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"Sometimes, in the Muslim community, I feel like we just focus on appearances too much." -- Noha Ali
Chapter 29
Intuition Calls
☻ Noha Ali ☻
Intuition is a funny thing. Sometimes you trust it, like when you’re completely lost on a question on a test, and you trust your gut feeling that the answer is B, only to be completely wrong and find out that the answer is A. Other times, you don’t want to trust it, and want to kick yourself when you find out that there really was a slice of cheesecake left in the fridge and your stupid older brother ate it. I think intuition is just one of those things that can only be figured out to an extent. After that, you just have to realize that there are certain things only God knows.
My intuition is nagging at me. Fridays are usually dedicated to family nights, mostly for Dawud’s benefit, where we all do something together. This Friday night we watch Dawud perform his own magic show.
I’m not one of those people that are glued to their phones. My dad told me and Adam that if we get glued to our phones, he’d take them away. Technology is meant to help people, he said, and if we became slaves to it, our phones would be gone faster than we could text.
After I get home from school, I usually drop my phone somewhere and don’t look for it again until I need it. But something about today, Friday, told me to keep my phone on me. And I sure as hell am definitely going to listen.
Dawud makes Adam disappear (oh, my dream) as I am fingering my phone in my pocket, waiting. It finally happens. My phone vibrates and I discreetly pull it out to check the screen.
My heart skips a beat in fear when I see that it is Zakariya. Oh God, what happened? I swear…if that boy messed up majorly I’ll have his head.
Leaning back so that Rubs is blocking me from view, I open the message with a loudly beating heart.
I need your help. Like…now.
Oh God. Should I be worried? Please tell me that there’s nothing to be worried about. Please tell me his concern is about something we have to do in art class. “Ma, a friend needs help with something. I’m really, really sorry but may I be excused for a few minutes?”
I give them my most innocent and honest eyes. “Alright, just hurry back.” Dad and Mom say, nodding and then promptly going back to Dawud’s trick.
I’m going to log on to Skype. IM?
Using the laptop that Adam and I share, I log onto my Skype. Zakariya is online. Bracing myself for the worst, I tell myself to get down to business, very Mulan-like. Thankfully, Zak is on the same page because he doesn’t waste much time in telling what he wants.
ZakAttack: I need your help. It’s urgent.
Nohas_Ark: Yup, I figured. Tell me. And salam.
ZakAttack: Walaikum’Assalam. I told Maysa and Nazia what’s going on.
Nohas_Ark: And let me guess…you’re going to drop the whole bad-boy-sulking façade and open up to your wittle friend Noh about what the hell has been going on?
ZakAttack: …yes I’m “opening up” to you. God, that’s so Oprah
Nohas_Ark: Just tell me what’s going on.
It takes Zakariya two paragraphs in total to explain. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t surprised and worried at the end of it. But I mentally smack myself and put on the calm exterior image.
Nohas_Ark: You sir, are an idiot. But thank you for telling them and putting them out of their misery
ZakAttack: …surprisingly, I kind of missed your remarks
Nohas_Ark: LOL Zak. Ok, so what exactly do you want me to do?
ZakAttack: KEEP HER AWAY FROM AIDEN. I swear, knowing Maysa, she’s going to do something like try to reason with him or something.
Nohas_Ark: Yeah…that’s Maysa.
ZakAttack: Also, keep her the hell away from Shazia.
Nohas_Ark: Uh…why?
ZakAttack: You don’t need to know.
Nohas_Ark: -__- And here I thought we were having a bonding session. Stop being cryptic
ZakAttack: Stop questioning.
Nohas_Ark: No. now tell me why you’re enlisting my help
ZakAttack: God, you’re so annoying. I’m asking for your help because you know Aiden better than Maysa does. You’ve encountered him before.
We go on for a few more minutes until we both have to go. My head hurts from trying to keep up with the whole Zak-Aiden business, trying to quell the Adam-Maysa tension, putting up with Shazia’s shenanigans, dealing with Josh’s overall annoying self, and designing and implementing the plans for the runway.
I can hear the faint cheers and clapping coming from downstairs as Dawud performs his magic tricks. I should go back, but I need some time to process what Zakariya said.
I flop back onto my bed dramatically. Tucking my hands behind my head, I allow myself again to get lost in my thoughts about the worst night of my life.
“May-Maysa I need your help. I…I screwed up really badly. I don’t know what to do. And I’m so sorry that I’ve been treating you like crap. It wasn’t nice of me but Maysa I don’t know anyone else to ca-call.” I wail, I blabber, I ramble. I’m a mess, plain and simple. Ok, not so simple.
The silence on the other line causes the hysteria to rise in me with every passing second. Finally, someone swallows on the other line. “Noha?” That voice isn’t Maysa’s. Not even close. It’s a boy’s.
I freeze when I realize that I just admitted everything to Zakariya.
There’s a reason why you should never go around blurting out stuff before you know who you’re talking to. Granted, we live in an age where caller ID is the norm, but still. Zakariya didn’t say anything for a while.
My heart seizes and I wait in agony for Zakariya to reply. “H-hello?” I mumble weakly.
“Yeah…I’m here.” I can hear him swallow, the kind of swallow that someone does right before they’re about to do something they don’t want to do. This God-help-me swallow. “Maysa left her phone here. She’s at the neighbor’s house.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Aiden conversing with a boy. They’re looking at me and in self-disgust, I rip open my bag and put on my cardigan. My arms being exposed makes me uncomfortable.
“O-ok. Thank you, Zakariya. And um…can we just pretend that nothing happened? Thanks. Um…yeah…bye.” My nose is still clogged up from crying.
“No, we’re not going to pretend like nothing happened.” He states firmly. “And you are NOT hanging up on me, Noha.”
This is honestly why I love Zakariya. Wallahi, I’m not trying to compare him to Adam in a negative way, but while Adam is bad about talking about his feelings, Zakariya is great at it. He’s helped me out during some tough times when I felt like I couldn’t talk to Maysa or Adam.
We’ve always been good friends, even longer than Maysa and I have been best friends. Having him around is like having a big brother that you can go to whenever you need to.
“You’re obviously in bad shape. Where are you? What’s wrong?” My face burns in humiliation as he asks those questions. I can’t tell him what happened. What if he looks down on me? Yup, this is proof that crying makes me an idiot. When has Zak ever looked down on somebody? The boy is far from prideful and egoistic.
“Um…at the middle school you used to go to last year.”
“Can you walk to the park next to the school?” He asks calmly.
“Um…w-what?”
“The park, Noha.” His voice is the epitome of patient. “I can ride my bike to the park in twenty minutes, if I take the shortcut.”
I deflate. “O-oh, Zak. You don’t have to do that. Besides…it’s getting late and you know…what are you going to tell your parents? And it’s um, not like…Islamically appropriate, right?”
I can hear the sound of the garage open from his side of the line. “Ma! Can I go to the library?” He calls out. His mom seems to say yes.
A door closes. A bike whizzes. “Yeah, it’s getting late. And in any other context, it may be Islamically-inappropriate for a guy and a girl to meet up but you know what? If the Prophet, may peace be upon him, was here right now, I think he would be more upset with the fact that I didn’t do anything to comfort a fellow Muslim sister and get her out of the mess that she’s in.”
Maysa and Adam never knew what went on. Zakariya was true to his word. Even now, even through all the times we’ve pissed each other off, there was always this mutual understanding that there are a lot of things that were just meant to be between us two.
That’s why I couldn’t and still can’t bring myself to be as mad at Zakariya as Adam and Maysa are. How can I? I get what it feels like.
“Noha!” I hear my family yell.
I leap up with a start. Oh crap. “Coming!” I shout.
I mentally close my little memory box and give it a little pat. I’m not ready to reminisce on the rest.
☮ ☮ ☮
Zakariya gave me specific instructions not to tell Maysa anything specific. She looks troubled at rehearsal for the fashion show on Monday. It wasn’t until after we endured two hours of Adam and his obnoxious friends, Shazia and her shenanigans, and Farah and Mustafa’s awesome teamwork that we actually got a chance to talk.
She pops the question (no, not the will-you-marry-me-one) as we walk out to the car ramp, where Adam and Zak have gone to get the car. I swear. Three more months and I get my license. I couldn’t be happier. Anyway, I know that it was around time that Maysa would lose the battle with her curiosity.
“Noha…how well do you know Aiden?”
Aw hell. I knew she was going to ask this. “More than you do.”
She clears her throat again. “Out of curiosity…do you tell me everything? I mean, I don’t expect you to but you know…I’m curious.”
I grin in amusement. “In all honesty, I don’t. I tell you more things than I tell anyone else. But Mays, it takes time. I tell you when I’m ready. There are a lot of things that I haven’t told you that I will one day. Stuff like that has to be talked about at the right moment. And right moments don’t come up very often.” And besides, I never told her about how much I screwed up. Sometimes I feel like that’s because I’m not ready, but other times I feel like I’m over it to the point that I don’t feel the need nor the desire to talk about it.
“Ok. Um. There’s something I kind of want you to know.”
Is it about Adam? Oy. I don’t think I can take all this romantic lovey-dovey stuff anymore. The conversation with Adam was enough. “I have a feeling I know what this is about. But go on.”
“Zakariya talked to us last Fr—wait…what did you think I was going to tell you?”
Oh. So that’s not it. Huh. “Never mind. I thought you were going to say something else. And I know Zakariya had a talk with you and Nazia last Friday.”
Adam pulls up, and Maysa unconsciously stiffens next to me. Trouble in halal love land I presume. I quickly give Mays a hug and make my way to the car.
“Wait! When are you going to tell me how you know more than I do about Aiden and how you found out that Zakariya talked to you and how—” I want to laugh at her rambling. Only Mays.
I love this mysterious, cryptic thing I have going on. All I need is an evil ‘mwhahaha’ laugh and I’m all set. “When the time is right. Have faith in me, Mays. Allah reveals all at its due time. Salam.”
☮ ☮ ☮
It’s in the car when Adam drops the bomb. “Shazia and Rayyan are having a winter party.”
My backpack falls at my feet with a thud of disbelief. “What?!”
He nods. “Yeah. Exams start this Friday and go on until next Wednesday, right? Well, the Friday after exams, they’re having a party at their house and inviting everyone that’s working on this fashion show and a couple of other people.”
No, no, no, no, no, NO. “You’re not considering going, are you?”
“We.” He corrects.
I shake my head frantically. “No, there’s no way I’m going.”
He shoots me a look. “Noh, stop being rude. They invited us and they’re our friends. We kind of have to go, if Mom and Dad allow it. And I’m pretty sure they won’t let me go without you. We’re a package deal.”
I shoot him a look of my one. “The horror of reality. I don’t wanna gooo!” I whine.
I have a bad feeling about this. I make it a personal mission to avoid going to this party.
☮ ☮ ☮
The personal mission failed, which is why I’m sitting on my bed the Friday after exams, trying to decide what to wear to Shazia’s party. My exams went well, allhamdulillah. I can feel myself leaning towards architecture, and I seriously need to keep my grades and GPA up if I want to accomplish that dream.
My parents found comfort in the fact that our hosts are Muslim, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that they weren’t the most…concerned about keeping it halal. But who am I to say anything? Inshallah everything will be fine and there won’t be many tests tonight, Islam-wise.
Maysa spoke to me yesterday when I was lazing around the house. “Zak doesn’t want to go to this party. He’s acting all weird about it.” She said worriedly.
I immediately sat up. Oh shoot. My mind went to how Zakariya told me to keep Maysa away from Shazia. Trying my best to sound casual, I talked to Mays some more and then after we hung up, sent Zakariya a text asking him how Maysa was supposed to avoid Shazia if we were going to her house. He replied saying that I would have to figure out a way and that not going would draw the interest of the “wrong people”, whatever that means.
So while he sulks around doing his bad-boy façade at the party tonight, I get to babysit Maysa without her knowing. Oy. How was I going to pull this off?
Adam and I leave the house at around eight, after praying Maghrib, with the promise that we’d be home by ten-thirty. By the time we left, our ears were ringing from Mom basically reading the entire Quran before letting us go. I can’t help but smile at her protectiveness though.
I’m still kind of off with Adam for accepting the invitation, even though I know in the back of my head that no matter how much he didn’t want to go, he would kind of have to out of obligation. Besides, he and Rayyan are pretty good friends. Not super close, but all of Adam’s friends are going to be there tonight. Well, that better be why he’s going. If he’s going there for Shazia….
“You’re not going to the party for Shazia, are you?”
“What?” He looks surprised and shocked.
“Oh, you heard me Romeo. Now fess up.”
He glares at me when we stop at a red light. “No.”
I settle back with satisfaction. “Good.”
☮ ☮ ☮
The minute we pull up into Rayyan and Shazia’s long driveway dividing the sprawling lawn, an uneasy feeling sets in and all I want to do is run home and slip on some pajamas. “Adam, is there going to be adult supervision?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why Mom and Dad let us go. You really think they would let us go to a guy and girl party without any adults?”
“Ok.” There are a lot of cars here, more than there should be if only the people from the fashion show team are here. I point that out to Adam and he thinks for a minute. “Rayyan mentioned that he would invite a few more people.”
We get out of the car and make our way to the front door. After ringing the doorbell twice, Rayyan answers. The sharp, well-defined lines of his jaw are illuminated by the lighting that’s in the house, which is kind of on the dim side. A giggling, possibly drunk girl is latched onto his arm, sloppily tracing his jaw with her slender finger. Wait, dru—
“You came! Come on in, my man. Noha.” Rayyan nods at me. Why is he smiling like that and why don’t his eyes seem focused?
Shazia approaches us then and glares at her brother. “You told me that you and this slut wouldn’t be out drinking today, you idiot.” Her eyes flash in anger. Did I ever mention that Shazia is not a girl to be messed with when she’s pissed?
The ‘slut’ raises her head. “Who ya calling a slu…” Her words are cut off as she dozes off on Rayyan’s shoulder. He sighs and drops her down not-so-delicately on a nearby coach.
“Come in.” We comply. I look around for Maysa, and I sigh in relief when I see her and Farah sitting together on an oversized single sofa. “Adam, will you be fine?” He nods, his friends already waving him over.
We separate and I make a beeline for my friends. Sahanara suddenly appears with three sodas in her hands. “Um, is there alcohol being served?” I ask.
All three of them look at each other. “Not that we know of. I think Rayyan and that blonde girl, Andressa, just got back from somewhere. As far as I know, they’re the only two that are drunk.”
“Where’s his dad?”
“Upstairs. He’s come down here two or three times.” I nod and the knot in my stomach loosens.
Sahanara, Farah, Maysa, Naomi and I all talk for the next forty minutes or so. We somehow end up separating and an hour after we’ve arrived, I find myself alone. I sigh and make my way to the kitchen.
I wish I hadn’t because Niall and this Muslim girl from school, Isra, entwined in each other. They’re…forget what they’re doing. I don’t want to go in detail. But as I’m stealthily tiptoeing over to grab a soda with the intent of getting the hell out of there, they suddenly notice me and Isra jumps off of Niall.
“Noha!” She shouts nervously.
I hold up my soda innocently. “Yes?” Her lip gloss is all messed up. I guess Niall needed some serious CPR. Poor guy because he looks out of breath.
Seriously though, what the heck was Isra doing? She’s one of the most involved youths at the masjid. She’s always the one to help organize lectures at the masjid, always the one to stay for the entire kutbah, or sermon. She prays all of taraweeh namaz, which are optionalprayers during the month of Ramadan.
I walk out with a shake of my head. I guess you never know with people. I guess the people that always pray and come to the masjid aren’t necessarily the most religious. Seeing Isra tonight…well, it just shows that it is what’s in a person’s heart that defines their character, not their appearances.
“Wait!” They both bleat out just as I’m about to leave the kitchen.
I turn my head towards them. “Please don’t tell my parents.” Isra pleads. I can’t help but feel disgusted. She honestly thinks that I’d do that? Who the hell am I to get involved in this? And the fact that she actually asked me not to tell them upsets me knowing that she’s deceiving her parents by doing this. All for a stupid boy that is standing next to her silently, looking freaked out.
It’s a long time before I speak. “Don’t worry, Isra. Your mistakes, your actions, your good and bad deeds are none of my concern. You have free will, which Allah has gifted you with. You can do what you like but at the end of the day, it is you that will have to face your parents, face yourself in the mirror, along with facing God every time you pray.” She looks shocked at my words and a little guilty. “But please, I only have one request. Don’t hurt your parents. They’re both amazing people, mashallah.”
I begin to walk out again, until Niall interrupts. “Wait!”
“Now what?!”
“Um…can you not tell Maysa about this?” Oh hell no. He did not just say that. Tell Maysa? He thinks I’m going to go running to her and tell her what he’s been doing in the kitchen? And that’s not even the best part. The best part is that he’s basically asking me to save his butt so that he doesn’t have to take accountability for his actions.
I force myself to stay calm even though annoyance is bubbling inside me. “So you’re saying that you don’t me to tell the girl you like that you’ve been making out with some other girl while she sits one room away. And I’m just supposed to sit there and let you make some moves on her and encourage her to go out with you?” My voice sounds bored.
“What?!! You told me you liked me, you jerk!” Isra shrieks.
Niall is speechless. I sigh in disgust and walk out.
It’s not worth it. They’re not worth it.
☮ ☮ ☮
I make my way over to where my friends are sitting, just wanting a distraction from what just happened in the kitchen. I have no desire or intent to mention what just took place to anyone. I’m not in the position to.
I take a sharp turn at the corner of the hallway wall and trip over someone. “Oh my God I’m so sor—”
Ahmed is sitting against the wall, looking lost in thought. Frowning, I wave a hand in front of his face. I’ve never seen him like this. “Ahmed?”
No response. I wave my hands some more. Nothing. It’s like he’s etched in stone. I can’t touch him, so shaking him to get his attention is kind of hard to do without breaking the no-physical-contact-with-boys-you-can-technically-marry rule. I didn’t get serious about that rule until this year and it’s freaking hard to follow when you’re so used to doing it!
“Hot girl in booty shorts at three o’clock!” I shout. His head snaps up and he looks to the left. I can’t help but laugh. “Dude, turning left means nine o’clock.” He blinks and looks up at me with wide eyes. His face goes from confusion to shock to regret and then finally to this I-have-to-get-the-hell-out-of here expression.
“Um, hey Noha.” He mutters.
“Salam.” It’s the weirdest scene. He’s sitting on the ground, holding a plastic cup that’s severely crushed, and I’m standing a few feet away from him, confused as to what the heck is going on. “Uh…are you ok?” I ask curiously.
“Yes. No. I…I don’t know.” He sighs in defeat and my heart hurts a little bit at the pain on his face. “It’s nothing.” He laughs humorously. “I better go.”
Once, four years ago, I tried saying the same thing to Zakariya. He wouldn’t buy it, which is why I’m standing on two (sane) feet today. I don’t know what’s going on with Ahmed but I have a feeling I can’t just let him go like this.
“Oh no you don’t. Sit.” I command.
“I’m already seated.”
“Well…well, remain seated.” I plop down next to him, keeping the appropriate Muslim girl distance away from him: at least one hijab length. “Now, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Begin at the beginning.”
“My family’s in town.”
“Well…what’s so bad about that?”
“You don’t know my family.”
I think for a minute. “Hm. I know that Nauman and Nasreen are your older siblings and they were always kind of…aloof? And detached from everyone else. Your younger brother’s name is Naveed and he’s hella annoying because all he ever talks about himse—”
Realizing what I just said, my eyes widen in horror. “Oh, shoot, I’m-I’m so sorry, Ahmed. It’s not that your siblings aren’t nice but they just—”
“No.” He interrupts. “You’re absolutely right about them. They’re all like that. Nasreen and Nauman just got home yesterday and I’ve been going insane from making it sound like I don’t give a sh—damn.”
I prod him to go on. “My aunt and uncle came yesterday too. They’re just this huge-ass reminder that I’ll never be like them and I guess…I guess I never really belonged in that family in the first place. Damn, I sound freaking stupid.”
Shoot. I never gave much thought to what background Ahmed was coming from. Well, I knew his family but I never noticed how he doesn’t fit in with them. But in my opinion, that’s not really a bad thing. I’ve never really got along well with any of his brothers or sisters.
I tell him this and he just shakes his head. “Everyone loves my brothers and sisters. Jesus, even my aunt, the nicest person in my family, always asks me why I’m not more like Nauman.”
He continues explaining how he and his dad got into a fight because Ahmed made him mad. “What’d you do that got him so pissed?”
For the first time, Ahmed smiles serenely. “My family was going on this whole ‘Pakistanis the best’ tirade and I asked that ifPakistantruly was the best and does everything right, why isn’t it a world superpower? And my dad got hella mad for even mentioning something like that.”
I laugh. “It’s a point that should be considered though.”
He nods, lost in thought. “I kind of had to get away from all of it. I just can’t stand them.”
“But why? I mean, I know why but…”
“Because they’re all so hypocritical and fake, so ruled by a bunch of dumb cultural principles. I’m not the most religious guy ever but if you’re going to do something, don’t classify it under Islam. And my sisters, my mom, my girl cousins, and my aunt were all just sitting around gossiping or whatever about who’s getting married to who and who did what that I couldn’t even stand being around people that fake and two-faced because they were talking about their friends. And then I pointed that out to my mom and she took me aside and told me that I was in no position to say anything like that. So I said, ‘neither are you’ and she got hella pissed off at me too.”
“Well aren’t you a bad boy?” I tease. He laughs for the first time.
“Ahmed?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go sit in an actual chair or something? We’re kind of sitting on the ground and blocking people’s way.”
He laughs and we make our way to where the party’s happening.
☮ ☮ ☮
Later, as I’m talking to Maysa and my other friends, I can’t stop thinking about Ahmed. Sometimes, in the Muslim community, I feel like we just focus on appearances too much. A brother with a beard who is quiet is automatically seen as more religious than the other brothers. It may be true sometimes, but we treat it like it is true all the time.
Similarly, a sister that wears a hijab is considered more pious and religious than a sister that doesn’t cover her hair. Again, that may be true sometimes, but not all the time.
Ahmed doesn’t have a beard, even though he can grow one, and I don’t think he comes to the masjid as often as some other Muslim brothers, but his conversation, his thoughts, and his perception shows me that his heart is better than that of brothers ten times more “religious” than he is.
I guess we can’t tell what someone’s intentions are. We can’t tell what’s really in their heart. Only Allah can do that, which is why we should focus on seeing people for who they truly are on the inside. And the more I see, the more I realize that external appearances don’t mean a thing when it comes to character.
“Noha?” Farah asks curiously, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah. I agree.” I say robotically.
Mays andNarashoot me a concerned look. “I asked you where you got your dress.” Far says quietly.
I sigh and massage my head. Ya Allah help me and guide me.
☮ ☮ ☮
Maysa goes to the bathroom after a little bit to freshen up I guess. I’m getting uneasy too; I just want to go home. It’s been a long night. Everything, from Niall and Isra in the kitchen, to my talk with Ahmed, and processing all of that while trying to appear normal to my friends is really taking a toll on me.
I see Zak and Adam from time to time but usually, one of them is inside the house while the other is on the back deck, each with his own group of friends, though I know they miss hanging out with each other.
Around ten o’clock, when Adam and I are just about to leave, I go looking for Adam and Maysa. I can’t find either one of them. I can’t find Zakariya anywhere either.
Frowning, I get this weird, weird intuition that something is terribly off about this whole situation. Just as I’m about to head to the hallway section that Ahmed and I were in, I hear the front door open slowly. Black leather jackets and ripped jeans clothe the person that walks in.
He looks dangerous and serious and really, really mad. Rayyan approaches him and hands him something.
Discreetly moving behind a wall, I look around for a familiar face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand clamps down on my shoulder. My heart leaps in my chest until I see who it is.
“Noha! Where the hell is Maysa? Where’s Adam?” Zakariya whisper-shouts. His face is filled with panic. He removes his hand and runs it through his hair. Something definitely is extremely off if Zakariya didn’t realize that he just touched me.
I don’t bother saying anything because I know it was an honest mistake and frankly…I don’t think now is the time.
“I…I don’t know where Maysa is. She went to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. But I don’t know where the bathroom is.” I frown; really, where could she be?
Zakariya’s eyes widen. “No, no! You were supposed to look after her!”
I clench my jaw and swallow my anger for the sake of Allah and out of respect for the Prophet’s (may peace be upon him) teachings. “Well, I can’t be with her every second! Why is it so important anyway? For real!”
I cross my arms tightly in annoyance. With gritted teeth, Zakariya responds. “Aiden’s boys are here. He could show up any minute.”
My eyes widen. Oh God. We have to…well, we have to get the heck out of here.
Before I can say anything, before Zak can elaborate further, Maysa stumbles out of a room that had the door closed, her cheeks stained red, her eyes down, and her hands trembling slightly. Zakariya and I stare at her, unable to speak.
The door opens a second time. My brother steps out with his jaw clenched. Neither look at the other, but both look like they’re at the verge of losing it.
Zakariya and I exchange one more glance. Something definitely isn’t right.
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All these questions! Interesting, interesting. Winners of the contests and one-shot thing: TBA.
I have a dream. I honestly never thought that a Muslim girl book would hit it this big. Allhamdulillah, I'm almost at 100,000 reads. My dream was to get the bright red reads number thing, but evidently I need 200,000 reads for that. I don't think that'll happen soon but could you do me a favor?
Please tell at least ONE friend about this book. Just spread the message, spread the tolerance, spread the LOVE y'all!
Much love,
Ashie ♥