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*Ilhaam POV.*
I sneak out when everybody was busy getting ready to go to work and school, once again. Mum is definitely going to notice, because I never leave before having breakfast; it's a crucial meal for me.
I escaped interrogation yesterday, didn't show up for dinner, prayed in my room then faked to be asleep. Truth is I couldn't sleep, I was praying for the morning to come I needed to solve this problem and fast. Because, soon Dad is going to ask about the school receipt.
My stomach roars like a lion, and the woman sitting next to me in the bus glares at me. I gaze at her like 'What? Never been hungry in your life?' and she turns back to minding her business. Last meal taken was a snack, yesterday morning.
I arrive at the shop and Mr. Abdul was already opening. Alhumdullilah I found him and not his wife, she is annoyingly picky."Assalam alleikum." I greet him.
"Walleikum Salaam." He greets and looks surprised on seeing me. "Didn't you ask for a couple of days off?" He asks.
"Yes, but I need to ask another favour." I say managing a smile. He cocks his head to a side already expecting trouble from me.
It's not like I'm a trouble maker; okay, my high school reputation is not quite beautiful, but that is not the point now.
"Ilhaam." I hear his son say coming in our direction. I mentally roll my eyes, he is one of the reasons of why I hate boys. He really thinks that his conversable impresses every girl, well I'm not every girl.
He definitely doesn't know how to keep his gaze low and say only the convenient.
"Assalam Alleikum." I say to him and turn to talk to Mr. Abdul. "I really need a favour, please."
"Ok, let's go in." He says to me. "Khalil, continue opening the shop." He demands.
I have been sitting for fifteen minutes in his office trying to convince him to lend me the money. And I even used the last card in my sleeve, 'My father is jobless now.' Allah forgive me for lying, I just had no choice.
Astaghfirullah...
"I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important for me. I really, really, really, really, really, really need the money."
"Do your parents know you are here?" he asks.
"No, I'm doing this because it's my degree that is on the line. I promise I will give you back every penny, I will work extra hours, I will sell your best pieces."
"This is not about the money, I can give you the money. But it won't be right with your parents. They will ask where you got the money to pay for the college."
"I will tell them it is a scholarship, you can be like a godfather." I suggest optimistic. "I can't lose a year, Mr Abdul please. I promise your money won't go for waste, I will study twice as much, I will be the best student in college I promise, I will remember you in all my prayers. And if you think I'm lying I will bring you the receipt."
"Ok, enough promises. I will help you."I jump happy, then sit down trying to keep a straight face for my both. He knew I wasn't the slightest serious person, but just trying in front of my boss gives me a point, doesn't it? It shows effort to be serious...
"jazakallah khair, Boss." I try to sound serious as he shakes his head tsk-tsking.
"But first I have to talk to your parents." he had to break my joy.
"I need it now, you know there is a dead line for payments." I try and I wasn't lying.
"Okay." He says reaching for his drawer for the check booklet. "But, I want to talk to your parents." He says signing the check. Me trying to keep it calm.
"Sure." I say pulling a face, trying to sound convincing. He hands me the check.
"Jazakallah, Mr. Abdul." I say jumping, I tuck the check in my jacket pocket; I'm not risking the bag again. "can I take some of this?" I ask pointing to the bowl of chocolate on his table. He gestures for me to take it. I take two hands full in my bag and run outside happy.
Now, I just have to make my parents travel for a while.
I arrive home, and I smell cake. I throw my bag on the couch and head to the kitchen to get myself a piece.
I sense the presence someone at the door and flinch as I turn my gaze to her.
"assalam alleikum, mum you scared me."I complain.
"Who has no debt, does not fear." Mum says and I can feel the blood drain from my face.
"What?" I chuckle nervous. Did Mr. Abdul call already! I start sweating. "What do you mean?"
"You are stealing my cake." She says and I give a sigh in relief. "Ahmed will be mad, he is the one that asked me to bake the cake."
"Oh, my bad. Shouldn't you be working?"I speculate.
"Yeah, the kids went to the Zoo. The other teacher took them." Mum says still observing me suspiciously, she knows I'm nervous. By the way, she is a kindergarten teacher, no wonder her love for kids.
"What is happening?" She asks and I put a big piece of cake in my mouth to have an excuse to not talk while finding a fair enough and lie-free excuse.
"Where?" I ask with the hand to my mouth.
"With you, first you said you were going shopping yesterday, you took forever to come back home without a single shopping bag." Shoot, just now I remember that I forgot all my new clothes in the park. Yesterday was an awful day, alhamdulillah got through it. "Your weird behaviour yesterday about the pregnancy, not mentioning the 'go' that you had at your own parents. Then not coming out for dinner and prayed alone in your room. Then you go out like fugitive this morning, I well saw you."
I freeze my mouth opened. I clean my throat and move my mouth no words coming out, I scratch my forehead nervous. "Umm...I have got nothing to say. I guess it's the stress, college is soon, right!" I exclaim nervous and it sounded more like a question than anything.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Mum asks and I freeze in place like where is that question coming from. I look to the side, wondering if she's maybe asking someone else that is aside me. Oh, she's asking me! "Many muslimas now-a-days think it is okay to have a boyfriend. But wrong is wrong even if everybody is doing it."
"¡Mum! ¡Ew!" I double exclaim.
"I'm not joking." Mum warns. She wasn't joking, I can see on her face. She really thought I... Eww.
"Neither am I. I can't even..." I stare blankly. "No, no, no. You should know better than that mum. I'd rather you think that I spent my whole fee money on shoes, than that. Astaghfirullah. Wallahi, I'm being honest. "
"Did you?" She asks right away. Mum can really smell trouble. She knows I did something wrong, won't stop until she finds out. Does she have a rather or something? How does she do that?
It's scary!
"No, no, no." I say shaking my head. How did we reach this point in the conversation.
"I'm watching you." Mum warns. "And you better start wearing Abaya to school this year, you stopped being a kid a long time ago." I gasp unable to utter another word
"What is wrong with my clothes?" I say looking down at myself. I was wearing jeans a knee long leopard print shirt, a jacket and a red hijab to match my red booties.
"Everything. Tight fitting clothes distort the concept of hijab. What's the point of covering your hair when all your clothes almost look like a second skin on you!"
"I'm modest..." I try. "-ish." Mum had definitely a point, that remembers me that Rasulullah SAW talked about the times when women would dress and still be naked. And I love my skinny jeans *sobs*, I love my jannah better... Fear Allah.
"I'm not asking." My mother says.
"I only have like four abayas and one of them is really old. I will have to wear the same four the whole year?" I whine like a baby. I lost my shopping bags *sobs*
"You have so many scarves; nobody will notice you are wearing the same Abaya." Mum says already leaving the kitchen, the conversation was over, just like that. I'm starting college again with old clothes *sighs*.
Even being someone awesome like me, sometimes hate being me... That would be now... *sighs*
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