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

Infidelity

Life is tough. Everyone goes through one thing or another. The important part is that you have someone you can talk to about it- someone who can help you. You're never really alone.

When I woke up this morning, it occurred to me that Kennedy was probably going through something, and that he needed me. I decided that I wouldn't need an excuse letter today; I am going to home room. It's time to smooth things over with Kennedy.

Ummi drops me off at school an hour earlier than usual and I head straight to the lockers, in search of Ken. I know he is at school already because he has track practice pretty early on Mondays.

I find him standing by our lockers, his back facing me. I contemplate turning back but I quickly decide against it. Kennedy suddenly swivels and sees me. He starts to turn and walk away before I stop him. "C'mon Ken." I say loudly.

He heaves a heavy sigh and walks towards me. Once we are a comfortable distance apart, we stand there awkwardly, feeling sorry, but too prideful to apologize. Ken looks up at me and his gaze lingers for a moment.

"Oh my God," he starts in a weary voice. "I can't believe I ever said those things to you. You're the best thing to happen to me."

"No, I'm sorry! I knew you were just trying to help. I shouldn't have kept pushing you."

"Yaz, what I said was out of line. And it was the biggest lie I've ever told."

I nod and ask what I've been wondering since Ken's fight. "Were you jealous?" I question in a meek voice.

"What?" he responds in a confused voice. My nerves are settled, grateful for his reaction. "I wasn't jealous. I just have a lot going on."

"Well... do you want to talk about it?"

"It depends. Am I forgiven? I'm incredibly sorry. I didn't mean any of those things."

"I forgive you. Tell me already!"

"Can we go somewhere first? A little more private, maybe?"

We settle for a nearby vacant classroom. We sit, and I patiently wait for Ken to speak.

"I'm not Christian." he blurts, and glances at me as if awaiting a reaction.

"Okay? Is that bad?" I ask, confused.

"It is bad. Incredibly bad."

"Why? You can tell me, Ken."

"So. My father is a pastor at our church. And I am supposed to follow in his footsteps. But I can't! I'm not Christian!"

"Did something happen? This seems really sudden."

"I've always felt out of place at church. It's like my dad thought of me as his trophy kid, and he put too much pressure on me to be perfect. I used to think that he was the problem, you know?"

I nod and urge him to continue.

"But it isn't him. I just don't believe in Christianity. I realized it the day before my fight. I was giving my first sermon and everything I was saying didn't resonate with me. I felt like such a hypocrite."

I want to comfort him, but I don't know what I should say. I simply take his hand and offer my ear as he goes on.

"So afterwards, I told my Dad I wasn't cut out for the church life. He basically blew up and said I had to do what was expected of me. And then I said I didn't believe in what was expected of me. He called me an infidel, no better than the devil himself." Kennedy hangs his head, pained and weary. "I really wish I believed in it, for his sake. I hate to do this to him."

"Oh, Ken, I'm so sorry. Things will get better when Allah wills it. He knows what is best."

"That's the thing. I want to learn more about Islam. You seem so at peace with it, like you're one with it."

"Well, Islam is more a way of life than a religion. It's all based on faith and trust."

"I need that kind of stability. Will you tell me more?"

"Of course. But what's going to happen with you and your father? I'm worried."

"I don't know. I've been staying at school late and running on the track for the past few days. I wait until after Dad goes to bed and then I sneak back into our house. Somehow he found out what I was doing and he's made up his mind about what's going to happen from here on out."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants me out of his house. For good."