Chapter 28

Mum and Dad grounded Yusuf for the weekend for coming in late and not telling them where he’d been. I thought about asking him, but I knew it would be pointless. At least he didn’t have any fresh bruises, or none that I could see.

I’d cleaned my room, got rid of Furball’s old litter and done my homework, even found out what “far right” meant, and Yusuf had just surfaced. I quickly finished my message to Jonah David about our joint geography homework and switched off my playlist before I started brainstorming activities for the fete fundraiser to make sure we raised lots of money.

“Aaliyah!” Mum shouted from downstairs. “Come here!”

“I’m working, Mum!” I’d listed seven fundraising ideas to give to the student council and PTA but I needed more.

Suddenly my door pushed open. It was Mum with a half-full laundry basket in one hand and her iPhone in the other. I quickly spun my desk chair to face her and hide Furball, who was thankfully asleep in her bed.

“We need to talk,” she said, lines strewn across her forehead.

Silently, I willed Furball not to wake up or move at the sound of Mum’s voice. I tried to look completely calm and normal. I sat up straight, and placed my hands in my lap, as if I’d just had elocution lessons at a posh school. “Why?”

“The school sent an email to parents on Friday … last night. I just saw it. They’re banning the hijab. Starting Monday.”

“Seriously?” My mouth went dry.

“Seriously,” she said.

“Oh my god, can they even do that? Single me out like that?”

“Well, they’re not singling you out, really. They’ve banned all religious symbols from school grounds.”

“What for? What’s the reason?” I asked. If I frowned any harder, I’d get wrinkles.

“Apparently, it’s in the best interest of our pupils,” she said, doing quote marks with her fingers. “And, to be honest, I actually think it is.”

I gawked at her. “How can you say that?”

“Listen, my beautiful baby girl, you have your whole life ahead to wear a hijab. I don’t want you getting into fights or being bullied because of this. It’s not safe for anyone right now, and for a Muslim woman, it’s downright dangerous.”

“Why are you still wearing one, then?” I asked.

I pulled the charger cable out of my phone to message Sukhi and Lisa. We needed a plan.

“I’m a lot older than you, and I’ve been wearing it a long time. It’s a part of me. It has crossed my mind before, but I don’t think I could ever take it off,” she said, looking around. “It helps me be a better person. Makes me stop myself when I’m about to say or do something that wouldn’t be in character with being a good Muslim. And anyway, it’s not like the courts often meet hijabi women. They assume we’re all locked up in the kitchen.”

I was just about to tell her, “EXACTLY! That’s why I wear it!” when her face lit up.

“Look at your room!” Mum was clearly trying to change the subject. She scanned the space and smiled so wide, I could see all her teeth. “I can’t believe I’m seeing the day where your laundry is in the basket, and you’re regularly vacuuming. And you even opened your window to air it out without me asking you to! UNBELIEVABLE! You’ve really matured recently, Aaliyah. I’m proud of you.”

I heard a faint rustle from behind me. Oh god. My face dropped, she was going to spot Furball. I knew it. I rubbed an eyebrow, waiting for her discovery.

I gave her a fake smile — the kind I used to put on for photos when I was being forced to pose as a kid, full of teeth. I needed her to leave before her delight in me evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “I suppose it was about time, right? You’ve got plenty to do,” I said, trying my best to stop my leg from jerking. Little did she know that the cleaning was because of Furball and me not wanting to give Mum a reason to come into my room.

“Aww, yes. Looks like this is one room I won’t have to worry about from now on.” Her hand lingered on the door handle. “But your bed could be made better.” She stepped toward it and bent to lift the corner of my duvet off the floor.

Oh, no, she was going to see where Furball had scratched the base of my bed before I’d made the cat scratcher! I reached forward from my chair fast to block her and neaten the duvet myself. “Sorry, I’ll work on perfecting it.”

“How are you doing, Aaliyah? Are you sleeping better?” She stepped back.

“Yeah, kind of,” I chirped, hoping she wouldn’t want to talk about the concert again. I’d much rather block it out. As long as I didn’t see Darren’s face, or think about what actually happened to the people at the concert, I was doing a lot better than that first week. And I guessed focusing on wearing my hijab and avoiding bullies at school was a massive distraction.

“Your dad said he wanted you to go to the supermarket with him, but I told him you’re still not keen on anywhere big and enclosed that’s full of strangers.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“Do you think we should try and go soon, though?”

“No! I don’t need to!” I closed my eyes and blocked the image of the crowd in the concert hall coming into my head. For some reason I was fine in school and outside, but the thought of a big indoor space like a supermarket made me shudder.

“Okay, okay … AAAATHCCHOOOO!” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Ugh, this weather is really affecting me this year. I’d better go and take my antihistamine.”

My stomach rolled as she left my room. I glanced under my desk and saw two bright yellow dilated pupils staring at me. Furball was sitting up, her ears sharp. I bit my lip. “What if it’s not the weather affecting Mum this year, my little fluffball?” She stretched toward me, and I picked her up and plopped her in my lap.

As Furball settled in, purring, I looked out of the window and thought about the dumb people who believed a piece of cloth was dangerous. That having a faith was scary. Who’d made this ban happen? We had to get it reversed.

This wasn’t just about me. This was about all of us at school being able to express who we were. Like we’d discussed in the citizenship lesson; this was about not letting anyone divide us, but instead coming together by respecting our differences — not trying to erase them.

For the first time ever, I felt like I had a bigger purpose running through my veins. I wasn’t going to let them make me feel like a victim. We were in the twenty-first century, so why was Mrs. Owen dragging us backward? Why was she giving in to pressure from parents and racist people in the neighborhood? I had to try and speak to her. Make her see sense.