I come home with my hands occupied with shopping bags. I stumble up the stairs to my room and set all of the bags on my bed. I grab the boots I bought at H&M and slip them on. They are knee-length, and the inside has soft fake fur which makes my toes tingle with excitement. I smile down at my feet. I knew that spending those twenty dollars was worth it.
I jump as I hear a soft knock on my door. "Come in," I call. I admire my boots even more as Mom steps in and smiles. She gives me a kiss and asks how I am.
"I'm good." I give her a hug and beam. "Mom, these boots are the best!" I slip them off and put them in my closet next to my shoe rack, which I only utilize for my flats and sneakers. I take a sweater out of another bag and take my coat off to wear my new Aèropostale sweater. It is blue with AÈROPOSTALE printed on it in big, pink block letters.
"I'm glad you like them," Mom says. She sits down on my bed and pats the space next to her, motioning that she wants me to sit down next to her. I plop down on the bed and hug Mom. "What's wrong? " I ask.
Mom takes a deep breath. Her eyes usually hold happiness, but now her green eyes make her look sad and mournful. "Your father called me this morning after Church. He was wondering if I would consider getting back together with him."
"But he himself wanted the divorce."
"I know," Mom says immediately, "but he has his reasons. I am just telling you this to let you know if something happens in the future."
"Did you tell Kara and Keith?" I ask.
"No, I haven't told them yet. But I will whenever I have the need to. Or when I think they're ready to handle the news."
"Handle what?" Kara asks. She's standing in the doorway, her expression curious. She gives us a questioning look by arching her right eyebrow.
"The fact that I went to the mall without you!" I stuck my tongue at her playfully. Hopefully, she'll believe what I had just said.
Kara glares at me. "This is so unfair!" she wails.
"Well, if ya snooze ya loose!" I smirk at her and watch as she leaves, stomping in every step, implying that she's either playing along or upset.
Mom laughs. "Thank you, Kayla. I don't want them knowing yet." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
I go on back to gawking at how good I look in my new clothes and hang them in the closet. I am so wearing those boots tomorrow.
___
Once I finish washing the dishes after dinner, I walk up the stairs with anticipation. I really needed to read more from the Qur'aan. I was so attached to the words, that I have now decided to read at least one chapter per day. It will take me awhile since there are 113- no, 114 surahs in the Qur'aan.
I close my bedroom door behind me and take the translation of the Qur'aan from the first drawer of my nightstand. I plop down on my bed and carefully open the thick book to the table of contents. From alphabetical order, there's a list for certain things, such as Prayer or chapters, such as 'Ash-Shura ; page 483. My index finger glides down the page, only to find that the Opening Chapter is not listed here.
I turn the page and continue on, since there's at least five pages of contents. I knew that I shouldn't just skip to the O section of the table of contents for the 'Opening Chapter', because the actual name of the chapter will be listed in Arabic transliteration, not English completely.
I forgot the name of the chapter in Arabic, so I quickly Google it on my laptop and find out that it's called Fatihah. I eagerly find it easily in the contents and flip to the page that is listed next to it. And I immediately face palm myself. I am so stupid. I didn't even have to bother looking for it; it's the very first chapter, and the name literally means Opening Chapter!
I read the verses after scolding myself and read some other chapters too. I don't even notice as a knock sounds from the door, as I am engrossed in the Qur'aan. I hear a creak, and that's when I snap. I shove the book under my pillow and pull out another one from my nightstand. I open it to a random page and act as if I was reading this the whole time as Mom steps in.
"Kayla? You okay?" Mom asks warily.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm just reading a book. Sorry for not answering." I smile sheepishly.
Mom nods. "I understand. You're very fond of books." She holds out a plate of pumpkin pie topped with whip cream. "You skipped desert."
I take the plate from her and say, "Thank you." I shut the book and set it aside. I eat the pumpkin pie quickly, mainly for two reasons: I wanted to get back to reading the Qur'aan's translation, and I can't resist pumpkin pie. It has been my favorite pie ever since I first ate it when I was two.
As soon as Mom turns her back towards me, she gives a quick glance at my pillow. "What's that?" she asks questioningly.
As much as I hate lying, I didn't want Mom to know about this. "Um, it's just some book..." I trail off as my stomach twists into knots of anxiety.
"Can I see it?" Mom asks.
I gulp. Really, Mom? "Umm.... sure, but, um, don't you need to...." I look around my room and pick up a shirt which was way too small for me and I didn't bother to throw it away. "Give this to Kara?" I say at last.
Mom reaches for it and I hand it to her. "Okay, dear." I sigh in relief as she leaves the room and closes the door. Procrastinating really helped.
I decide to put the translation of the Qur'aan back into my nightstand and change into my pajamas after brushing my teeth. It was hard to doze off while forcing my eyes shut. There were two thoughts in mind: What will Mom think if I convert to Islam?
And how will my life change if she gets back together with Dad?
___
As I wake up the next day to the alarm set on my phone, I reluctantly throw the covers off of me, all at once, and moan as cold seeps through my turquoise melange T-shirt. I grab my towel and drag my lazy self to the bathroom, shivering from the cold drafts. Someone must have turned off the heat, and that someone needs some sense smacked into them for turning the thermostat off!
I take a quick shower after brushing my teeth and stomp out of the bathroom, my teeth chattering. Sometimes, I wonder if we live at the North Pole.
I search for some decent clothes to wear - nothing extravagant, it's Monday - and decide to settle with a simple pink and gray striped shirt, jeans, and my new Aèropostale sweater. I tie my brown - reddish hair in a single braid. I never wear my hair without a ponytail or braid.
And there came the issue of whether I should wear my new boots or not. I decide against it - even if they are glamorous, they'd get dirty. And it's Monday. No need to be Fancy-Pants.
So I'll wear my high-tops.
I grab my backpack and skip down the stairs. A box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch awaits me as I enter the kitchen. I pour some into a bowl with milk and eat the cereal. I would have just eaten breakfast at school, but I would instantly lose my appetite once someone sticks a couple spoons up there noses.
I shiver at the thought. My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket. I take it out and find that it is a text from Zahra.
Z-
I'm outside! ya betta hurry.
I quickly finish my cereal. Zahra wasn't someone you would want to mess with. During the first week of our acquaintance, she offered to give me a ride to school, even though I am pretty capable of driving a car merely five miles away. She came twenty minutes earlier than I woke up. Once I got dressed and stepped out of the house, there was no sign of her.
Basically, Zahra is like Effie in the Hunger Games, if you know what I mean.
I set the dishes next to the sink on the counter. I grab my big brown wooly coat and hastily put it on. My pace quickens as soon as I'm out of the door. I notice that it is snowing lightly, and I sigh in despair. I hate winter so much, and the snow was no help at all.
I zip up my coat to conceal warmth and cautiously walk to the sleek dark blue car waiting next to the mailbox. Zahra, as usual, is babbling on her phone. Even though the windows of her car are slightly tinted, it's pretty obvious, since I have been friends with her for at least a year.
I sit in the passenger seat as a bit of snow gets in the car near the door frame.
"....you are dating him? Girl, you better get a hold of yourself. Tell me everything once I get to school." She hangs up and turns on the engine. "So, did you ask your mom yet?" Zahra asks without facing me.
I shake my head, even though she might have not seen me do so. "I'm not sure yet. I almost got caught when I was reading the translation of the Qur'aan." I say Qur'aan in a weird tone, as I am not really used to the term right now. Zahra muffles a giggle but I ignore her.
She shifts the gear to rear and then to drive as soon as she's out of our driveway. We make idle talk throughout the ride, but something disturbs me when Zahra asks, "What do you think your mom will think?" She arches her eyebrow in curiosity.
I shrug. "I don't know. My mom's not really....an open book." Even though this is something personal, I tell Zahra anyways, since I know that I can trust her. "Mom.... she said something about Dad wanting to get back together with her." I say this slowly, and I suddenly regret telling Zahra this.
Zahra's tone is soft yet concerned. "Um, are you okay with this?" she asks slowly as well.
"Well, not really. Dad shouldn't have divorced Mom in the first place." I remember the day clearly when Mom and Dad were arguing. But I don't want to think about it right now; I' ll just end up in tears.
"So, who were you talking to on the phone?" I ask as Zahra turns right on a corner. I really want the conversation to shift topics.
"It was Isabela. Like, can you believe that she's dating Julian?"
"What?" I ask in mock surprise and disbelief.
"I know, right?" Zahra says sarcastically. "But seriously, that is messed up. Julian just broke up with her best friend Bianca. I bet there's going to be a fist fight once she finds out." We finally reach the school grounds, and Zahra finds a parking space close enough to the main entrance of our school.
We get out of the car, and practically run, so we can warm up before class. I don't care if people are shooting us looks; they'd want to be out of this bitter cold too.
We walk up to the second floor, where all of the junior and senior classes are held. First floor is for freshman and sophomore, where the cafeteria and auditorium is.
And, as Zahra predicted, there, in front of our eyes, is the bloodiest fist fight between Isabela and Bianca.