Chapter 21
A few days had passed since Yusuf had found the poster and stormed off to his room, and the house had been kind of peaceful and normal since, which was a relief. I’d successfully managed to avoid any more drama in the lunch hall with Jayden after his suspension ended because I’d brought sandwiches from home.
This week at school I’d offered to help Janae, who sat next to me in physics, Sheena in chemistry, and even Daniel in English, by passing them my notes, hoping they’d remember that I was still Aaliyah and not a dangerous terrorist.
It was Sports Day and I was feeling good about it. This was my chance to be the usual Aaliyah — the always-willing-to-help-her-house-win Aaliyah — and be as equal as everyone else on the athletics track. And it would be so cool if I won my race. I’d love to run around celebrating and stick my face in Lisa’s to show her I didn’t care what she thought of me, even if it had taken me a whole week to pluck up the courage to even think of facing her after what she’d said.
I switched off the 3W song about loving yourself, said bye to Furball — who was hovering near her litter tray, clearly needing privacy — and headed down. I tied my hair in a messy bun before grabbing my scarf. The best thing about wearing a hijab was that I saved at least ten minutes every morning because I no longer had to try and get my hair to look right. I smoothed my hijab around my face and took a breath before I looked in the mirror in our hallway. There, I told myself. All your worries are covered. No one can see them. This gives you power, it doesn’t take it.
I thought about the post I’d come across on Snappo when looking at running videos, about a women’s beach handball team who had been fined for not wearing bikini bottoms because they wanted to cover their butts. When I’d searched for more details, so many newspapers were outraged and the team had support from around the world, criticizing the board who had fined them for not letting the women cover up and dress how they wanted. Some pop star I’d barely heard of had even offered to pay the fines. It gave me hope that people who actually used their brains would also support Muslim women who didn’t do sport, for the choices they wanted to make. There had to be more of the nicer people in the world than racists like Sasha and Jayden. I guess I just had to find them.
After having lunch, I walked quickly toward my locker. I smiled at Feifei and her friends when she passed, and anyone else who looked my way. I was focused on proving I was the friendly — not a terrorist — Muslim at school.
YOU BETTA TAKE THAT THING OFF YOUR HEAD, OTHERWISE YOUR DEAD!!!
The walls echoed with the WHAM of lockers slamming, kids shouting over each other, their shoes scuffling away as I froze.
Another note, this one written on a greasy folded-up piece of lined paper, had been wedged into my locker door. So now I’m dead if I wear one? My stomach flipped. I wasn’t going to let this person — I bet it was Jayden because of the dodgy spelling, or maybe even Sasha disguising her writing — tell me what I could wear or do. Especially not them. But there was something else as well. When I unfolded the note with the tips of my fingers, trying not to touch any of the greasy bits, a small rasher of pink, crispy meat fell out of it and onto the floor. It looked and smelled like bacon.
I flung the note away, closed my eyes and sighed heavily. Barbaric. Barbaric. Barbaric.
No actually, correction. Evil. Evil. Evil. I wanted to storm into Mrs. Owen’s office and bring her here. She was our head teacher — it was her responsibility. She could pick up the note and see for herself what kind of horrible people she had in this school. I wasn’t going to touch it.
Then again, what was the point? There was no point in telling any teachers, or anyone in this stupid school. Look what happened when I told Mrs. Owen that Sasha had attacked me. Absolutely nothing. She would probably just agree with the note writer. No one wanted me to wear a hijab. Not even Mum.
I had thought that by coming out visibly as a Muslim, I’d be able to make people see we weren’t bad. Instead I was just getting abused and attacked, and now I was getting actual death threats.
I pulled out my PE kit, throwing the books I didn’t need back onto the metal shelf, and banged my locker shut. As I turned into the main corridor, heading toward the changing rooms, I bumped straight into Lisa.
She gave me a closed-lip smile. A tiny one. As if she wanted to stop and talk. I gave her a side-eye and walked off.
I keeled over on the grass at the edge of the makeshift athletics racetrack, out of breath from the hundred-meter sprint. I ignored Jayden and his mates jeering at me from a distance and hoped Mum and her parent friends had somehow missed it.
“Here.” Sukhi passed me my water bottle.
“Thanks.” I sat up, squinting in the hot sun, and took a big sip, then poured water over my scarf to cool myself down. Before the race, I’d redone my hijab and worn it like a headwrap with a bow on top and left my neck clear, so it wouldn’t flap up on my face as I ran. Mum had said I looked like the writer Zadie Smith when I’d practiced it last night, and that didn’t bother me one bit, even though I was aiming for more of author Tahereh Mafi chic.
“It’s not your fault you fell over Leanne,” said Sukhi. “No one would’ve seen that coming.”
“I know, right? Just my luck I was going too fast and didn’t have time to stop when she buckled — our house lost because of me. Ah, well … there’s always next year.” I sat with my knees to my chest, watching the two-hundred-meter race, which was about to begin. I’d really wanted to beat my bronze and get a gold medal this year, even silver. It would’ve been amazing to have helped my house win so they’d know I hadn’t changed just because I looked different, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. It was my fault for dropping out of running club to do library duty.
Kids who had already run, or were waiting to, chattered all over the field. The Year Eight two-hundred-meter runners were focused, arms ready, in position to run for their lives. A lump formed in my throat when I realized Jo would’ve been running in this race if she hadn’t lost her leg. She was still in hospital. I hung my head and stared at the dry patchy grass beneath me, swallowing. Her whole life had been ruined by that one evening.
The whistle blew and off they went, everyone giving it their best shot.
Once they’d passed and everyone had cheered them on, I searched across the field to see if I could spot Mum. I wondered if she’d seen me fly over Leanne and land flat on my front. Ouch. She probably hadn’t, otherwise she’d have run onto the track and embarrassed me even more. I brushed the small graze on my palm, I’d been lucky I’d got away with only grass stains.
I spotted a group of parents, Sukhi’s mum among them. A bit further away, Mum stood alone under a tree in her work suit, handbag over her shoulder, staring at her phone. She was probably taking a call.
The race finished and the next group positioned themselves. Mum was still standing at the edge of the field, but her eyes were focused on the racetrack, her face stern. Her arms were folded, so her call must be over. Why didn’t she go join the other parents? Usually she’d be right at the center, chatting and laughing away.
And then I realized.
I should have known something was off at the weekend. For the first time in years, Mum and Dad hadn’t gone to Sukhi’s parents’ party. Mum never missed it, but this time she said she had a headache, and Dad stayed home too. My mum and Sukhi’s mum must have had a fight. I’d never seen them standing apart like this. I realized I hadn’t heard them speak on the phone for ages, and Mum had Sukhi’s mum’s contact page up on her phone last week — she might’ve been deleting it.
I bet they had fought about the terrorist being a Muslim.
A wave of nausea washed over me. Everything was changing because of these terrorists, and not just for me. It looked like Mum had lost a best friend too.
I needed to do something. But I had no idea what I should do.