A Nerdy Muslim Girl's Youth

Your popular vs. Mine

I get home from the library and go to my room, shutting the door behind me. I'm not in the mood right now to think about the project we're going to fail, even though we still have two weeks to do it. How in the world will we get it finished if all we do is share secret laughs and stories? 

"Are you okay arnab?" My dad asks as he walks in and sits down next to me on my bed. I've told him a million times I have outgrown him calling me a rabbit. 

"Yes, I think so. Baba, how did you know you loved Mama?" 

He smiles, which he rarely does. "When I heard her laugh," he imitated it and even I had to laugh. "It was the greatest thing I had heard, and it still is. You know, you got your laugh from her. I think it runs in her family. You should see you Aunt Fayrouz's," he said as he put his hand over his throat and pretended to choke. "Why are you asking? Did some guy say something to you at school?" 

"No. It's just, well, I wish I was pretty." 

"You are arnab. Who said you were not?" 

"No one did, Baba, it's more I am saying I'm not. None of the guys like me at school. They like the girls who don't wear the Hijabs and who are willing to secretly date them behind their parents back. I wish I was pretty like all those girls. Is there something wrong with me?" 

"Yes," he says as he gives me a grin, "it's that you're not like any of those girls. You refuse to even go out with your brother and I because of how much you despise men. I think all those guys in your school know how much you hate boys in general, and you would never do anything with any of them. That's a good thing, Nadirah. You don't want to be a dits, or be easy to get. Trust me, when you're older, there will be tens of guys wanting you for how great you are." 

My lips were in a thin line. "I do not despise men. I depise boys. There is a difference." 

"Is that the only thing you got out from this?" My dad asks while laughing. 

"No..." and even I start to laugh. 

My dad leaves my room, leaving me back to just myself. I decide to take out my journal and write a little. Writing always calms me down, it'll make me forget about what happened just an hour ago with Majd. I start to write about what book I was currently reading, when I suddenly end up just writing about Majd and what did happen at the library. So smart of me, I know, I think to myself. 

I put my journal back on my shelf. I NEED to take my mind off of him. I grab my remote, which I haven't seen in three months since school has started, and turn on my Netflix. I start to watch some Doctor Who. David Tennant can surely take my mind off of him. Crap. I put on Season Two Episode Thirteen where Rose and him separate. Why do I do this to myself? 

"'Will I ever see you again'" 

"'I'm afraid not, Rose'" 

"NOOOOOOO," I wail as I clutch my pillow for the thousandth time this episode. He couldn't just leave her. He couldn't. Not with her over-protective mom and estranged father. Not with Mickey there. But he did, and I can barely even look at him any longer. I close my T.V, and rest my head on the wet pillow full of my tears. I start to cry, but everything starts to blur and I find myself slowly sleeping. 

 I wake up the next day, and get ready for school. I am nowhere near in the mood to learn about Exterior Angles in Geometry, but unfortunately I still have to go. The only classes I like are science, english, and history, and with my luck those are all three of my classes I have with Majd. Oh joy.

I get to school, and go to my locker to set some of my books down. I look over and see him with some girl at his locker. I know her, she's Arab. Her parents would kill her if they even saw her with a boy, let alone flirting with one as she is doing right now. I get my things, and my textbook falls on the floor. I reach to pick it up, but it seems Majd already has. I take my hand in my other. I hate it when boys think they have to do things such as pick up a textbook from the floor, or hold your books as you go to class. It annoys me. 

"Oh, um, thank you." 

"Yeah, no problem." He looks mildy dissappointed I didn't say anything more. "Study for the math test?" 

"What's the point? I'm going to fail it anyways."

"Not much of a math person I take it?" 

"Defintely not. Thinking about math makes my brain hurt," I look at him. "Why do you always talk so proper with me, but when you talk to others you talk horribly?" 

He looks at me as though I just told him something he didn't want to hear. He probably didn't, now that I look back on it. 

"I want to impress you." 

"Why would you want to impress me?" 

"I don't know. Maybe because I just want to live up to your standards," he looks at me straight in the eye now. This shouldn't be happening, where is Amal? "Just because I'm popular doesn't mean I can't be smart. I mean look at you. You're the class president and do two sports. You still remain smart. Why can't I?" 

"Majd, there is a difference between my kind of popular versus yours. The only reason I am is for those reasons, and for my smarts. The reason YOU are, is because of the amount of girls you've been with." 

Oh no, I was going on a tangent. Everything I hated about him was coming out, and it didn't look like it would stop soon. 

"Which you should know, isn't a good reason to be known for. I mean, c'mon, you think good girls will ever fall in love with you or ever want to be with you? You think a girl like me will ever want to be with you? You're out of your mind if you think that, Majd. And you're out of your mind if you think you can impress me just by using proper manner you should use with everyone." 

"But no, you will never get out of that. You're always going to think the way you do. Because guys like you never grow up. It's pathetic. Your mothers want you to become doctors or lawyers, but in the end you grow up to be gas station owners and real estate agents. God Majd, guys like you make me angry. I have so much hope for you all to finally grow up and mature, but no, none of you ever do. You're a lost cause." 

The sound for the first bell rings, and I walk away because I don't know what to do after what I just said. I leave him there, standing. Is he waiting for me to apologize? Do I really want to? I've waited forever to say those words to him, to show him how people in our grade really percieve him. But I shouldn't have done it like that, not when he told me he wanted to impress me, not when he said he loved my laugh. I turn around to see if he is still there, and he is, with a girl around his arm as he holds her books and walks her to class. 

Forget apologizing.