The Badboy, the Catfish & Me

Thirty-Two

Monday morning was here. My final day as a student at Maxwell High School. I woke up for the predawn prayer, placing the rug to point eastward. When I had finished, I remained seated rather than get up and put everything away immediately.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of my breathing, using the creases of my fingers to count the times I said the phrase "Alhamdullilah" in my head. I asked God to forgive me for doing wrong by Valentino, Clara, my parents, and myself as a Muslim. I remained like this until the cream-colored, gauzy curtain that hung over the windows of my room began to glow with the touch of sunrise.

I stood and retrieved my Polaroid camera. I took my final senior year picture with a click toward the prayer rug and windows. I then peeled the rug off the floor, placed it and my prayer hijab on the back of the computer chair, and went to bed.

The graduation ceremony would start at four in the afternoon, so I had a few hours to sleep in.

Mama woke me up later, and we spent the rest of the morning ironing my cap and gown. The black color contrasted nicely with the red sash I'd been given to signify my summa cum laude honor, and I thought it would pair well with a red hijab. I put my hair up in a bun and retrieved a pair of black slacks with a matching blouse to wear underneath my graduation robe. Once done, I adjusted the look of my cap over my hijab. I smiled in the mirror and felt my mood go up considerably.

Mama and Baba were already waiting in the living room when I finally made my way out.

"Just look at you," Mama breathed, outstretching her arms to hug me. I could see that my mom's brown eyes were glistening.

"Don't start crying now, Mama. I haven't even gotten on stage yet!" I teased.

"Kiddo, remember what I said. Don't grow up too fast, okay?" Baba said as he fixed the graduation cap that was a little loopy on my head with one hand. In his other hand, he held a bouquet of fresh flowers.

"How could I drive you fishing if I don't grow up?" I replied, grinning at my dad.

Baba grinned back.

It was chaos when we pulled up into the stadium parking lot where the ceremony was being held. The graduating class was about two hundred, but that number tripled because everyone was allowed two guests. I could see crowds of people with balloons and flowers flooding the perimeter of the stadium. Biting my bottom lip, I quickly scanned the place to find my friends.

Baba noticed my creased brow and said, "Let me drop you guys near the entrance, and I'll rejoin you as soon as I get a place to park."

As soon as I got out of the car with my mom, I was grateful the school had thought to host the graduation later in the day when there were clouds overhead. The heat would've been unbearable otherwise.

"Inaya-a-a-a! Over here!"

Recognizing the voice to be Salah's, I grinned from ear to ear as I jogged over, whisking Mama by my hand to meet my friend.

"Mama, come! It's my friend Salah!"

Salah looked pretty with a multicolored hijab underneath her graduation cap, sparkling eyeshadow to match, and nude lipstick.

"Hey, Salah! Oh, assalamualaikum," I said politely as I gathered that Salah's parents were the two older people standing behind her.

Salah's father wore a professional-looking navy suit, and her mother wore a matching salwar kameez with a scarf around her head.

"Assalamualaikum," Salah greeted my mom with a smile.

"Waalaikum salaam," Mama smiled in return and then turned to speak to Salah's parents in Bengali. The three adults began a conversation, but we ignored them.