Breaking Point

6

Chapter 6

I never realised the difference a piece of cloth on your head could make. When Salma and I returned to school the following week, the entire school was buzzing with Salma's new look. Without the hijab, she was apparently an entirely different species of human being. Boys gawked at her, girls narrowed their eyes as she passed, and there were at least half a dozen rumors floating around that my sister had either left Islam or was going against our parents because my strict dad was now "out of the picture." People congratulated, scorned, criticised and complimented her decision. I couldn't tell how Salma felt about people's response, because she kept her feelings to herself.

The worst was yet to come, however.

So far, the most supportive was Nadia, who found herself cringing that Monday morning. Our new art assignment was to draw a portrait of our partner and by Allah's supreme mercy and blessing, I was paired up with the Indian beauty. Her mouth had dropped open at this announcement.

"I have to draw your face." She asked, horrified. I could tell she was being sarcastic however, because she was trying hard to fight a smile.

"Your welcome." I leaned back on my chair and dramatically flipped my hair.

Even though I pretended to be all confident about the assignment, I couldn't fathom how I'd be able to just sit there and draw Nadia, in all her beauty and grace. I doubted the most talented artist in the world could do justice to her full lips and high cheekbones and mesmerizing eyes. I felt like I'd swallowed a bucket of butterflies, just thinking about it. However, I was saved from puking up winged insects, when Nadia fixed me with a serious look.

"So, how is your mom taking Salma's...decision.." She asked.

It wasn't often she and I got serious because we were always joking and being playful, so I noticed that Nadia was alternating between glancing up at me and doodling nervously in her artbook. I blinked, surprised to see her so edgy, and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Not too bad." I responded, not entirely lying. My mom could have taken the news worse. "She's not stopping her, I mean. You know how moms can be about these things."

I almost bit my tongue at my last words, because I realised that perhaps Nadia didn't know. She didn't wear the hijab and as far as I knew, never had. Some Muslim families just did not observe the hijab and I should have thought out my words before I spoke them. I felt idiotic. Nadia, meanwhile, had stopped doodling, her pencil clenched between a firm grip.

"Well, I used to." She said, softly.

"Sorry?" I am so, so idiotic today, I realised, as I all but blurted out.

"Well, my mom died when I was 13." She explained, not meeting my eyes. "So I guess I used to know how moms can be about these things."

I could have punched myself in the face and it would have hurt less than hearing that. My eyes widened but Nadia stopped me before I could spill out what would surely have been a painfully, awkward apology.

"It's okay." She assured me. "You didn't know. I haven't even told Salma."

While I am still stinging with embarrassment and sympathy, I don't miss the fact that she revealed this information to me before she did to her best friend. Biting my lip to keep the bubble of happiness in my stomach from sprouting on my face, I lower my head.

"Still." I said. "Sorry for prying."

"It's okay..." Nadia nodded. "I don't mind telling you. You seem like you can keep a secret."

The rest of the art block is spent floating. I filed away the information of Nadia's mom and make a note to avoid similar topics in the future. Since we mostly just joke and fool around, I doubted it would come up again. Salma, who was working with her partner and seated across the room, occasionally looked up and caught my eyes a few times, eyebrows raised in question. We must have looked a sight, Nadia and I, without our usual goofy grins and laughter. I shrugged a shoulder at my sister and addressed the assignment.