Inaya woke early one Monday morning in late March and felt as if she were coming doing with the flu. The thickness of the comforter that she’d pulled over her face made her breaths warm in the confined space.
Rain pounded incessantly against the window of her bedroom, and she wondered if her mother would let her stay home from school. It was too farfetched to imagine that abdominal cramps would grant her this permission, even though it was “that time of the month.” Just two weeks ago, Inaya was home for Spring Break, and Veronica had acted as if that were too much time off from studying.
Inaya coughed to soothe the burning in her throat, and she wondered if she should drink some honey-lemon tea. But the thought of dragging herself out of bed to boil the water and squeeze lemons was enough to discourage her.
In any case, in less than an hour, Kayla was scheduled to arrive. But Inaya imagined that the ensuing thunderstorm would keep Kayla from coming to the door.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” Mrs. Ford had told Inaya Friday afternoon, the excitement in her tone leaving nothing ambiguous about what she was referring to. “We’re making the announcement Monday morning during homeroom.”
For more than two months, Inaya had remained indecisive about what to do about the Future Hope Scholarship and the problem with Mrs. Ford. During the late December night that she had talked to Raymond at her father’s house, it seemed that the best option was just being straightforward with Mrs. Ford about her religion. But when Inaya returned to school in early January after winter vacation, the option was no longer appealing.
For one thing, there was no opportunity to bring it up. Though Inaya worked with Mrs. Ford daily and still stayed late after school, they were rarely alone for more than a few minutes at a time. The excess of work because of the approaching annual academic honor’s ceremony, Mrs. Ford’s role in assisting with the senior graduation, and the BOSS’s sudden responsibility to assist Student Council with planning the school prom, made it necessary for at least one other BOSS member to stay after school each day with Inaya and Mrs. Ford.
But even when Mrs. Ford and Inaya found themselves alone for a few minutes, Mrs. Ford gushed about how proud she was that the Christian students were showing their “natural” superiority this year, and how this year’s honor’s program was going to be “like no other.” Mrs. Ford beamed as she shared how her church had sealed an “amazing deal” with a national news company to cover the entire event—something that Mrs. Ford said she hoped would allow her church “to go the next mile.”
As if that weren’t enough to give Inaya an ulcer, Lyrica’s parents, lawyers themselves, were speaking to a team of lawyer friends about filing a lawsuit against the school because of Mrs. Ford’s clandestine and illegal actions against their daughter. Of course, Mrs. Ford didn’t know this yet because it wasn’t yet publicized. But Kayla had told Inaya about it a few weeks ago on their way to school.
“I don’t like it,” Kayla had said, her face contorted in disapproval. “It’ll just be a big media mess for nothing. Lyrica doesn’t even have any real proof against her anyway.”
At the sound of loud pounding on her bedroom door, Inaya fluttered her eyes open. Groggy, Inaya slowly realized she had drifted to sleep.
Frantic, Inaya threw the covers from herself and swung her legs to the floor. She banged the flat of her hand on the clock next to her bed to silence the alarm that must have been blaring for at least fifteen minutes already.
“Inaya!” A second later the door opened, and Veronica’s eyes widened in shock as she saw Inaya still in her pajamas. “What are you doing? Kayla is outside.”
“I’m coming,” Inaya said as she rushed to the closet and pulled clothes from some hangers.
Veronica shook her head. “She’s already running late. I’m going to tell her to go on without you.”
“I can stay home?” Inaya hadn’t meant to sound so hopeful, but she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to take a day off.
“What?” Her mother said, wrinkling her nose. “Girl, you better be ready in ten minutes. I’m not letting you play hooky.”
Before Inaya could respond, Veronica disappeared behind the slammed door.
It wasn’t until Inaya was sitting next to her mother in the car that Inaya realized that the last time her mother had taken her to school was on registration day. Inaya’s heart sank as Inaya realized that her mother might find out about her charade. She definitely couldn’t take off her khimaar and jilbaab while she was in the car, as she had been doing each day. But what if Mrs. Ford or a teacher saw Inaya dressed in Islamic clothes?
Inaya silently scorned herself for oversleeping. What had she been thinking?
Ironically, about a month ago, Inaya had hoped she’d be found out. She had grown so tired of the back and forth that she wished her mother would surprise her by stopping by the school or giving one of her teachers a call. Inaya had even purposefully left out a notice about the spring semester parent-teacher conference just so her mother would ask about it. But her mother had been so consumed by her own problems that she didn’t even see the note.
“How’s school going?” Veronica asked as she gripped the steering wheel and glanced at Inaya, only her eyes visible through her favored black veil.
Inaya forced a smile, and for some reason she thought about how Sa’ad and Veronica had been arguing a lot lately. Sometimes Veronica would ask Inaya to stay with Chris for the weekend, and Veronica went to stay with her own mother for a couple of days.
But recently, Sa’ad had been gone a lot, sometimes for more than a week at a time, and Inaya felt horrible for hoping that he’d never come back. Even Dana and Chris didn’t seem to be working out because Dana was furious at Chris for becoming Muslim.
“It’s fine,” Inaya said before looking out the passenger-side window.
But Sa’ad would always come back home eventually, and he and Veronica would behave like two newlyweds until Inaya grew sick at the sight of them cuddling, giggling, and holding hands.
In the midst of all of this, Inaya began to feel invisible, which was probably why she had started to wish her mother would discover her secret.
But recently, Inaya had decided it was best to keep things as they were. She wanted that Future Hope Scholarship after all, and if that meant Mrs. Ford never knowing she was Muslim, so be it.
When Veronica turned the car into the pathway leading to the school, there were still handfuls of students making their way to the building.
The rain was now a light drizzle, and the sun had started to break through the clouds. The humming of the car engine prompted some students to turn and look in the direction of the sound. Many did a double take at the sight of Inaya’s mother—who probably looked like a bona fide terrorist to them.
Mortified, Inaya turned her face away from the window and sank low in her seat. She hoped to God that no one would recognize her through the water-beaded glass.
Veronica glanced in Inaya’s direction, and Inaya pretended to be rummaging through her purse. She hoped her mother wouldn’t become suspicious enough to ask any questions—or to follow Inaya inside.
Fortunately, Veronica maneuvered the car through the car-packed parking lot instead of stopping near the main door, where school buses still blocked the front driveway of the school.
“Hopefully, you’re not too late,” Veronica said as she slowed the car to a stop near a side door where some students were making their way up the small flight of concrete steps.
Inaya nodded, but she barely heard her mother as she looked out the window to gauge how “safe” it was to walk from the car to the building while wearing obvious Islamic garb.
Inaya was grateful that she didn’t have to walk through the main door, but the side door put her near Mrs. Ford’s office. If Inaya wanted to remove her garments in a bathroom instead of the hall, she would have to pass the Student Affairs Office first. But even removing the clothes in the corridor meant she’d be in sight of Mrs. Ford if Mrs. Ford happened to be walking down the hall or standing outside her office door for any reason.
“As-salaamu’alaikum,” Veronica called out as Inaya opened the passenger side door and stepped outside.
“Wa’alaiku mus salaam,” Inaya mumbled, dropping her head as she shut the car door. She hoped no one would see her face before she got inside the building and stripped off the jilbaab and khimaar.
Inaya speed-walked to the side door without even as much as glancing back at her mother. She hoped her mother would assume her behavior was due to being late rather than to Inaya feeling ashamed to be seen with her.
Inaya opened the heavy door and stepped inside, her heart pounding wildly as she quickly surveyed the hall. Some of the few students in the corridor glanced in Inaya’s direction upon hearing the door open, but Inaya sighed relief when she realized that none of them were classmates or friends.
The door closed behind her, and Inaya instinctively glanced behind her through the rectangular glass to see if her mother was still outside. Fortunately, it was only a matter of seconds before her mother’s car disappeared from view.
From where Inaya stood, she could see that Mrs. Ford’s office door was propped open, which meant that Mrs. Ford was either inside or had run a quick errand and would return shortly.
Her face aflame in shame, Inaya turned her body toward the exit door and tugged at the khimaar until it hung on her neck and shoulders like a winter scarf. She yanked at the sides of the jilbaab until it revealed the outfit she’d chosen that morning in the rush to get ready for school.
Inaya ignored the guilt that gnawed at her as she realized her drab outfit choice was less flattering than the Islamic clothes she was shedding.
Taking a deep breath, Inaya turned and started down the hallway toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.
“Good lord,” Inaya heard a familiar voice say, and she looked up to find Mrs. Ford standing in front of her office door holding a manila folder in one hand. “Is it that cold, or are you unwell?”
“I’m not feeling well,” Inaya said quickly, running a hand over her hair self-consciously.
Mrs. Ford smiled. “Well, that explains it,” she said. “You must be just getting to school.”
Inaya nodded. “Yes, I was running late.”
“Too bad for you,” Mrs. Ford said with a frown, but Inaya knew the faculty advisor was only teasing her. “I went to find you after the announcement, but Mr. Rhodes said you were absent for homeroom.”
Inaya’s heart raced at Mrs. Ford’s reference to the Future Hope Scholarship announcement. Had Inaya won? Inaya was so hopeful that her breath caught.
“Congratulations, Inaya Donald,” Mrs. Ford said with a broad smile. “You’re our new Future Hope scholar.”