Holding Hands

Chapter 26

Samira's eyes went wide in disbelief. "What!?" She asked incredulously. Then, perhaps in an effort to lighten the mood, she shrugged her shoulders and added, "well you are wearing a skirt."

"This is a traditional baju melayu. It's not a skirt. My grandfather gave it to me before he died and it's an honor for me to wear it." Ibrahim spoke in a low, determined voice.

"I'm sorry." Samira apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you. I was just trying to lighten the mood and I didn't really know what to say, but that was not it. I shouldn't have said anything."

Ibrahim nodded his head in acceptance of Samira's apology. "I know," he said. "I'm not mad at you. I just don't understand why people think it's ok to be bullies. This isn't elementary school. This is college. Aren't we past that? By now, we should all have learned to be respectful of others even if we don't agree with them." Ibrahim looked around the table at each of us for confirmation.

"I was there." I decided to speak, but kept my eyes down, looking at the wooden grain lines in the table. "I wanted to say something to that guy so badly, but I didn't." I couldn't even look up. Why was I confessing to these people I just met? Something inside me just couldn't hold in this terrible secret. My inaction. The shame I felt for not speaking up.

"I'm glad you didn't, actually." Ibrahim stated with conviction. "You might've become his next target."

I dared a glance up at Ibrahim. His face was kind. "Besides," he sighed in relief, "I won't even be in that math class anymore, so that jerk can't bother me." He puffed out his chest in triumph, "I've been promoted."

Suddenly the adhan alarm on my phone began to sound, announcing the call to dhuhr, midday prayer. I let it play.

Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!

I repeated the words after the muezzin on my phone. "God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest."

We all looked at each other in silence. Who would take the lead?

Ash hadu anlaa ilaha il Allah! The melodious voice from my phone continued.

"There is no God but Allah," I whispered under my breath.

"Time for salat, huh?" Salim more so stated than asked. I nodded, ready to ditch them and find a place to pray on my own. I didn't know if there was a prayer hall on campus or if everyone even wanted to pray together. One of the luxuries of home school is a designated prayer area and the ability to drop everything when it was time to make salat. I'd never really had to deal with being in a place where everything wasn't scheduled around prayer. When it was time to pray, you just did it. No questions asked. The adhan would blare out from the living room speakers in our house and everyone would take a break from whatever we were doing to prepare for worship together.

"I don't know where they pray on campus." Ibrahim looked to the rest of us seated around the table for answers. That sounded almost like a cop out to me. I didn't care though. No matter what anyone else decided, my prayer was personal. No one else could stand in my place on the Day of Judgement and be like, "Yeah God, we told her it was fine if she didn't pray this one time." So, whether or not these new friends of mine were going to pray, I firmed up my intentions to not miss a single prayer. And to make all my prayers on time. Just like earlier in math class, this somehow felt like a test too. Was God revealing all of my strengths and weaknesses on my very first day of college?