Hijabi Style: The Surprisingly Average Life Of A Teenage Muslim Girl

It's All In The Art

People often say that life can't happen without change. No matter how small changes are, they come hand in hand with time and life. It's a package deal.

Honestly though, some things did stay the same since last September. Deena and I are still close though we get annoyed at each other easily. I still haven't told Ummi what really caused my seizure. Ummi is still unemployed, but puts her effort into volunteer work. She's a spokesperson for our local mosque. And me- well, I still go to Caldwell Prep.

But even though some things have remained constant, other things have changed- thankfully, for the better. I have two awesome friends- Tessa, who felt horrible about not being there for me a year back, and Kennedy, my hero. I barely get any rude comments now, and when I do, I just return the favor. My faith in Islam is stronger than ever, thanks to Allah. And, I've fallen in love!

Still, it's impossible to have all good things happen for you without facing any issues. I still have to overcome my love for Major, which is shaping up not to be so hard, since he is obviously avoiding me; I don't see him in the halls anymore. Today is Thursday, however, so naturally, my stomach is doing somersaults inside me.

Peeking into the classroom from the doorway, I see that Major is already in class, beside his post. I take a deep breath and walk over to my own post, adjacent to his.

"Oil pastels!" Hop cries out as I keep my eyes lowered, afraid of what Major's reaction will be if our eyes meet.

"Easels, everyone! It's now or never!" he continues.

I set up my easel quietly and start towards the pastels on the far side of the classroom.

"Hey, Yasmeen." Major smiles at me, handing over some of his pastels. I guess the reaction that I'd been dreading was a totally nonchalant one.

"Um, hi." I answer, a little confused. So things were casual now? I suppose that I can go with it. For his sake, if not for my own. Maybe?

"How's it going?"

"Okay, stop." This is ridiculous.

"Stop what?" he almost growls. Is this dude bipolar or what?

"This is too weird. Come on, you know it is."

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" he asks, blatantly exasperated.

"Well- just- don't pretend. It doesn't help things. We can't suddenly be all buddy-buddy."

"It's my only option at this point."

"That's not true!" I insist.

"Okay, hear me when I say this. I'm in love with you. And you don't like me. So the least you can do is acknowledge me, don't you think?" he hissed at me, since the class had quieted down.

"Me? Where the hell have you been all week?! Definitely making sure you don't have to acknowledge me, right?" I retort, smearing pastel on the canvas in anger.

Just then, Hop comes around. "Yasmeen," he says from behind me. My heart stops out of fear that he may have heard the entire conversation. "This is beautiful. So passionate. So honest."

"Really?" I question, in disbelief.

"Of course. Look hard at what you've created. It's all in the art." Hop encourages.

I stare at the line of red pastel on the canvas. I wouldn't have called it beautiful, but I guess he was spot on about everything else. Right there in bright red was my frustration with Major. In it was the swell of my heart whenever he was around. In it was my father's anger. In it was... my life.

"Uh, thanks." I murmur, a little dazed from my epiphany.

Hop moves over to Major. He's silent for a minute, his expression unreadable. Major and I glance back and forth from each other to Hop.

Finally, Hop speaks. "Major, you, you're unbelievable! Your message here is crystal clear. This piece really speaks to me." With that, he pats Major on the back and walks away.

"So what's your masterpiece? Hop was obviously impressed." I roll my eyes.

"It's personal. Something that I would do anything for. And, not to mention, for my eyes only." Major says.

"Fine." I snap at him, and return to my piece. As I peer at him from the corner of my eye, I notice he has left his post to get more pastels. I can't help but look over to see what the big secret is. My heart sinks as soon as I lay my eyes on the beautiful canvas.

He's made a picture of me.