"So why do you wear that on your head?" Alison asked as she pointed to my hijab. "It's because of my religon," I replied. She held her books tightly close to her like she was afraid of what I might say next, but I didn't say anything more. She asked me a question and I answered.
After many tries I finally got my locker opened and started organizing my books and countless numbers of hijabs and shoes that I forgot about. "So..." She trailed off. "That's it."I finally jammed everything into my locker and shut it. Then I turned to face her confused, "What do you mean?"
"Well I thought you'd give me this long explaination, but instead you said that?" I leaned against my locker and thought about it for a second. "Wearing a hijab is not only to be modest, but mainly because Allah ordered us to," I began. "It hides our beauty that is only meant to be seen by our husbands."
"Isn't that too cruel though? I mean you should be given the freedom to choose if you want to wear it or not, don't you think?"
"There is no compulsion in this religion, my friend. We have the freedom to choose if we want to become Muslim or not and if we decide to, then there are certain things that we have to obey. You shouldn't come into this religion unless your'e willing follow the commands of Allah."
I can tell that she was urging for a comeback, but she held it in since the music began to play. That was how we knew that we had six minutes to get to class. I was glad that we did't keep talking about it because she always gets to emotional. It was like that with me and Allison; always questioning each others' beliefs...
I hurried to first period knowing that my short legs would ache severely because of the soccer match that my friends and I had yesterday at the Islamic Center. Every Thursday the Muslim girls in the community would gather up and hang out.
I got in class and noticed that again Mr. Fason changed our seating chart. Doesn't he know that changing our seats every two weeks isn't a good idea? I sighed and searched for my picture on the smartboard and wondered who would be the poor sucker that sits next to me.
I was so happy. For once I didn't have to sit next to anybody. I take back what I said. Changing seats every two weeks is a good, no great idea! I headed for my new desk. It was in the back row, next to the wall in the far corner. Can my luck get any better!?
I put my stuff down near my desk and took out my text book that Mr. Fason reminded us a thousand times not to forget to bring.
Todays agenda was written on the board: Three questions of the day,
Henry the eighth and notes from our textbooks. After reading the last part most of the students sighed for not remembering to bring their textbooks. That meant that they would have points docked and wouldn't be able to get the notes that they needed. Mr. Fason has always kept one spaire textbook in his classroom, but Klare always seems to forget hers at home. Right when she gets in the classroom she grabs the textbook and hauls it to her desk like she just caught some game.
Suddenly it hit me. What's taking Mr.Fason so long? The bell already rang like five minutes ago. I turn around to see Mr. Fason talking to a guy(perhaps a new student) that was the definition of beautiful. So while half of the class were in despair over their textbooks the other half were staring at him. Don't worry conscience I lowered my gaze as soon as I realized that this wasn't a dream. I know, I know. Even if he is the guy that was leterially plucked out from my dreams, I can't let it get to me.
I kept reading the same thing over and over again: Henry the eighth's wife could n't bear a boy...Henry the eighth's wife couldn't bear a boy. Then out of nowhere I hear something. Thump! I jerk my head and there he was sitting two feet away from me. I guess my luck has run out.
