A Nerdy Muslim Girl's Youth

It's Only Seven-Thirty..

What in the name of hell just happened? 

"Nadirah, why are you back so early," my mom asks as I step inside my house taking off my jacket and throwing it on the couch. "Is everything okay?" 

"No, mama, please I'm not in the mood. I need to finish homework." 

"Well isn't that why you were in the library for?" 

"Yes, but it seems to be that none of the people I were with thought so too. I'm off to my room. Sorry Mama." 

She shook her head, and I can tell she didn't like my tone. But I didn't really care much anymore. I was pissed off. Pissed that I thought Majd was actually becoming something better. I knew being this angry wasn't good. I checked the time: it was six-thirty. Time for Asr prayer. 

After I prayed, I went in my room and decided to continue reading by book Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell.  It made me really want to read some fanfiction, so I maneuvered to my desk to open up my laptop when I heard a ding! coming from my phone. It was a text from Majd. 

"'I'm really sorry about today, please forgive. Don't you see how the tables have turned? Now I'm the one apologizing xD.'"

"'It's fine,'" I wrote. "'I just thought you were different.'" 

"'I can if you want me to be.'" 

"'My opinion doesn't matter. Not to you or anyone really.'"

"'I know a few guys who think otherwise.'"

I couldn't help but grin at that. I always knew that there were some guys who liked me. But none ever liked me for my looks, just my brains. I'm not saying it's horrible, but I would rather be liked for both. 

"'Well, don't change, it's just who you are. Goodnight Majd.'" 

"'You do know it's only seven-thirty right...'" 

I hit my forehead with my hand. 

 "'Right. God, I'm so stupid.'" 

"'You just totally admitted to lying just so you can not text me. Cool. I'll get over it.'" 

I laugh out loud, and I'm afraid of my mom entering and seeing me texting a boy. 

He writes again, before I do. "'Hey, can we still text? I really like talking to you.'" 

Should I, or should I not? 

"'Sure,'" I write with hesitation. "'I guess so. What do you want to talk about?'" 

"'Where are you from?'" 

I was Iraqi, and around here most people were Lebanese. I knew he was because he mentioned it maybe a million times before in class, like completely out of nowhere. We'd be talking about the biology of humans and he'd be like,"You guys know I'm Lebanese?" Iraqi's here were looked down upon as smelly, gossip-y, and way too religious people. My family was none of that. My parents were both the outcasts of their families who were the epitome of the stereotype, and raised us to be different. Anytime we tell people we were Iraqi, their mouth were left open gaping. So why shouldn't I tell him I was Iraqi? He definitely won't go and think I'm the stereotype from how much we know each other, so what was I afraid of? I was afraid of him knowing I was Iraqi, and then crossing me off his Possible-Wife list. I wasn't even on that list, so what the heck. 

"'I'm Iraqi. You're Lebanese right?'" I was nervous as to what he was going to say. 

"'Yeah, I am. And wow that's so cool that you're Iraqi. You're not like most Iraqi girls I know.'" 

I knew what he meant. The Iraqi girls at my school were complete whores (trust me, I don't like using that word). They all wore the hijab and didn't have any self-respect, so they just let guys treat them like trash. I hated seeing it happen right before my eyes. I just want to take those girls and shake them violently and ask,"WHY?" Why did they do all these things when they knew better? But I knew most did what they do because their parents normally don't care, and for most of them high school was their last time they had independence before getting an arranged marriage to a guy from Iraq miles away who didn't know how to speak English. 

I wrote back. "'Is that a compliment?'"

"Of course. You're ten times smarter than any of them are, and I mean you actually respect yourself. I don't think you've dated a guy...have you?'" 

"'No. No. NO.'" 

"'I was just wondering you silly!'" 

"'Haha, I know. So how many girls have you dated?'" I already knew the answer (it was twenty-four). 

"'Maybe ten.'" 

What. WHAT? What about Zainab, those twins you dated because you couldn't tell the difference? What about Lindsay, and Brittany? What about Fatima? I didn't write any of that because one: I don't want to seem like a stalker and two: yeah, pretty much don't want to seem like a stalker. 

"'Whoa, that's not a lot. Lol, not judging. Did you love them all?'" 

'"I never loved any of them.'" 

To this day, I still don't believe when Majd told me that. He had to have loved at least one or two of them. How did he not love them when I saw them holding hands, and heard he had kissed some of them? 

"'Majd, don't bullshit me. You had to have loved a few out of them. If you're trying to do the whole 'impress me' thing again, I'm not falling for it.'"

"'Nadirah, I'm not lying or doing the whole 'impress me' thing. I didn't love them. If I did, don't you think our relationship would've lasted longer than a month? I barely even liked them to begin with.'"

"'So explain to me why you would even date them?'"

"'You don't understand. If I didn't date the girls I did, I wouldn't be so popular. I would be a loner and hang out with the video game geeks.'"

"'And what's wrong with that?'" I got a bit offended. After all, I did sometimes go to their meetings to talk about the latest Mario game.

"'Nothing. Nothing. It's just stuff.'"

I didn't understand "stuff", and it sounded to me like he didn't want to talk about what "stuff"actually was. I glanced over at the clock, holy cow! It was nine o'clock. I had to get to bed soon, or else my mom would know something fishy was up. I didn't need her on my back. 

"'Really tired. Talk to you tomorrow? Goodnight.'"

"'Goodnight Nadirah. InshAllah you rest well. Your storming out today at the library must've sure 

tired you. :D'" 

I smiled, and my eyes were begging to be closed. But I couldn't help but think about how Majd has used the word "InshAllah". Was he turning for the better? And for real this time? 

I wanted him too. I don't know why I did. Maybe because I thought if he did, he would actually go for girls like me? Would I even date him if he'd ask? I think I wanted to. I liked him. He's the first guy that I've liked more than Harry Potter. And THAT was saying something. 

I slept on, but every few hours I would wake up, and the first person on my mind would be him. At four in the morning I got a text from him. 

"'Hey, for some really weird reason I woke up and thought of texting you for God knows why. I was wondering if you wanted to go to the library later on today. Not for the project, we have enough time. But for just hanging out purposes. Is it lame that I just said hang out at the library? Lol, who knows. Anyways, you probably won't see this until like ten in the morning, and you'll probably say no to going, but I was just curious to see. Good Morning!'" 

I wrote back even though I couldn't really see inches in front of me, but I was so happy I had too. 

"'Haha, I'm awake, no worries. And I would love to 'hang out' at the library today! Maybe I can show you a few books. :)'"

"'I'll be waiting for you.'"

Screw sleep. I needed to start getting ready.