Chapter 3

                                    

                                          
^^Scarlett Pomers as Denise
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It felt so refreshing to splash cold water onto my cheeks, which had been moist with a thin layer of sweat moments before. Yaz and Denise were at the mirror, fixing up their hair and pouting their lips as they did so, laughing when they realized they looked stupid.
"God, I look like a wreck," Denise huffed, brushing aside her bangs.
"No, I look like a wreck," Yaz moaned, smoothening her black hair on each side. "How is Aidan going to like me now?"
I rolled my eyes at their moaning. It was obvious they just wanted someone to tell them they were beautiful by degrading themselves. Even I did that sometimes, but of course my brother and sister just agreed with me, making me feel worse. 
"You both look great, OK?" I told them as I re-wrapped my hijab on my head. I had removed it in order to perform ablution for prayer. It was lunch time, meaning it was Zuhr, and I was not going to lose my five times a day streak I had upheld for the last two months.
"I love your hair, Mariam," Denise said, her eyes taking in my dark brown locks which were tied back into a bun. "It's so silky."
"Shame no one can see it," Yaz sighed. 
I smiled at them as I secured the pin, regarding myself in the mirror to make sure it was straight. "Hey, I'm just doing you girls a favour, okay?"
Denise laughed. "Oh, that's right. Because the boys would be all over you if you took it off."
"One less girl to compete with," Yaz added, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She loved to do that. She thought it made her look sexy. Unfortunately, I was on the receiving end of her flip, her hair grazing my face. 
"Watch it, Yaz, you're going to poke my eye out with all your hair," I joked.
Yaz shot me a sly look. "Maybe that's the plan."
We exited the bathroom, because we could only hold our breaths for a limited time, and I headed over to room 13 – my praying room.
"We'll meet you at the canteen," they called as I waved to them. I strode down the hall, passing a few year nine girls who had tightened their dresses around their waists so that it rose fifteen centimetres higher than their knee. I mentally tutted, astaghfirallah. I shouldn't judge others, no matter how wrong they were. And living in a country where showing skin was the norm didn't make it any easier for a covered up girl like me.
I entered room 13, which had only one measly fan that barely worked, meaning it was going to be a sweaty prayer session. I glanced at the clock – it was only one thirty, still four minutes until the adhaan. I was waiting for Zeinab, my little sister. We usually always prayed together at lunch time.
After three minutes of waiting in the circulating heat of the classroom, Zeinab finally decided to show herself, carrying our prayer mats.
"Sorry I'm late! I was busy eating lunch," she puffed, closing the door behind her.
I smiled. "It's okay. I just came." 
It was a white lie, because I didn't want my sister feeling bad for making me wait. I loved her, I really did – she was in year 10 this year, and she had only started praying with me last year at school. Zeinab had been too embarrassed to do it before that, but now she was confident with her faith, just like me. Our older brother Nasr never prayed at school when he went here – he was too busy playing soccer at lunch times to worry about missing Zuhr. Now he was in uni and he was probably busy chasing girls instead of chasing his Salah. Even though we could still pray Zuhr at home, I wanted to pray it right on time, and besides, what if something came up after school and I didn't have time to pray? I would feel guilty about it for the rest of my life.