New chapter! This is easier for me to upload because the chapters are prewritten and short.
"I'm attracted to God and religion because it's so beautiful. But I don't have faith that I'll appreciate that beauty for what it's worth. If I could ask God for just one thing right now, I would ask Him to make me a better person, because good people appreciate beauty the way it deserves to be appreciated." -- Ash
My cousin Sayeeda and I had made plans to meet up at Panera after school, to swap first day of school stories. Usually, this ended in us debating something like religion or social expectations on women or something equally awesome and nerdy (yup, no clothes or boys in the picture).
She lives thirty minutes away from me, but goes to a different high school. We could have gone to the same high school if she did IB but she decided not to. I wish she had; battling the imbecilic forces of Krish Mehta would have been a hell of a lot easier.
“Girl, you be lookin’ fly!” Sayeeda comments when we meet up with each other in Panera. I walk over to where she’s sitting at the front. We hug each other. There’s something about a hug that’s unexplainable. It’s like finding something you lost a long time ago; relief mixed with sweet relish. And I’m not much of a hugger either. But being hugged by a sister is something different.
“So, let’s order, and then get down to business.” She suggests. I nod and give my order to Tongue Piercing Girl over at the front counter (she’s been working here since forever).
Then, we make our way over to where Burt is, over at the counter where he’s making sandwiches. Ok, so his name isn’t really Burt. It’s Hayden, he’s eighteen, and a college freshman. But Sayeeda and I call him Burt secretly because of our tendency to assign random nicknames to attractive young males that we happen to come across. Hayden is Burt because one time Sayeeda commented by saying “I wouldn’t mind being his Ernie.” Thus, the birth of Burt. Don’t give me that look. I’m sure other girls do it to.
“Thank you, Hayden!” I saw as he hands me my tuna salad sandwiches.
“Have a good day, ladies.” He says, nodding. Sayeeda and I exchange that typical mashallah-this-muchacho-es-muy-guapo look and grab a small table in the back.
“That boy is worthy of so many mashallahs.” Sayeeda says, nodding towards Burt. Mashallah means praise be to God. It’s the phrase we use to describe all things awesome.
“Tell me about it.”
Sayeeda grins and fixes her headscarf. Everything about her style is bold yet beautiful. The rings, the brilliantly-colored earrings, the subtle outfits with their splash of fun color. This girl has some serious style going on. No wonder I always catch boys admiring her, even if she’s obvlious.
“So. You want to start?” I ask.
She makes a face. “I found out my Spanish teacher was a Marine for twenty years. She is one of the biggest pushovers I’ve ever meet. Ya Allah!” Oh God is right. Pushover teachers are the most tempting to take advantage of—the source of major moral conflicts.
“What else?”
“Some dude asked me if I had a bomb strapped underneath this.” She points to her headscarf.
I shake my head. “Was he joking?”
“No, he was dead serious.”
YOU ARE READING
Battered, With Love
Teen FictionThe story of two people with a love-hate relationship, brought together by a book.
