The Badboy, the Catfish & Me

Fifteen

At home later that day, my phone began to ring. I glanced up from my Spanish homework on the bed and lifted the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I leaned back into her pillows, focusing on the lavender-colored wall in front of me that was decorated with hand-painted flowers and clouds.

"Yo, I cannot believe she actually said that to you!" Salah's voice was as loud as if she were sitting in person with me.

I used my foot to close my Spanish textbook, and then, remembering my mama taught me not to do things with my feet like that, I rubbed the textbook as if saying sorry.

Salah had finally read the texts I'd sent to her on my way home.

"Neither can I!"

"Was anyone else there?"

"Besides Jamie, I don't think so. People did see me trip, though."

"If it were me, I would've told them Valentino already asked me to prom, and all three of them could cry me a river."

"Well, I didn't want to lie..."

"You know what this means, right?" Salah asked though she gave me no room to answer. "It means everyone thinks you two are a couple! Goodie-two-shoes Inaya and hot-as-hell Valentino! Dating!"

I felt my face rage with blush. But I couldn't deny the bubbly feeling in my stomach at Salah's words, even if they were haram words.

"It's not like that!" I forced myself to say. "We're just friends."

"Plenty of relationships start that way. And sooner or later, we're gonna hear da-dahnt-ta-da, da-dahnt-ta-da!"

In the background, I could hear other, squeakier voices of Salah's younger siblings echo her imitation of wedding bells.

"Salah!" I whisper-shouted. I ran a hand to untie my dark brown hair from its ponytail out of anxiousness. Even my ears were burning.

"Okay, maybe you're not going to be true to your dad's culture when you guys get married—"

"SALAH!"

She giggled. "Okay, all right, Ms. Serious. But it's something to think about. We're going to college soon. Adults. If Valentino likes you now, imagine how much he'll like mature, successful Inaya?"

"That sounds like crazy talk to me," I shot back. But Salah's words made me grip my phone in unusual excitement. "If Valentino liked me, he would've asked me to prom."

"Well, you announced so early that you weren't going, so why would he ask you now?"

I frowned. Salah had a point there.

"Oh, also...I need to tell you something," she said, her voice taking on a mysterious tone. "The morning after we voted for the prom theme, I realized that I had left my pencil case in the homeroom. So, I went back there, and guess who I bumped into on the way?"

"Uh..." I responded half-heartedly, having no idea where Salah was going with this.

"I bumped into Valentino, obviously! We had some small talk and all, and then...." She paused dramatically before continuing, "He asked me, 'Why can't Muslim girls go to prom?'"

I inhaled sharply. My mind came up with thousands of different scenarios of how this tidbit was significant to me. The morning after everyone voted prom theme was also the one and only morning that I was late for school.

However, all I managed to say was, "Okay...and then?"

"Then, I explained to him that modesty is considered a virtue in Islam and that we believe prom doesn't contribute to that virtue in any way. That's why most of us don't go."