On My Way

Stuck with the S's

~Aminah Razzaq~

I can feel my face and my ears burning under my scarf as my eyes concentrate on my desk, thinking about what I have just said. Why did I say that? How could I have been so stupid? And I said that to Stephen! Of all people, Stephen! he probably thinks I'm an idiot now. Well, not like he didn't think that before. The short yet fresh memory plays in my mind repeatedly, taking note of every action. 

"Hey Aminah, Congratulations on getting 3rd in District History Fair," he says, while stretching back in his seat, which is obviously too small for this 6 feet gorrila. Well, a good looking gorrila as a matter of fact. One with dirty blonde hair, and and obvious abs. For a moment my face is still, voices talking in my head. Why would he care? He gets first every year anyways. And besides, it's not that much of an accomplishment when only 1st and 2nd go to state.  How does he even know? Well, he's Stephen, he knows everything. Hello, he said something... reply!!!

 " Uhh... ok," is my response and after that I swiftly turn around, regretting everything. He congratulated me, and I didn't even say thank you!

 And of all people, to Stephen!

Get a grip, Aminah, I say to myself. You are making a big deal out of nothing. Who freaking cares what he thinks? He is one person out of millions. I doubt he will determine if you get into UChicago or not. 

But secretly, I know I care. 

*** 

Later, the bell finally rings dismissing me from 3rd period, and I make my way to my next class, which Stephen is not in (thankfully). I swiftly walk down the flight of stairs, and go to my desk, the last one in the very corner, my backpack landing with a plop! 

"Hey Aminah," says Ravi, doing this finger snapping thing. "Hii," I respond with no emotion. My head was on my desk, my sulken face and the i-dont-really-care mood  apparent as I  grudgingly take my notebook our to copy down the bellwork. "What are you doing?" Oh, Ravi. It is obviously so clear what I am doing. He does this every single day, just to pester me, and on top of that, I have all my classes with him. I look at him giving him a What does it look like I'm doin? face, and then he laughs. I give him a I'm not in the mood glare, and he shuts up. 

While he goes around pestering others, I think about him. Boys can be so immature, yet so intelligent at the same time. There he was with his striped shirt and square-framed glasses, hardly more than 5 feet and already in high school.  Secretly, I have a suspicion that he swore on Star Wars to complete his ultimate mission, which was bothering the hell out of me. So far, he was succeeding. I remember those things people used to say in middle school, those rumors about us going out, but everyone knew that was joke. We were always just friends, and always will be. Besides, how can a barely over- 5 feet boy be paired with a tall girl like me? I'm not even allowed to date anyways. The bell rings, swinging me back into focus. Until...

"Hey, can I borrow a pencil? and some paper?" says Siddharth, which is absolutely no surprise. At this point, this is a routine. He stands in front of me waiting like a dog, except this dog is wearing a plaid button down shirt, and his Abercrombie jeans sagging slightly, not too much, just to the point where it's cute. While, I reach into my pencil pouch I can't help but wonder why he always asks me of all people in the class? Because I'm a studious, hard-working girl? That must be it, I assure myself. "Thanks, " he says, with that cool, calm, badass voice of his. As he reaches, I smell his faint cologne, almost gone, but still there. 

We don't talk much anymore, but we used to, and I think the reason why we don't anymore is because of what happened before. Sometimes he tries to talk, but I push him away, afraid for that same mistake to start all over again. Ir egert middle school sometimes. And he knows I'm Muslim, that I'm not supposed to talk to guys excessively, or become very close with them. But he doesn't think it's a mistake. 

He thinks it's love. 

***

I head on our to lunch, on "The Hill", as we like to call it. My best friend, Paulina, is there, and I greet her with a gagging face. She returns by sticking her toungue out with disgust. "So, what's up?" I say.

"I need to tell you someth-"

"Aren't you hot? it's like 80 bajillion degrees! Take your cardigan off!" yells Emily. She's not exactly a best friend, but we're still pretty close. I laugh, "I'm not that hot. And I can't take it off remember?" Her mind seems  to be processing what I just said, her face showing she is slightly ashamed. "Ohh, yeah... So, I have a question. Why do you cover so much, but others like Sarah and her mom don't?" Sarah is another Muslim at my school. I know some Muslims would be stumped at this question, an in fact, I used to be asking this too. But it's important to know why you're doing something if you're doing it. "It's more of a personal preference. It just depends how strong one's iman, or faith is, and what they belive is right. Different people will act differenly according to their morals and beliefs. Of course, this never defines if one preson is more religious than the other. In the end, it's God who will decide." She nods in understanding. "Okay, I think I get it." Someone calls her name, so she skips away, her blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders with each step. 

Paulina and I were alone now. After I bit into my halal chicken nugget, I asked, "So what was it you wanted to tell me?"  "Okay, so you know Parth right? The senior?" "No, duh! Everyone does! He's the total flirt and acts black when he's Indian. It's hillarious. Don't you dance with him in Salsa club or something?" "Shh! Not so loud!" she says. "Yes, he's my dance partner. And you know, we always mess with each other, and he always jokes around with me. Everyone says that it always looks like we're flirting but I'm not even trying to!" She's down to a whisper now. I smile and say giddliy, "Well, i guess Parth knows a pretty face when he sees one!" She gives me a death glare. "Okay. Okay. So... do you like him?"  "No!" she answers almost too quicky. I start laughing, and she tries to look like she's mad at me, but then she starts laughing too. Alhamdulillah, I'm glad to have a friend like her.

 ***

As I walk back to class, I remember that in World History we are going to vote for the attorneys for our class today. Our class is having a mock trial type thing, and i've heard it's pretty intense. The nominations were yesterday, the completely expected people of course; Siddharth, Stephen, Julia, Shane, Daniel, Emerson, Laura, and a bit surprisingly, Prem. There were supposed to be 3 on each side, so two had to go. 

"Okay class settle down. Get your butt in a chair, and I'm serious!" yelled Ms. Wilkinson. In reality, she was very free-flowing. "Daniel, pass out the ballots. You all have three minutes to choose your six." We all flip over the ballots simataneously, and I read the names. There were all the names from before, except one more.

Aminah Razzaq.

I look at Ms. Wilkinson smiling back at me. I vote for my 6, which does not include me. I'm not adequate enough for this, I can barely speak in class! I can't do something like this!

After what finally seems like forever, at the end of class she makes an announcement. "Ehn, ehm. This years attorneys for the trial are..." She adds the dramatic pause, that makes me even more anxious. Not me. Not me. Not me. 

"Stephen Anderson, Aminah Razzaq, Siddharth Reddy, Julia Obeke, Shane Duncan, and  Prem Patel. I read those in order of who got the most votes, if you were wondering."

Wow. I don't know what I'm more surprised at me being an attorney, or me being 2nd in number of votes! I was so close to Stephen! And I beat Siddharth!!! So people actually like me.... I can here my girl friends cheering for me with their high-pitched voices. Wow, people like me... I just can't get over it.

 Before we left the class, Ms. Wilkinson gave the attorneys a sheet of paper with our partners. "Good Luck," she whispered, as she gave the paper to me. I carefully turned over the slip of paper, praying to Allah that I have good partners. I turn the paper over. 

Siddharth Reddy

Stephen Anderson

Ya Allah,  what did I do to deserve this?!