A Nerdy Muslim Girl's Youth

Can we just finish?

I hadn't been up for long when I realized I had to go and see Majd today. I just want to finish that Godforsaken president project so I never have to talk to him again. He's so immature, and irresponsible, I think. Did I even like him anymore? 

I was so sick of this. Of me liking boys in my grade who I think are just secretly mature men, but turn out to be complete asses. That's the thing about hating boys, like I do. You hate them, but there is always this secret hope inside your head that tells you maybe there is someone who just pretends to be one on the outside, but isn't on the inside. Because on the inside, he has manners, and is kind. He can tell jokes without making fun of others. He reads books so he can obtain more knowledge. But, ha, those guys don't exist. Definitey not Muslim boys who only care about their Nike shoes and getting girls. 

"Mama, I'm off to walk to the library for a project with some friends," I was hesitant to tell her there would be guys there, so I didn't. Playing it safe by saying friends would be fine, right? "Amal will be there." Total lie. What am I doing? I shouldn't be lying to my mom. 

She sets down her cup of tea. "Oh! Tell her mom salaam for me. What time will you be home?" 

"Eight, when the library closes." 

"Okay, be careful. See you then Nadirah. Ba'Aslama." 

I smile. "Okay, see you later mama." 

I put my shoes and jacket on, and walk out my door. I tredge on towards the four blocks to my library. It's cold, and I'm not wearing gloves. The things I do for a good grade, honestly. 

I get to the library and walk to the kids section where Majd and I were two days before. I'm taken aback when I see him already there, because I came an hour early than what we said. 

He sees me much to my disliking. "Nadirah! Hey, I'm over here." 

I see that he has pictures of F.D.R sprawled out on the table, and he went to buy a poster board for the project. Oh no, I think, tell me he isn't trying to impress me again. I'm nowhere near to forgiving him. 

"Hi, so um, what's going on here," I ask while studying his face. His black hair looks like he has put his hand through it many times, and his brown eyes look like a raccoons with the bags underneath them. "You didn't finish it did you? Because I won't allow that." 

He looks sad that I didn't congratulate him for doing all this work, so I feel guilty and say, "But thank you, I was worrying I'd be the only one doing the work." 

"Why were you worried about that?" He looks down, probably remembering what happened. "About that -" 

"No, listen. I'm sorry, really I am. I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. I was out of line. Can you please forgive me?" 

He looks down and smiles. "I never was mad, but I can be," he looks to the side, "What you said was true, Nadirah. I'm a complete idiot, and I'm pathetic. I wish I could be like you and do what I want without caring. You have never cared when anyone has made fun of you for Harry Potter or whatever. But I can't."

"Why not? We're both people Majd. You act as though you'll die if you just show people you like to read or that you have a Tumblr." Crap, he doesn't know that I know about his Tumblr. 

His eyes are wide, and his mouth is gaping. "Wait, how do you know I have a Tumblr?" 

"I - um. Well. I found you on there." 

"You did? How?" He was pacing back and forth now. "Oh God, you didn't tell anybody did you?" 

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Of course not! I kind of kept it to myself. I won't say anything to anyone," I crept closer to him and touched his arm. "You don't have to worry about anyone but me knowing about this."

He steps closer. "Thank you Nadirah, you don't know what would happen if people would find out." 

"Yes, I do. That's why I never said a word. I'm telling you Majd, you don't have to worry." 

"Thank you Nadirah. So much," he smiles at me and my scarf feels like it's about to fall off. "So...did you like my Tumblr?"

I give out a little giggle. "Yes, very. You're actually very unique. You're not this stereotype you come off to be." 

He steps closer, and I hear someone gasp behind us. 

"What is this?" 

It's his girlfriend, Fatima. She must be here with her partner too. Crap crap crap. What are we doing? My hand is on his arm and he is only five inches from my face. This looks bad to an outsider. Especially his girlfriend. 

"Fatima..." he whispers, "you're here with your partner too aren't you?" 

"YES. What if I wasn't here? Would you still be here touching whatever-her-name-is?"

"We weren't doing anything bad," my voice even sounds like it's lying. 

"Oh shut up you. I thought you were too good of a Muslim to do something like this."

"Don't talk to her like that," he says. "She didn't do anything wrong. It was me, I - I'm the one that led it on." 

"And why is that," she asks with tears filling in her eyes. 

"Fatima, we weren't actually dating. I just dated you, because, well I don't know. I guess because all of my friends did, and it just seemed right to? Look, don't blame this on Nadirah. It's all my fault. I'm sorry Fatima." 

She didn't say anything. She just looked at both of us and went back to wherever she was. I felt sorry. Guilty. This was my fault, I just broke off his relationship, her relationship. 

"I should go," I say looking around frantically. 

"No, you really shouldn't. This isn't your problem. It's mine. She should've known this was going to happen, I do it with all of my girlfriends."

I was disgusted. "Why?" 

"None of them are special. Look, can we just finish this project?" 

I didn't want to have to do anything with him. "No, no we can't. I have to go." 

"Nadirah -" 

"Stop."

I left him there, and I didn't really care whether or not he was happy. I knew the answer to the question I kept asking. 

I didn't love him.