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

Lives Apart

Sometimes it's easy to think of the people in your life as a part of you. But with experience comes the knowledge that while they may be in one situation, you may be in a completely different one- you're lives apart.

In these times, you have to look out for yourself and determine what is best for you, which was exactly what my best friend is doing.

It's Sunday night and Tessa is practically freaking out over the last minute details of her "date".

"Is my hair okay?" she asks, frantically fluffing it.

"You look fine; just relax. Hamzah doesn't care about that stuff." I roll my eyes at her while she looks at me in the mirror.

"Are you sure?" she asks for the millionth time today.

The doorbell rings downstairs and I push her towards the steps. As we head downstairs from my room, Tessa straightens her blouse, adjusting her bra for a push-up effect.

I shake my head and laugh. Once we are all in the foyer, Abba opens the door. Standing outside are Hamzah, his father, and a little girl with big eyes and thick, black pigtails. She is the cutest thing I've ever seen.

We say our salaams and our parents hug and chat for a bit. I head over to the little girl.

"Hi, Sabi. I'm Yasmeen," I say, kneeling to her level.

"Hi!" she answers. She gives me a hug and holds my hand as we walk over to the dinner table.

At the table, I end up on one side in between Deena and Sabi. Tessa is across from me, between Hamzah and his father. Ummi and Abba are the long ends of the table, across from each other.

Over dinner, we make small talk. Everyone is obviously and impatiently looking forward to spending time with each other after the meal, so we eat a bit faster than usual.

Finally, we kids are sent to the basement while the adults move into the guest living room.

Deena and I cluster around Sabi, leaving Hamzah and Tessa standing together awkwardly. My back is facing them, but I am close enough to overhear everything they say to each other, which at the moment, is nothing. I almost don't believe this is the Tessa I've known practically my whole life. Shy? Tessa has always been extremely bold and incredibly blunt. Did Hamzah really affect her this deeply?

"Hey, Tessa." Hamzah says, seemingly unfazed by her presence.

"Hi." Tessa says, weakly. She glances at me as I look over my shoulder at her. I widen my eyes at her and jerk my head towards Hamzah. Tessa gets the message and takes a deep breath. This is her chance to find out how Hamzah feels about her.

"So, I need to know something," she declares, sounding very much like the Tessa I know and love.

"Yeah?" Hamzah questions.

"Do you like me?"

He's clearly unprepared for this question and hesitates before speaking. "Uh, of course I like you. We're friends, and-"

"Don't give me that. You know what I'm asking." Tessa interjects.

"You're so forward. That's exactly what I like about you. And here I thought I didn't stand a chance with you."

"What?" Tessa breathes warmly and I grin at Deena and Sabi, who have no idea what is going on.

"Tessa, you're amazing. You're real. You're honest, trustworthy, and I can talk to you. Plus, you're hot."

Tessa and I smile, remembering how Tessa said the same things about him. Suddenly, Tessa speaks. "I don't love you."

"Good. We're sixteen. What the hell is love, anyway?" Hamzah says. "That's not to say we won't find out later. But for now, I want you to be my girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Absolutely." They gaze into each other's eyes and seem perfectly happy.

"Wait," Tessa says, moving away from him a little. "What about Yaz? Do you like her?"

"Not in the way that I like you. Why would you ask that?"

"I just thought you did. I mean, you connect with her more, so-"

"Listen to me." Hamzah grabs her shoulders and pulls Tessa closer. "I like you. Not her. Yasmeen is a friend- a really good one. The first Muslim friend I've had."

"But I'm not Muslim." Tessa furrows her brows. The room is silent for a while except for Sabi's light chatter into Deena's ear. "I can't be your girlfriend." Tessa claims.

"What? Why not?"

"I really like you. But if Yasmeen couldn't date Major because he isn't Muslim, how can I date you? I mean, what will your father think?"

"I don't know." Hamzah replies quietly. "But I want to try this. Us."

"Me too, but-"

Hamzah tucks Tessa's hair behind her ear and runs a finger down her cheek, causing her voice to trail off. "I'm going to talk to my dad." Hamzah says firmly. Tessa nods in agreement and they hold hands.

With that, a romance begins in my very own basement. While I am elated for Tessa, all the sweet talk reminds me about how out of place my own life is at the moment.

I'd lost one of my best friends- Kennedy. Sure, he'd said some pretty disgusting things. But this is Kennedy we're talking about. He is the kindest person alive. Something had to be going on with him that day. It had to have been really serious.

All I need to do is reach out.