my homeroom teacher's face, making me grateful for the dark lighting to hide my flushed face at the comment.
"I was looking for Ameena," I mumbled, adjusting my hijab. "It's hard to see."
Mrs. Asaka put the wrapper in her purse. "I'm glad my children didn't go to prom."
"They didn't?" I raised my eyebrows. I assumed the only reason someone wouldn't go to prom was if they were Muslim—or single like Baba had been.
She nodded. "That's right. We went to the Rocky Mountains instead. My parents have a little cottage there. Ameena just walked in," Mrs. Asaka added, motioning with her head. She pulled out her phone as I looked over my shoulder, noting my friend had indeed walked in—with a boy beside her. "Have fun, Inaya. I know you won't regret it."
Hopefully.
I nodded and walked closer to wave at Ameena to catch her attention. Ameena was wearing a multicolored Anarkali with downward zig-zag patterns. The guy next to her was a head taller, had deep brown skin, and had no facial hair yet. He was wearing a yellow tuxedo top, a red dress shirt, blue suit pants, a polka dot tie, and brown dress shoes.
When I met up with them, Ameena shouted, "Hey!"
I raised my eyebrows at the girl beaming in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever seen Ameena smile so wide or be this loud before.
"Hi," her prom date said. His eyes shifted like he was nervous.
I smiled a little. "I'm Inaya. Nice to meet you."
"Oh, look! There's a food table." Ameena's eyes were wide, and she clamped her hands around her fiancé's arm. "Want to join us there, Inaya?"
"It's okay. I was going to walk around a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. You guys go ahead."
I watched the couple leave and then shook my head. I didn't realize how awkward it was to be a third wheel.
I walked toward a corner space and leaned against the wall, shifting my Polaroid to my hip so it wouldn't get squished. I adjusted my sleeves to cover my wrists again. With no one near me, I waved my arms in front of me in slow motion, imagining the ballroom was bright with white light and just the sound of flats dancing on the smooth floor. Imagining I was in the arms of someone who loved me.
"I thought you wouldn't be here," a voice said. "Religion and all that."
Suddenly, the blaring music and harsh lighting felt like a soft ambiance when I looked up. I gulped hard at the stunner Valentino was in a suit—even if it was multicolored—and realized he was alone. No Clara at his elbow or Fan Club behind him.
I had to stop myself from replying, "You aren't supposed to be here, either!" He'd told Tireya he wasn't going to prom.
"Who said I can't break rules?" I replied instead. Valentino raised his eyebrows at my statement, and I winced internally. Idiot! He always liked that you were dedicated to the rules! "I mean, I'm not really breaking that many," I rambled. "Dressed modestly and not in a corner, making out with a guy or anything." My face burned. What was I even saying? It was like my mind was broken.
Valentino chuckled a little. "Yeah, you're not."
Even in the terrible lighting, I noticed he was missing his usual flare. Was he still upset over Tireya? That he was going through something, but Tireya wasn't there for him? I balled my hand into a fist, knowing I couldn't ask about any of it without revealing myself. But the part of me that agreed with Mama wanted to confess. It was the right thing to do because it was the one closest to Islam's rules.
I'm Tireya. The two words were on my tongue, halfway past my throat. There was a world of culture that we both were missing out on from our mother's side. One that we could learn about together. But the only way I could do that was if I confessed.
Valentino's brows creased.
I turned my head away, realizing that my face must look strange with a sentence nearly out of my mouth. The rest of me didn't want to risk losing Valentino.
"Sorry, I felt something on my tongue," I said. At least it wasn't a complete lie—more like shallow truth.
"Want me to look?" Valentino offered. Our gazes met, both wide-eyed at what he said. "To see if there was anything...yeah." He looked away.
I felt heat blossom in my chest as it did my cheeks.
"Um, actually, I have to go!" I nearly shouted.
"What?"
My heart pounded in my ears. Why did I just say that? I couldn't back out!
"Yeah, curfew. I've been here a while. I have to leave now. See, it's almost nine."
"Oh, okay. I can walk you back."
I nodded to let him know I was okay with it. I led the way and tried to ignore the few stray glances that stuck. Mrs. Asaka's was one of them. The security guard didn't react as we passed by. I licked my bottom lip. I had to say something or the silence would get too weird.
The back of my hand smacked the Polaroid camera.
"Uh," I started. Valentino looked at me. "Can you take a picture? Of me."
"Sure, give me your phone."
I pulled my Polaroid into view. "With this, actually." I took it off and handed it to him. It made his eyebrows rise. "I'm going to cover my face," I added, readjusting my hijab as I took a few steps back to stand by the nearest tree on the premises.
"Why your face?" He raised the camera to eye level.
"Um...I think there's a religious reason. I don't always listen."
"Huh." Valentino bent his knees and flipped the Polaroid to be vertical. "There's a lot I have to learn."
You mean relearn. I had to clench my jaws from asking about how much he did learn from his parents.
"Islam as a rule for just about everything." I used my left hand to cover the top half of my face like I was hiding tears but lifted my chin.
"Everything?"
"Everything." With my right hand, I partially covered the bottom half of my face.
"Sounds crazy. In a good way. Ready?" His tongue slipped a bit past his lips as he focused on the shot. "Three...two...one....!"
The wind sped by me with the sound of the Polaroid's click. I hoped my smile could be seen through the net of fingers I'd made.
"How about you take one of me?" Valentino asked as he straightened.
"Sure!" I stepped forward to take the camera and the photo it produced. "Cover your face, too."
He nodded, and I took several steps back. Valentino flexed a bit and then turned his head to the right. He curled his left hand and covered his face.
"Wow!" I squinted into the lens. Was he smiling? "You look like a movie star!" Realizing what I'd said, I quickly clicked and lowered the camera. "The lighting might've been off. Actually, it doesn't matter since there's a built-in filter to make everything look the same," I was rambling again. "Do you want to see it?"
Valentino lowered his hand. "Nah. You keep it. It's not like I can give it to someone."
The smile I thought I saw was for sure gone.
"Your dad gonna pick you up?" he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, yes." I put the Polaroid around my neck and fumbled for my phone. "He'll be here any minute," I lied, rushing to text Baba to come get me.
"Alright, then. Get home safe."
"You, too."
When he'd walked away, I leaned against the tree and stared up at the dark sky. It wasn't dark enough to show much, other than the North Star and half of the Big Dipper. But it was enough to blanket the rooftops and contrast with neon signs. My heart hammered, and I briefly looked over my shoulder where Valentino had disappeared.
Today was the most sinful I'd ever been, flirting the same way I'd make Tireya flirt. I cupped my mouth and shouted, "Astaghfirallah!" into the silence. Gentle relief filled my veins at the single, spoken word, and I waited for the echo of my voice to disappear.
I hugged my Polaroid and waited for Baba to pickme up. I didn't think anything I did was as serious as kathra al-sawad, but thebreeze hitting my face reminded me that I had chosen to keep lying toValentino.