Journal of a Teenage Muslim.

Chapter 2 : First Day Back.

The beautiful cover  is done by Cassidyx, thanks once again for it! <3

My dad drove up to the school entrance.

"Good luck," He smiled.

"I'll need it," I mumbled getting out of the car.

Walking into the grey school building after two months of vacation was the worst possible feeling. I picked up my schedule at the front desk and went to my locker.

"Oh, well look what the wind blew in," Haylie said in her screeching voice, ok, maybe I was exaggerating that bit, but she was evil! I closed my locker door and attempted to walk away from her but Alicia, another beautiful popular girl, stepped in front of me.

"Where are you running to? What's your name again? Tera the terrorist? Crem the criminal?" Alicia tantalized.

"It's Maydah," I said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah right," Haylie rolled her emerald green eyes and put her hand on her perfectly curved hips which were even more defined by the skinny red jeans she was wearing. She was wearing high heels which made a clicking noise when ever she walked.

"So what are you hiding in your girl turban?" Haylie taunted. her perfect blond her resting on her shoulders and her make up done with out a glitch.

"It's called a hijab," I said furiously.

"Yeah, so what's up there?" Alicia asked again. "Ain't got perfect hair to show off have you?"

I pushed my way past her and headed to class.

"Oh, right, just run," Haylie called after me.

I sat in the class playing with my pencil, not listening to what the teacher said, I already knew everything, I studied over the summer.

"Now who can tell me what the difference between an ion and and a normal atom is?" He asked.

"Ions are charged," I thought, but didn't answer, no way was I going to answer, it would just give the other kids another reason to make fun of me, I wasn't going to let that happen.

The lunch bell rang, every one filed out of the class happily. Usually people would be happy for lunch, but not me, I had no one to hang out with and as usual hung out in the library of computer lab where no one could come and tease me. I usually write at lunch time, I'm a writer, I write stories about other universes where magic exists and everything. My dad says I have a talent but I refer to it more as a curse, writing is lonely, you write about other people who have everything and here I am trying to make the most of what seems a broken life. I try to make things right but it feels like I'm loosing the fight. Things would have been different if my mom was around, I'm sure of it.

I remember the day she died like it just happened this morning. The police rang the doorbell late at night, they sat in the kitchen and in hushed voices explained everything.

"Thugs... Drunk....Gone...Very sorry.." That's as much as I could hear even though my ear was pressed tightly on the kitchen door.

"Thank you officer," Dad choked out guiding them to the door.

"You may not want to tell the kid, it could frighten her," The officer glanced at the six year old me.

Dad closed the door and we were alone in the house, he sat back at the kitchen table, trembling like I've never seen him before, his head in his hands.

"Dad?" I asked, scared naturally, as any six year old would be.

Dad wiped his tears with the back of his hand and picked me up making me sit on the table.

"Maydah," He said carefully, trying his best to be strong for me. "Mom is gone."

"Where?"

"To heaven."

"For how long?" I asked.

"For ever,"

"Can we visit?"

"No Maydah. She died."

Tears filled my huge eyes, mom was a person you can never get over, her smiled warmed my broken heart but there was nothing to fill the huge gaping hole that scarred my heart.

"Some people in this world are terrible people, and they- they.." Dad never finished the rest, that night he held me close to him as we fell asleep.

Years later, the question finally came to my head, how did mom die?

"She had to work late," My dad began softly, tears filled his eyes at her memory, "She was on her way home in the middle of the night, and some drunk thugs saw her, they threatened to beat her if she didn't take off her hijab, but she stayed strong and walked away, unfortunately they didn't leave it at that, when she walked away, they got angry and they, they killed her."

So there's my little secret. My mom died. When I was seven, my dad started telling me about hijab, he never once forced me, never once told me I have to wear it. We calmly discussed it and my dad would listen to what ever I had to say than explained me.

"Will I go to hell if I don't wear it?" I asked.

"Listen Maydah, I'm going to tell you something you must keep in mind for the rest of your life," My dad said suddenly very serious.

"What's that?"

"Whenever you do some thing, what ever it is, you should never, ever do it out of fear from hell, you should do it for the love of Allah (God)."

I kept that in mind till today. And I wore the hijab at the age of ten.

When my grandma, my mom's mom, saw me wearing it, she was horrified, she pulled my dad to the side.

"Jaidah (my mom) died because of her hijab, and now you're letting your daughter wear it?" She whispered frantically.

"The hijab didn't kill Jaidah, those thugs did. We can't let fear cloud our way of becoming religous, because if we do.. We might wake up in the flames of the ignorance that burns and we'll never be much more.."

My dad is my hero, he has wisdom that comes from absolutely no where, when ever he has a question he always finds the answer.

That's the end of my lunch. I'll write more later.

Ok, I'm back home now, my dad should be back in an hour. I'm in my room. My room is pretty much a room full of necessaties, I have a bed, a side table, a desk, a cupboard, a dressing table and a bean bag. the walls are painted sky blue, we had done that when my mom was still around, sky blue was her favourite color. After she died I made sure to protect her old photo albums with my life. Looking at her photos made me feel like she was still around, she was always smiling, even when I remember her, it's always with a smile, she was beautiful, from the outside and the inside. My dad says this world just couldn't appreciate her enough, that's why God took her back, back home.

A small smile breaks through when I see the picture I framed of us on my side table, mom and me at the park, we were laughing like crazy and my mom's slim hands around my waist, I did look alot like her.

Ok something else now, it hurts too much to think about her. My dad never even thought about getting married, he said it would hurt the both of us and besides, we can get on without a mother. Well we're trying.

The sky looks grey, I guess there's going to be a storm tonight, looks like I'm going to bunk in with my dad then, the thunder and lightning scares me.