SAFIYA

JANUARY 10, 2022

Truth: It is more important to outthink your enemy than outfight them.

Lie: Love your enemies because they bring out the best in you.

Asma practically body slam–hugged me when she saw me at my locker Monday morning after I got back from suspension.

“Jeez. I’ve only been gone since Thursday.”

“During which time a threatening note about you was plastered all over school.”

“I got a text saying the same thing, too.”

“What!” Asma’s yell was probably heard two floors above us. People turned to stare, but I shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Because, one, I thought you might freak out. Not sure where I got that idea from. And, two, I knew you were knee-deep in prep for your cousin’s wedding, so I didn’t want to mess up the fun.”

“So much shopping.” Asma nodded with a small chuckle. “My mom is going overboard with the outfits, but my cousin wanted a full-on Pakistani wedding. So I need, like, a ton of new clothes.”

“Plus, you have the added bonus of missing any Winter Ball drama since the nikah is the same weekend.”

“Yes! I’ll be scarfing biryani and rasmalai and hanging with my cousins. But hello! Of course, I’m freaking out that you got a text!” Asma gently punched me in the arm.

“Ow!”

“You wouldn’t be interfering by calling me. Please don’t make me burst into a musical number about what friends are for, okay?”

I nodded and laughed.

Asma continued. “What did your parents say? Did you call the police?”

“Uh… no. I didn’t see the point.” I twisted my lips and looked away, waiting for Asma to get incensed.

“What! Please tell me you did not delete it.”

“No.” I sighed. “I saved it, but seriously, you know the police wouldn’t do anything about it, and it would be a huge waste of time. It’s a prank from some troll. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh… okay, except there was also a smoke bomb and Nazi graffiti at school.”

“Fine. I hear you, but it came up from a private number, and Richard agreed that the police would be as useless as Hardy. I’m putting it out of my mind.”

Asma grabbed my shoulders and shook them a little. “Oh, Richard agreed? The plot thickens. Or, should I say, hottens.”

I shook my head. “That makes no sense.”

“Uh, yeah, it does. I didn’t realize Richard dropping off your book was going to be like a date. Were dimples bared?”

“Oh my God. It wasn’t like that. I—”

“Please, tell me, what it was like like. Were there longing looks? His fingers grazing your hand? Something that made you see cartoon hearts instead of cold, hard logic?”

My cheeks warmed with embarrassment as I covered my eyes with my hands.

“Oh my God!” Asma continued before I could defend myself. “There was totally grazing!”

“Shhhh!” I bent my head down and leaned into my locker. “Okay, there might have been, a little, uh, flirting. And he maybe brought me a garbage cookie from Medici.”

Asma’s jaw dropped. “A garbage cookie?” She did a little twirl. “It must be love.”

“Ha ha, I doubt it. I think half the girls in this school have crushes on him.”

“So what? I am one-hundred-percent, absolutely in support of you having crushes, and you’re more crushworthy than anyone I know. Don’t tell Usman I said that.” Asma jokingly glanced around.

I laughed. “I swear I’ll take it to the grave.”

Asma continued. “Look, Richard is over-the-top cute and charming, and a lot of girls do have crushes on him. And he’s definitely… uh… reciprocated some of those crushes. There’s probably been reciprocation all over this school. Make sure you don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”

I paused. Yes, Richard had dated around. And I’d dated… no one. But I’d never seen him be anything but a solid good guy. “Are we using reciprocation as a euphemism now? If so, don’t worry. I’ve never reciprocated. Reciprocation is not something I’m casual about. My ability to say no is strong. Even in the face of dimples and hotness, I can make reasoned decisions about, uh, reciprocating.”

“Good. Now go forth and have much flirty fun and maybe even get a little mushy. I’m totally on the side of you letting other people see past your hard candy coating to your soft gooey interior.”

I grinned and nodded but cringed a little on the inside. Asma was right. People did see me as indifferent sometimes, or tough, but I had to be. When you’re the odd one out, you don’t want to let people know how easily you can break.

Asma smiled. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell your parents about the flyer or the text, either?”

Busted. “I couldn’t. They are so worried about Jawad’s disappearance—I guess they met his mom at the store once or twice? I didn’t want to make it worse. My mom has been praying nonstop for Jawad and also for me. They’re so scared of something else happening. My dad’s gone out a couple times to help scour the neighborhood for clues, but they didn’t find anything, and there’s no leads on that car, either.”

“Ugh. It’s only been a few days, and he’s barely in the news. It’s like they’re forgetting him already,” Asma said.

“Except for conspiracy theorists. Have you seen what some supposed news sites are saying? That maybe the whole thing is a hoax to try and place the blame for Islamophobia on the right wing? I mean, duh, we don’t need hoaxes to blame the alt-right for hate crimes. We have actual facts.”

“You know it’d be different if he were some rich white kid who’d gone missing,” Asma said as the first bell rang.

I slammed my locker door shut. “That’s the perfect story idea for my next column.”

“If Hardy ever lets you write a next one.”

“Heading his way now. Wish me luck.”

“Ha, he’ll be the one who needs it.” Asma smiled as she turned down the hall, her bright-yellow sweater like a beacon making its way through the throng of students.

I paused. For a second, I swore I smelled incense in the hallway. Weird because I smelled it while walking to school this morning, too. It was musky and woodsy. I felt the faintest pressure on my eardrum, then a ringing for a second. Before it faded, I swore it sounded like a faraway voice—like the one I heard the other day in the store. The whisper when I was alone. Maybe I needed more sleep. I sighed as I dragged my heels to Hardy’s office.

“You’re aware, Ms. Mirza, that I can call the admissions office at Northwestern and relate to them your various escapades since your acceptance? You wouldn’t be the first person to have a college offer rescinded.” Hardy sat at his desk, his palms flat on the surface in front of him; he looked ready to spring up at any moment. His nostrils were wide, like he wished he could breathe out fire.

I thought he was bluffing. I assumed he was, but there was a small part of me that was scared I’d put my scholarship at risk. Both my DuSable scholarship and the financial aid I’d gotten for college. No way we could afford Northwestern without it. But honestly, it was bullshit that I was the only one getting any consequences for everything that had gone down since we got back from break. “I understand, Dr. Hardy. But I was reporting the news.”

“You were trying to cause trouble.”

“The trouble was caused by whoever that Ghost Skin person is.”

Hardy talked right over me. “And you were insubordinate, posting that column without permission. You are on a very tight leash from now on. Nothing, and I mean nothing, from you is going to be up on the Spectator site without preapproval. And you’ve lost password posting privileges. You are one tiny misstep from being permanently banned from the paper.”

Tight leash? What the hell. Like I’m a dog or something? He was fine with cancel culture as long as it suited him. I tried to hide my anger, my disgust, but I couldn’t. This was exactly what Hardy wanted. He was like one of those guys who thought it was worse to be called a racist than to actually be a racist. “What about Ghost Skin? The swastika? The poison threat on my column that was plastered all around school? Any chance that person is going to get caught? It’s like you’d rather shut down the newspaper than white supremacists!” Oops. I was such a blurter when I got angry. I knew I was pushing it.

Hardy narrowed his eyes at me. “It is being handled. The adults in the room do not need your pesky questions or interference.” Hardy clenched his jaw, then scratched his neck, which was getting redder as he spoke, like his tie was tightening itself. “You have been volunteered by me to assist in the library during your morning study hall for the next three weeks. You start tomorrow. See if you can’t help this school that has given you so much. Maybe learn to be grateful for all that you’ve received.”

“But, I use that time for Spectator—”

“Very. Short. Leash. Ms. Mirza. You’re dismissed.”

I balled my hands into fists, my brain about to explode as I walked out of the principal’s office.

Richard was waiting for me outside the door. “Hey, you okay?”

“I… you… hi,” I said, my shoulders relaxing from my ears. “How are you here?”

“I saw you walk in when I was getting to school, figured you might need to see a friendly face after dealing with Hardy.”

I grinned. “That’s so sweet of you. And, yeah, he’s the worst. He’s making me work in the library during study hall as punishment or whatever.”

“What? Can he do that? That’s, like, indentured servitude or some bullshit.”

“Apparently he can, by threatening my scholarship here and at Northwestern.” I sighed. I was angry and scared, all my feelings jumbled up inside me. On top of all that, it was not escaping my notice that this was another thoughtful thing Richard had done. And I liked it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, touching my elbow. “It’s so unfair. I’m here if you ever want to—”

“Place a curse on Hardy?”

“Sure.” He laughed. “I’ll grab a cauldron and bring my eye of newt.” The bell rang, sending us in different directions.

Richard was right; none of it was fair. None of it made sense. I refused to be sidelined reshelving books in the library when I could be using the time to figure out who Ghost Skin was and what they were after, since the school was clearly not going to do it. Hardy wanted to shut me up. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.