Holding Hands

Chapter 25

"You're in my English 101 class with Professor Copeland, right?." I looked up to find a thin girl with bronzed skin and a short red skirt standing in front of me. She tossed her long, straight black hair over her shoulder. "Mind if I join you?" She asked, raising her eyebrows with her question.

"No. Please sit down." I gestured to the empty chairs. "I'm Malika Rasul." I stuck out my hand to the girl and she shook it.

"Samira Ali. Nice to meet you." I furrowed my eyebrows at the girl's Muslim name. I was a little shocked, but didn't comment. I definitely hadn't taken her for a Muslim. She read my mind.

"I'm Muslim too. As salamu alaikum." Samira greeted me in Arabic. "I just don't ... cover." Samira added after a few seconds, "obviously." She spoke with complete confidence.

"That's... uh." I tried hard to get my thoughts together. I mean, I  knew girls who were Muslim and didn't cover their hair. I also didn't really know how to take it. She obviously wasn't ashamed to be Muslim. Was it too hard to wear a hijab? Outdated? Or was it simply easier to blend in? If no one ever asked, would they know you were Muslim? Maybe it just wasn't that important to her. But even if I didn't wear a hijab, I'm still black and face everything that comes along with that. I can't take that off like she could take off her hijab. Ever. So, I chose to cover. Just like my mom. Just like my grandmother. I tried my best not to judge anyone's decision not to. That was between them and God. All of these thoughts sped through my brain as Samira eyed me expectantly.

"That's your choice." I finally said. I couldn't help the smile that followed as Samira sank into the chair next to mine. She smiled back widely, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth.

"I see you've already started the reading for the English assignment." Samira pointed at my open book on the table.

"Yeah, I want to try to stay ahead of everything." I confessed.

"Me too!" Samira smiled even wider, revealing deep dimples in both cheeks. "Want to be study buddies?"

"Yes." I nodded. "I'd like that."

Some plaid stripes caught my eye over Samira's shoulder. Ibrahim, from math class was headed in my direction along with another guy. They gave us the greetings and sat down. Ibrahim turned out to be from Malaysia and his friend Salim, from Pakistan.

"It's your red hijab." Samira said with certainty. "It's like a beacon, calling all the Muslims around here to this table. You're our very own Batman."

"I'm not Batman. I at least need a cave and a batmobile." I laughed, counting off with my fingers. "I own nothing and my mom drives me to school."

"Well, Batman or not, I certainly hope there's more than just four of us." Ibrahim declared. "Some of the other folks here can be pretty nasty." He caught my eye with a meaningful glance.

"No way," Samira began to disagree.

"Yeah, in my math class this morning." Ibrahim shook his head in frustration. "This guy called me a freak and a transvestite."