Hijabi Style: The Surprisingly Average Life Of A Teenage Muslim Girl

The L Bomb

Those three words. I'd played around before with the idea that the guy of my dreams would say them to me, but never thought about how I'd react. And in this case, it sure isn't as dreamy as I imagined. I am pissed.

How dare Major tell me he loved me? I had asked for an explanation, not another lie! And even if it was true, it didn't clear anything up. If anything, it did the complete opposite.

"You don't get to say that to me!" I exclaim, incredibly perplexed.

Frankly, I'm becoming afraid and scared of the way he's making me feel. I'm angry in my mind, but my heart pangs for those words. So I choose to pull away, choosing my head over my heart.

I jump to my feet and create some distance between us. Major looks... afraid? Vulnerable, even?

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I wanted an explanation! That isn't one! Why are you trying to freak me out so much?"

"No! That isn't what I want to do!" He reaches for me, as I step away. This was getting too heavy, way too fast. Even more so, considering all the lies.

"I want you to explain why you lied. Now." I demand.

"Okay. I owe you that much. Will you sit with me?" he asks, and I shake my head no. "Alright, then." He sighs and sits.

"Go ahead."

"When we were kids in grade school, I never really noticed girls. Never wanted to play with them at recess or even sit with them in class. But when middle school came, I started to notice. And I noticed you because you were different."

"And?" I urge.

"Other girls were obsessed with their looks and makeup, and you still climbed trees and ate burgers at lunch instead of salads. And I thought that was beautiful. But I didn't know how to act on my feelings so I held back, and kept them to myself."

"Okay..."

"The summer before high school, I went to a military boot camp, like my dad wanted. I hated it. I wasn't interested in the army. And all I thought about was seeing you at the end of it, so I kept going. But when school started, that was the year you started wearing your, uh-"

"My hijab." I reply, running my hand down a tail end of the soft scarf.

"Yeah."

"So you didn't want to be associated with me, right? Especially after 9/11. It's actually best you didn't. I went through hell for a long time after." I fiercely hold back my tears, and bite down on each word.

"No! I didn't care what people thought. It's just, my father forbid me from "pursuing" you, in his words."

"You told your father about me?"

"Sort of. I was talking with my mother, and he overheard. When I said you were a Muslim and wore hijab, he wasn't having it. He cares a lot about what people think."

I sit down next to him again.

"I hated not being able to talk to you, and only seeing you in the halls with Tessa and Kennedy. I had a few classes with them but I'd always avoided meeting you through them."

"Oh." I breathe. I can't believe what I'm hearing. My heart beats faster.

"This year, when I found out we had art together, I thought I could finally have a chance. I didn't want to freak you out because we'd never spoken. So I pretended I didn't know you. But when you got hurt, I was worried. I didn't want to pretend that I didn't know who you are." he finishes.

"I'm so sorry, Major. I'm so sorry. I never gave you a chance to explain. I guess I have a really short temper."

"Eh, don't worry. It's one of your quirks." he smiles.

I think a moment. "But how did you know where I live?"

"I asked Tessa."

I feel so embarrassed. I'd judged him so unfairly, when none of it was intentional or malicious. Me and my hot head.

We are quiet for a while before Major speaks up. "I meant what I said. I do love you. I knew I did when my dad told me not to go after you. All I felt was that you were mine and I wanted to protect you. And now that you know, I finally can."

What I say next puts an intense lull on the conversation.

"But Major, I don't love you."