Chapter 25
That night, I fell asleep snuggling next to Furball with visions of everyone in Lambert smiling and happy together at the summer fete. And maybe because I actually slept properly after so long, the chirping birds didn’t bother me the next morning. The people chatting at the bus stop, the sharp morning breeze and music blaring from cars made me feel alive.
Sukhi had another dentist appointment, this time for her braces to be fitted, so I left for school on my own. I almost skipped my way there in my head, even though I kept my feet firmly planted on the actual pavement. If I could get Yusuf to come to the fete and away from Darren, and raise money for Jo and the other Ratcliffe Academy students who were injured at the concert, everything would get better. I just knew it. I tucked the flaps of my scarf further down my shirt collars as I walked. Maybe people in Lambert would finally realize that all Muslims weren’t bad and would never want to hurt them like that vile terrorist.
As I turned the corner onto the quiet side street that led to the school, my head jerked back violently. I lurched forward and my knees locked. Someone had yanked my scarf from behind. I spun around, panic rising through me, but whoever it was had disappeared. My stomach went rock hard and my ears throbbed. I scanned the parked cars and terraced houses and readjusted my hijab. No sign of anyone.
A minute earlier I’d wanted to skip, but now I wanted to run to school. To somewhere safe. A minute earlier I was happy. Now my every limb shook.
It wasn’t easy running when my whole core had turned to ice. I finally made it to the end of the road, where more kids traipsed along the pavement toward school. My heart was beating so hard, I was sure if I touched my chest, I’d feel it trying to thud out.
Who pulled my scarf? It could’ve been Jayden, or Sasha, or Darren — or anyone. I had no idea. What I did know was that I didn’t want to walk alone again.
After I’d finished covering for Mrs. Patel in the library at lunch, I met Sukhi on the field. I sat, trying to seek out the handful of Black, South Asian, and Chinese kids, smattered about like a little ground pepper that had accidentally fallen in a saltshaker. I wondered if any of them had ever been attacked for who they were. There were a few Muslims in Year Ten and Eleven, but I didn’t know them, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t just go up to them and ask them how they felt. They probably wouldn’t talk to me anyway.
“You’re quiet today,” said Sukhi, her words muffled through her new braces. I could barely hear her above the kids screaming and chatting across the school field. “Ali?” She leaned her face into mine.
Without warning, my eyes prickled with tears.
“Ali, talk to me. What’s happened?” Sukhi asked, her blurry body now turned toward me, her knees knocking into mine.
“It was something, but then it wasn’t,” I managed to say between sobs. I was glad we were sitting at the edge of the field where no one could hear or see me.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone pulled my scarf in the street — but they didn’t get it off ’cause it was wrapped around my head tight. So nothing really happened.”
“Oh my god! Who?”
“I don’t actually know. I didn’t see anyone.”
“I bet it was Jayden! Who else would do that?” Sukhi shook her head.
“Sukhi, it could literally be anyone … I mean, everyone seems to hate Muslims right now.”
“Yeah, but look at what he did yesterday. Blatantly pulled your water bottle out of your backpack and chucked it down the corridor.” Sukhi pulled out a daisy from the grass. “And I can’t believe when I complained, Mrs. Owen said he’d been ‘triggered’ and the concert had affected people in different ways and then stared at your scarf, as if it was your fault he did that!”
I shrugged and sighed. I had no way of proving it, even if it was Jayden. And what difference would it make anyway? He got away with everything — even chucking water bottles down corridors when Mrs. Owen was around.
Sukhi studied me as if I was interesting to look at. It made me wonder if I’d imagined it. I mean, nothing happened and no one was there. Maybe I had.
“Forget it.” I wiped my face with my hands. “People go through a lot worse. Just ignore me.”
Sukhi pursed her lips. After a long second she said, “Why does everyone say that Muslim women are forced to cover up? You aren’t.”
I shrugged. “They’re not; you hardly see proper hijabis in Pakistan or even India — none of my family there wear it. If it was forced, every Muslim woman would wear a hijab and they obviously don’t — my mum’s friends don’t. There’s not one way to be a Muslim, it’s up to you how you express it.” I looked at the school buildings in the distance. “I guess people say that because some women are forced in some cultures. My mum gets so upset when she deals with cases in court where some Muslim families treat their women badly. She says they’ve twisted the religion and want to control women because of what their culture and tradition back home has taught them.”
Sukhi threw the now petal-less daisy into the grass. “Yeah, like my uncle’s always telling me to wear a salwar kameez at home, and he always makes me feel like I’m doing something bad if I don’t.”
“Yeah, Mum says it’s always men telling women what to do and how to dress.”
Sukhi looked at me for a moment. “Do you feel hot in it?”
I laughed. It was a fair question, one I’d often wondered about before I started wearing a hijab. “It’s weird, but I don’t. I like the way it keeps my hair off my neck and face, and also” — I swatted away a small fly buzzing near my cheek — “I won’t get any nits.”
She snorted. “Oh my god, that’s so true!” Sukhi pulled another daisy from the grass. “So do you wanna talk about the fete fundraiser idea?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, sitting up straight, feeling more energetic. “I thought we could do a collection for the Ratcliffe concert bombing victims.” I ducked as a bee came buzzing far too close.
“The PTA is already planning a collection at the summer fete,” she said in a matter-of-fact way, pulling out another daisy and picking its tiny white petals out one by one.
“Yeah, but ours would be different, it would be organized by actual school kids!” I said proudly.
“The PTA are working with the student council, Aaliyah,” said Sukhi, looking at me over her glasses.
“Oh … okay,” I said, feeling deflated. Maybe there was nothing I could do to bring everyone together. I was just a kid. It was stupid of me to even think I could keep Yusuf away from the rally, and get my ex-best friend to help us do something good. It was even more stupid that I thought I could do something about the hate spreading through Lambert. So dense.
“But,” Sukhi said, tapping my arm to get my attention, “we could help the PTA, which is obviously bigger and more organized than just us, and that would still count?”
“Oh, yeah!” I sat up. “And we could speak to the student council to find out more about the PTA’s plan for the fete and ask if we could help them raise money for the concert bombing victims.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. So then we’re helping everyone involved.”
“I’ll speak to Jonah. He’s my form student council representative. And you speak to yours … who’s yours?” I knew how the student council decided on things because I had been a member in Year Seven; we just needed them to bring this idea to their next meeting.
“Leon Abbott, I think,” Sukhi said.
I stared at my school shoes. “It’s weird how since the concert, I get upset so quickly. As if I’m made of eggshells. I got so worked up about raising money, I hadn’t realized that we didn’t have to do it all by ourselves. We could just help the PTA. Duh!”
“Yeah, you worry too much,” she said as if it was just a normal thing to say.
“Can you ask your mum if she’ll let us help too?” I asked. Sukhi’s mum was on the PTA. “That way we’ll have someone to directly speak to at the student council and the PTA? Maybe she could come over this weekend and we could all plan together?”
The fundraising might just be the thing that would get Mum and her talking again. I focused on the grass between my fingers wondering why they had fallen out. I daren’t ask Sukhi what had happened because I didn’t want it to affect us. I only had one good friend now, and I wasn’t going to lose her as well.