That weekend, Laila and I talked all night. She came to my house to sleepover. Mostly we laughed about Hakeem's sense of style and his tragic poem. Of course, I would never admit to Laila that I thought the poem was actually kind of beautiful. I was not a girl who was won over by a few words scribbled on paper. Hakeem was a bit quirky, but he was also very respectful and his parents seemed to think the world of him. He was the perfect candidate for something else I had in mind.
Over a big bowl of popcorn and Netflix, we formulated a plan.
"HOLDING HANDS." Laila had written in all caps across the top of the page.
"You've never actually talked to a boy before." she reminded me. "So, you're really trying to go to third base."
"What's third base?" Didn't that have something to do with touching boobs? Totally out of the question!
She tapped the top of the page with the pen, where she'd written "Holding Hands" in bold letters. "It's physical contact in the form of palms kissing instead of lips. We don't want to relive your first kissing debacle." Laila teased.
I rolled my eyes. Jamal from first grade hardly counted as a kiss. I didn't know what he was doing and bit his lip.
"There certainly was blood." I laughed at the ancient memory.
"Yes, there was." Laila giggled. "You were in school for all of two minutes before you started kissing boys and your parents had to pull you out for fornication."
"Fornication?! Really?! What is wrong with you?! You have serious problems!" I threw a fist of popcorn at her head.
Laila, batted it away easily and held up her hands at my protest. "I'm just saying. That's why your parents thought homeschool might be a better fit for your fast self." Laila raised her eyebrows up and down and made kissing faces.
"Whatever!" I shoved my best friend's shoulder playfully. "First of all, that is not why my mom started homeschooling us. She just knew she could do a better job. In public school, they're still teaching kids that Thanksgiving is all about working together with Native Americans and the first colonizers, I mean pilgrims." I definitely put sarcasm on the word 'pilgrim'.
I remembered learning about the real history of the holiday having to do with the massacre of Native Americans and the pilgrims celebrating the slaughter by giving thanks with a huge feast. Umi took us to the Trail of Tears on a school trip. We met a few Native Americans and got to listen to the elders speak. History was definitely written from the perspective of the victors.
"That's true." Laila agreed.
"See. That's why we're homeschooled." I said triumphantly, making my point.
"No." Laila shook her head with a sympathetic look on her face. "You sad, sad girl. It was definitely the tongue kissing."
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...
