Saturday morning, my phone pings. A text from Kelly.

I flash back to her working on PakCore’s life model, giggling nervously while stroking his stupid sexy scalp.

A traitorous smirk breaches my defences. I miss Kelly. Besides, with a genocidal order of alien mercenaries on your back, well, who could say no to that?

I gaze up at the Matthews’ large, picturesque house. Hearing that Mrs M is enjoying a spa weekend in Swansea swung it for me.

Kelly throws open the door before I even ring the bell. She’s wearing a beige robe with a green hood pulled low over her eyes. Massive pointy ears poke out on either side.

‘Come early, you have,’ she says, hands folded in front of her, making that familiar nasalized voice.

‘You know, you’re the second person to go Yoda on me this week,’ I say.

‘Really?’ She rips off the hood, revealing a ballerina bun sitting on the crown of her head. Without her waves spilling everywhere, she almost looks like a different person. ‘Who was the first?’

So I go inside and tell her all about Idris and the Kablamo! Kon IV competition.

‘Oh my God!’ she says. ‘This is totally a sign. Place your hands upon the scared bun of prosperity.’ She pitches her head forward so my nose is virtually nesting in her hair, the fresh apple scent of it filling my nostrils.

She glances up at me. ‘Is that a thing? Can we make it a thing?’

‘Let’s not,’ I suggest.

‘OK. But at least tell me you see this is a sign.’

‘Not really …’ I admit, scratching an arm.

‘We were talking about collaborating, right? And then this drops. There aren’t any coincidences, Ilz. Just psychic engineering.’ She taps her head. ‘And prosperity-activating buns, obvs.’

‘So you’re still up for collabing?’ I ask, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

‘Did you hit your head on the way over? Of course I am!’

I shake my head. ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way, yeah, but I like doing things on my own. All my life, I’ve had people tell me what to do, how to act, what to say. And I’m a loser, so I do it.’

‘You’re not a loser …’ She gently pushes my chin with her fist.

‘Don’t lie, fam. You know I’m at the bottom of the food chain. If I didn’t have Imran and DedManz, I’d be in a full body cast by now.’

She drops her eyes because she knows it’s true.

I scratch my neck, gearing up to poke the elephant in the room. ‘Why’d you pay twenty quid to shave Imran’s head?’

Silence.

‘It was for charity,’ she eventually says, twisting an ear on her bathrobe. ‘Plus, he was being really funny.’

‘He’s not a nice guy …’

‘Nobody’s perfect.’

‘But he looks it. That’s the problem. I’ve seen so many girls get burned cos they got too close.’

‘Well I’m not “so many girls”. Besides, it was nice to get one up on Jade and Mels. They always have to be at the centre of everything. And for once it was me.’ She grins impishly. ‘Anyway … I believe we were talking about entering this competition?’

I swallow, trying to arrange my thoughts. ‘Comics is the one place I get to call the shots. The one place I cannot be controlled.’

Kelly’s eyes sparkle. ‘You can still have ownership, silly. I’ll be Jack Kirby to your Stan Lee. Look, you came up with the character, and you found out about the competition. This dream belongs to you. I’ll just figure out how to make your ideas gel.’

‘But it’s your dream too …’

She shakes her head. ‘My dream is to be the author of the sassiest, smartest, science fictioniest novel ever. I’ll settle for nothing less than a ten-book deal thankyouverymuch! But I’m pretty sure I need to work more on my writing before that can happen. So for me, your comic will be like an internship.’

‘Thanks, Kel,’ I say, smiling. ‘Swear down you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘C’mere, you li’l scamp!’ She draws me into a hug and rubs my back.

‘Check me out getting hugs off a Jedi Master! Right now, a whole fandom of nerds must be snapping their plastic lightsabers in protest.’

‘Grope you naughty, I must,’ Kelly says, making grabby hands.

‘Oh my days!’ I yelp, skipping away, then breaking into a full pelt.

She chases me round the house, both of us giggling like little kids, careening round corners, sliding down banisters, rolling under tables. I realize that Imran hasn’t stolen Kelly away from me after all. The Hair Shaving Incident was nothing more than a blip: normal service has resumed.

I skid into the kitchen, only the floor has recently been waxed, and my feet fly out from under me. Kelly follows too closely, and we both end up in a heap just in front of the oven. We howl with laughter, tears streaming from our eyes.

I suddenly sit up straight. Kelly stops laughing when she sees the expression on my face.

‘What’s up?’ she asks, panting for breath.

I turn to look at her, my eyes wider than Sparkle’s after she’s smelt food. The big bang that began after watching Idris’s video has finally reached critical mass.

‘Kelz, I got it!’ I announce. ‘I know how to make PakCore stand out from the crowd!’

My wild pencil marks streak and mesh across Kelly’s A3 pad. With a final zigzag and a couple of curlicues, I push the finished drawing towards her.

She stares at it with reverence. ‘This looks like Ms Mughal.’

I nod. ‘Don’t you get it? She makes the perfect superhero. High school teacher by day; defender of the oppressed by night. I honest to God saw Ms Mughal pull off a kung fu move one time when she kicked a door shut. Just imagine what seeing someone like her saving the world would do to a hater’s mind.’

Kelly makes hand explosions beside her head. ‘Ooh I could have fun writing her lines. Just think of the clapback potential!’

‘Make ’em savage,’ I reply, making fists.

‘I’m sold. So what are we calling this avenging angel?’

I scratch behind an ear, lower lip protruding. ‘Dunno yet. I reckon she’ll tell me her name when she’s ready.’

‘Makes sense. I’m calling my flu story Project X until it’s finished. That’s when you know what the heart of the story is, then the name just pops out at you.’ She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing my drawing. ‘Hmm!’

‘That don’t sound like a good hmm …’

‘Something else just popped out at me. Two somethings, in fact. You’re definitely going to have to modify the design.’

I glance at my drawing. Poised like a lioness on the hunt, my superhero’s jilbab ebbs and flows around her like liquid silk, green eyes flashing with formidable vengeance. The Living Shadows have gathered round in a circle of doom, creeping forwards, electrical fangs bared. But the smirk on her full lips makes it clear they don’t know who they’re dealing with.

I look up at Kel. ‘Why, what’s wrong with it?’

‘Tits and ass.’

‘But I didn’t!’ I yammer.

‘You most definitely diddo, kiddo,’ Kelly says, placing a hand on her hip. ‘And look at that micro waist! How’s a girl to kick bad-guy arse on an invisible stomach? Try mansplaining your way out of that!’

I’m roasting so bad right now, you could have me with gravy.

‘If you want this character to be unique, Ilz, we have to give her realistic proportions so our fans won’t end up aspiring anorexics.’

‘I dunno how it happened!’ I say, sweating a river – I don’t want Kelly thinking I’m a perv. That’s Imran’s job. Amma taught me better.

‘Relax – you’re just a victim of everyday sexism.’ She sighs affectedly. ‘Women have been objectified to the point we’ve almost stopped noticing it.’ Kelly gestures to the picture. ‘Why do some Muslim women wear a gown anyway?’

I take a moment to consider all the women in my family who wear jilbabs. ‘I guess so you have to listen to what they’re saying instead of checking them out.’

Kelly drums her fingers along her jawline. ‘Like an objectification shield?’

I shrug.

‘That actually makes a whole lot more sense than the oppression angle we hear so much about.’

‘Yeah, the media loves its daily dose of shit-stirring,’ I say. ‘My sister’s a beauty vlogger. On World Hijab Day, she posted a video special in which she interviewed some of her mates about why they wear the hijab.’

‘I’d like to see that,’ Kelly says, beaming. ‘I think all women should wear whatever they want without being judged or banned or assaulted.’

In her Yoda robe, she looks so totally comfortable; so unapologetically Kelly. Does Jade even know this side of her exists?

‘OK, Lieutenant Mian – stand by to improve the character design on my mark,’ Kelly says, raising a finger in the air before bringing it down sharply. ‘Engage objectification shielding!’

‘Aye aye, cap’n.’ I flip the page and start over, sketching a less sexualized version of my character, this time bursting through a stained-glass window in an explosion of coloured glass and smoke. A flickering in my peripherals distracts me. For a moment, as if it was really there, I see the vape jellyfish Imran blew back at the abandoned park over half-term coursing through the air.

I blink, and it’s gone.

‘Oh my days!’ I practically scream as an idea replaces the jellyfish. ‘I know what her superpower is: Phantom Breath!’

‘Explanation, please?’

Over the years, I’ve watched Imran smoke everything from shisha and spliffs to bongs. This is my opportunity to turn something evil into something good. ‘She has mystical lungs, which produce Phantom Rings. These rings can shift between gas and solid.’

‘Deposition to sublimation, eh?’ Kelly mutters, tenting her fingers.

‘They can also change size. So she can blow one at an enemy and, depending on what she’s looking for, can bind them like a straitjacket. Or strangle them into unconsciousness with a shrinking ring round the throat.’

‘Gruesome. I like!’ Kelly says, nodding like a bobblehead.

‘Or she can blow acidic vapour, which can eat straight through metal. You know – to melt guns and that.’

Kelly waves her hand in the air as if she’s in class. ‘Ooh! Ooh! How about this? She can blow an entire cloud of acid rain and melt enemies in a torrential downpour!’

I consider it. ‘Or if she concentrates hard enough, she can blow a cloud that envelops enemies before switching to thundercloud mode and frying the fools in an electrical storm!’

Kelly claps her hands excitedly. ‘Any thoughts on a name yet?’

In my imagination, fresh from cuffing enemies’ hands behind their backs with frisbee-like Phantom Rings, the character glances over her shoulder. A cop is asking her who to thank. She starts telling him thanks aren’t necessary, then thinks better of it. Going anonymous gives the press a free pass to pick a name for her. Muslim Maiden or Burka Bae. She tries not to retch, then announces her name as clear as a bell.

‘Big Bad Wafiyyah,’ I announce. ‘But we’ll shorten it to Big Bad Waf.’

‘As in the Big Bad Wolf?’

‘Think about it! The wolf goes around terrorizing the three little pigs by doing what?’

Kelly looks baffled, then a smile creeps across her lips. ‘Huffing and puffing!’

‘Exactly.’

‘Swear to God, you’re a creative genius, Ilz! I can practically see your brain throbbing!’

‘Team effort,’ I say sheepishly.

‘We’re totally making Waf’s eyes hazel though, because yours are really pretty.’

‘You think?’ I say, wrinkling my brow.

She prods me in the centre of my chest. ‘Don’t milk it, mate, or Yoda will have to get handsy with you again.’

We burst out laughing.

Kelly and me spend the rest of the morning coming up with ideas for Big Bad Waf, feeding off each other’s energy and excitement. Our minds form an almost telepathic link. I’ll start out describing something, and she’ll finish off, somehow knowing exactly what I was going to say. Kelly reins in my craziest ideas and plays Sexism Police. The fact that DedManz has rubbed off on me in little ways I hadn’t even realized is actually pretty disturbing.

When the pizza guy arrives, Kelly insists on talking to him in Yoda-speak. I try not to laugh.

‘The crazy is strong with this one,’ he says, winking as he takes his tip.

Kelly has ordered us a feast, which we spread out across the dinner table. Starting at opposite ends, we wolf down the insanely delicious food followed by illegal amounts of ice cream – the kind made with clotted cream.

With full bellies, we return to our creative brainstorming. By the end of the day, we have enough material for an entire series of comics. I don’t say it out loud – don’t want to jinx it – but I’m starting to believe me and Kelly have a very good crack at taking home the big prize.