"Big feet? What's that got to do with anything?"
"Guys with big feet are supposed to..." Laila put her hands on my shoulders. "Nevermind."
"Just be strong young buck." Laila encouraged, playfully swiping a fist at my chin. Young buck? Who even used that phrase anymore?
"A buck is a guy or like a boy deer or something." How did that apply to me right now?
"Who cares, Malika? All I know is KNUCK IF YOU BUCK BOY!" Laila began to sing and dance. Her fist pounded the air while her leg kicked back in the Blocboy JB shoot dance. She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes- a look so ridiculous that I couldn't help but to laugh at her antics and sing along. How she remembered all these old sayings and songs from our parents generation was beyond me. But she always knew exactly how to lighten the mood.
We danced around my room, kicking our legs and pumping our fists in the air together, dancing around each other until we were out of breath and fell in a laughing heap onto my bed. The dancing took my mind off of the impending meeting for just a moment. I couldn't dance my fears away or shake off this horrible feeling of impending doom.
I straightened my peach floor length pleated skirt and tucked my white blouse into the waistline, pulling the shirt back out just a little for effect. I loved this skirt. My mother took me shopping in the Somali Mall around the corner from the university and it was the last one they had in stock. My floral scarf and lace under piece perfectly accented the ultra feminine outfit. It made me feel pretty and perfectly complemented my chocolatey smooth skin. I expertly wrapped Laila's scarf and then my own. The smooth material draped softly around my neck and fell in a cascade in front of my right shoulder. Just one straight pin tucked into the side above my right ear would keep the silky material from sliding out of place.
"Ow!" I yelped, flinching. I never poked myself. Not hard enough to draw blood. But there it was, a single drop pooling on my thumb. Oh God! Was this a sign? Probably, but not a good one. Does this mean I'm going to end up ripped and torn and bloodied? I shuddered at the thought. I could just live with my parents forever and never get married. Why not?
I suck my thumb to stop the bleeding and notice Laila staring at my reflection in the mirror. She raised one eyebrow.
"See, I told you." Laila winked conspiratorially behind me. "There will be blood."
YOU ARE READING
Holding Hands
General FictionThere's no such thing as boyfriend/ girlfriend in Malika's Muslim community. So she just happens to be a super-virgin. She's quiet and reserved, never talked to a guy, kissed one, let alone even held hands. Sex is the scariest word she's ever heard...
