My Battle For Equality

Chapter 2

- This is a picture of Mohammed.

- Listen to 7 years rewrite cover by Leah Guest.

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"Are we there yet?" Asked Mohammed for the billionth time.

"We're there in a few more minutes." My mother finally said.

Dobbington was a small town with a lot of nature, parks, a mall and beautiful library. It is the kind of city where almost everyone knew each other.

"Are you nervous?" Ayoub asked us.

"No, I'm not. Look I know it is very scary going to a new city. But we will always have each others back, okay? So don't be nervous. If nobody likes us, we're going to sit together in the lunch breaks. But all of us know that's not going to happen. I mean look at me." Soufiane said with a smirk. He said the last part so it wouldn't sound so serious. But I know that he meant everything.

He is a very funny boy, who will be going to get a lot of attention of people. In our old school he was in the football team and very popular.

And this idiot spends more time to get ready than me. Looking in the mirror while flexing his muscles.

And don't get me started about his hair. This boy has so much hair products, while he his hair is just a few inches long.

Even if there was tsunami his hair couldn't move.

I'm not so social, I am so lucky that my mother became friends with the mother of Leila when they were pregnant.

I don't know why but people always like to insult me. About my hijab, my religion and origin.

You can know that I'm muslim by just looking at me.

With my brother it is different they don't know about it. He's not ashamed of it. But people would first get to know him and when they found out they already liked him so then it is not that big of a deal.

Plus, he is 6'1 ft tall, muscular and stronger than most of the guys of his age so they wouldn't dare to not accept him anyway.

With me they see the hijab first. But don't think I'm a girl who cries every day at school. I'm not judging the people who do but I'm not like that. I know school is very hard and people don't know acknowledge all the hard work we put into it.

You know when you have three brothers, you'll automatically have a tougher skin. (Or sisters, I know they can be mean too.)

Because most of the insult, I have already heard from my lovely brothers, except from the racist and the terrorist ones.

So when people try to bully me they get everything back. I have learned to treat people how they treat me. So when you punch me, I'll punch back. Unfortunately, it has happened a few times.

I don't know why but some people love taking my hijab off. Or grabbing my back-pack to see if I have a bomb with me.

I really don't understand why people care so much. I don't go to girls who wear very short shirts and tell them to go put some clothes on.

So why do they want to do that with me?

If Leila hadn't been there in the beginning I don't think I would've survived. We were in this together.

Now I'm alone.

I know there are more people who have to deal with this. My father's old boss treated his foreign workers like garbage. My mother cleans houses and they've asked her a few times if she has stolen from them.

My younger brother Ayoub is a nice guy. You know that one guy everyone just likes. That is my brother. He is tall with brown eyes and almost black hair. He plays basketball and is very fast.

He has had a lot of trouble with school. It was so bad my parents asked me to help him study. From the age of 9 years until he was 14. I helped him with every task and test. When we had to talk with the teacher I was the one talking not my parents. Some days we would have to learn until 9 pm.

When we started I was 10 years old. My parents couldn't afford a tutor.

It was a lot of responsibility to give to a 10 year old girl. When I'm looking back at it, I can't believe they did that. But I don't mind now, it was worth it. We worked for hours and hours every day. Some days I hadn't even had time to do my own homework, I had to plan everything.

It made me mature at a young age.

I never had problems with school. I was always one of the bests of the class. I'm not bragging, I work hard for it.

When I was little, I even helped a girl who came from Syria reading. When school would start we had our own little classroom and I would time every day how fast she could read. While the teacher was talking with the other children.

My youngest brother  Mohammed is the cutest little boy ever.

From the outside

From the inside he's the devil.

That little boy can act like no one else. He can literally cry when I snap my fingers.

My father stops driving.

We have arrived.

"This is our new home!" My mother said.

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Author's note

I noticed that it is quite addicting to write.

I started doing it because I have made Wattpad my addiction and have read a lot of stories in a short amount of time.

So why not make my own.

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