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.

We stood side by side facing the Qiblah and began prayer. When Zeinab and I were younger, we used to have races during Salah. We both knew now that that was wrong, but I found it funny whenever I remembered.

We were halfway through when footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, getting louder as they approached us. From the corner of my eye I made out an outline of a male figure, but I wasn't sure who it was until he spoke.

"Hey, what are you doing ins – oh, it's you two. I'm sorry, carry on." It was Mr Nesbitt, and he was always patrolling the halls, trying to find excuses to give people detentions for being inside during lunch break. At least Mr Nesbitt knew about our daily prayer sessions, but he always reacted as if we were committing a crime before remembering our reason for being inside.

Of course, we couldn't say anything as we were in prayer, but Zeinab coughed next to me as we went down to sujood. This was one of the reasons she never used to pray with me – she was afraid of getting caught.

"Everyone already knows you're a Muslim because of your hijab, Zeinab. If they see you praying, it's not going to ruin your reputation," I had said to her in the early days of persuasion. Let me tell you, I was an excellent persuader.

Zeinab had rolled her eyes, looking anxious. "But Mariam, I can just catch up on it at home. My friends will ditch me if I don't hang out with them every lunch time."

"Then they're not true friends if they ditch you over something as important to you as praying," I had responded with a shrug.

Zeinab had sighed in defeat. She knew I was right. "Okay, Mariam, In Sha Allah tomorrow I will start praying with you. But can we find a room that's covered on the outside? I don't want anyone seeing."

"Who cares if people see or not? They will only be fascinated, and it might even make them curious about Islam," I shrugged. "It's a win-win either way."

It was indeed a win-win, for we had completed our prayer, and now we had the rest of lunch time left. In the summer Zuhr was later, while in the cooler months it was usually during the noon hour.

Now we exited the classroom, which was kept unlocked just for us. I remember when I had first told the teachers about my obligation to pray. They had frowned a little, but eventually complied, knowing they couldn't argue with religion. Our school was a public school, so there was a mix of religions and cultures and nationalities. There were other Muslims girls, including some who wore hijab, but me and Zeinab were the only ones who prayed at lunch. It'd be nice if they joined us, but when Zeinab asked a couple of the girls they refused. I still hoped that one day they'd change their mind.

I bid Zeinab goodbye and approached the canteen, entering its aroma of fried rice. It seemed that was all it smelt like all the time. That, and bacterial spray when the cleaners came. I was a little surprised to see Aidan sitting at our table with Yaz, Denise and Theo, but I just slid into the spare seat casually, unravelling my sandwich wrapper.

"Oh, hi, Mariam," Aidan grinned at me. He had a bit of spinach on his tooth from his salad, and being the nice person I was, I pointed to my teeth, saying, "Uh, you got a little something..."

Aidan attempted to remove it, but to no avail. "Still there," I sighed.

"Let me get it for you. I know a trick," Yaz volunteered, getting out a napkin and dabbing water onto it. I watched in awe as she held Aidan's jaw with her left hand while expertly scraping the wet corner of the napkin on Aidan's tooth, thus removing the dreaded green bugger.

Aidan didn't seem the least bit fazed that Yaz had just cleaned his tooth with a napkin. He just shot her a smile and thanked her. Yaz shrugged.

"At my place we eat a lot of tabbouleh, and that stuff can get stuck in there for months," she told us, earning a booming laugh from Theo and a giggle from Denise.

"It sure does" I agreed. I loved tabbouleh to death. I could probably eat kilos of it at once, and never get sick of it. Once my mum made tabbouleh for our whole family when I was young, and before the guests arrived, I snuck into the kitchen and finished the whole bowl. My mum and aunts came into the kitchen to find a seven year old grinning sheepishly with green teeth. Since my aunts were over, Mum couldn't punish me properly until later. I sure did get a beating from her sandal.

"I love tabouli," Theo groaned. He was always declaring his love for food. He was Greek, so it was natural for him to always talk about food – especially his mama's cooking. I had once tasted his mama's souvlaki when he brought it to school. It wasn't halal, but it had been delicious. I still felt guilty about it to this day.

"I gotta taste some of this tabouli you speak of," Aidan said, grinning at Yaz. He was always grinning, it was kind of annoying. But Yaz soaked it all up like a sponge and grinned back. I wished I could take a photo of her at that moment – she looked like a lovesick puppy, it was making me sick.

"Maybe I'll bring some tomorrow," Yaz said flirtatiously. Only she could make a topic like tabbouleh sound flirtatious.

Aidan raised his eyebrows. "I was thinking we could go out somewhere, and eat it together."

I exchanged a look with Denise and Theo. Yep, I wasn't the only one who was losing my appetite.

"Shall we leave these two to their tabouli flirting?" Theo suggested, pointing his thumb to the door.

I nodded. "Let's go."

Yaz and Aidan didn't even notice Denise, Theo and I slip out into the sunshine, which was fine, because I had finished my sandwich (I was that hungry) and was brushing the crumbs off my hands, feeling full.

"Don't you just love this weather?" Denise was saying, squinting at me, her hair burning a fiery red in the sun.

Theo laughed. "Why would you say that to a girl who's wearing a cloth around her head, Denise?"

"Thank you, Theo, for understanding my pain," I said sarcastically.

Theo mopped his forehead with the back of his hand, glistening with perspiration. "I really hate the sun sometimes," he complained, holding out his arms for both of us to inspect. "Though check out my killer tan, ladies. Summer has been kind to me."

"Stop making me jealous, you know I'm basically a vampire. I can't even tan!" Denise whined. Denise was pale due to her Scottish roots, something she hated but was proud of at the same time.

"Except you don't sparkle in the sunlight," Theo teased.

"Now that'd be much better than getting a sunburn," Denise grumbled.

We were strolling around the quadrangle, and I could literally see heatwaves on the horizon. If I was a popsicle, I would've melted by now. Speaking of...

"Hey guys you want to get something cold?" I suggested. I checked my pocket, realizing I didn't have money. Damnit.

"Do you have money?" Denise asked, also checking her pocket. I didn't hear change, so I guessed she was poor too. As for Theo, he always had money, no matter what. We both turned to him. He was busy winking at Samantha to even notice us until I poked him.

"Ow! Why'd you – oh, no. I am not giving up my shiny 2015 $2 coin. No way," Theo backed away from us, holding up his hands. He looked genuinely scared, and I exchanged a look with Denise. We wanted icy poles, and we wanted it now. Theo was our only means to this heavenly treat, and in this scorching heat, we were in no way going to give up now.

"Come on, Theo, we know you want an icy pole," Denise pleaded. "I promise I'll pay you back."

"Yeah, we'll pay you back," I insisted, approaching him. If Theo kept walking backwards like that he was going to hit the –

"Oh, f***! Why didn't you tell me there was a f**king pole there?" Theo cursed as he rubbed the back of his head.

"You know what would take away your pain?" Denise said, touching his arm and batting her eyelashes.

"What?" Theo pouted, frowning.

"Icy poles!" Denise and I both screamed, earning a few looks from nearby year eights and nines. Yeah, we were year twelve, but that didn't mean we shouldn't be allowed to beg for icy poles. We weren't being childish, we were just being demanding.

Theo rolled his eyes, digging the pockets of his shorts and bringing out change. "Fine. Let's go get your icy poles, kiddies."

Five minutes later, I was tasting the frozen sweetness of a rainbow lifesaver. It sure lived up to its name, for it was saving my life right now. I thought I would've passed out from heatstroke if it weren't for Theo's generosity. Even if we did force him to buy it for us.

"We look like year sevens," Theo complained, biting a chunk of his green apple icy pole. Yeah, Theo was the type to bite his ice cream. He was a strange person, but we loved him for it.

"At least we look like cool year sevens," Denise said, shoving her raspberry icy pole way too far into her throat.

"Um, Denise? Don't eat it like that," I told her as nicely as possible.

Denise cocked her head at me. "Why not? I like tasting it all at once."

I jutted my chin towards the group of dirty minded year eight boys were laughing at her on the other side of the court. "Tell that to those boys over there."

Denise rolled her eyes. "You are so dirty-minded, Mariam."

"No I'm not, I'm just saying – you know what? Eat it how you want," I sighed, nibbling on the edge of my lifesaver. Unlike Theo, I didn't want to get a brain freeze.

"Ow, brain freeze!" Theo exclaimed in agony, clutching his head.

"You have to have a brain first to get a brain freeze," I teased, high-fiving Denise.

"Hey, that's mean," Theo stuck his tongue out, which was bright green. Denise's tongue was red, while mine was the rainbow.

"Is this the Miley Cyrus club?" Yaz asked, joining us on the steps of the portable classroom. I hadn't even notice her approach us. We were all busy comparing tongue colours. Aidan was nowhere to be seen, so I asked her, "Where's your crush?"

"Oi, I told you not to tease me about it!" Yaz slapped my arm, her cheeks reddening.

"I see him," Denise pointed shamelessly at the fence across from us, where all the popular kids hung out, Aidan being one of them. Yaz always crushed on one of those popular boys – they were her ultimate weakness.

"Hey, don't point," Yaz batted Denise's arm down. Denise had no problem openly staring at others or pointing at them – she was fearless like that. Me, I still had trouble maintaining eye contact with others who weren't my friends. It was too intense for me to handle.

"Yo, Damian!" Theo waved his icy pole proudly, as if to rub it in his face. Damian was there with the rest of the popular clique, leaning on the fence with his hands in his pockets and chatting with Samantha and Carrie. He nodded at Theo, because they used to be in the same soccer club as kids, and they had once been friends. His eyes briefly met with mine, before flitting away as he chuckled at something Samantha said. Samantha had her long blond hair tucked over one ear, and I swear the tips of her hair was in line with the end of her dress, which was ridiculously short. Seriously, what did guys find attractive about short dresses?

"Hey, why didn't you buy me one?" Yaz sulked. She hated being left out, especially when it came to icy poles.

"Sorry, you were too busy with Aidan," Theo teased.

Yaz smacked him on his upper arm. "Don't talk about him!"

"Why not?" Theo was confused.

Denise and I rolled our eyes. Theo was such a guy sometimes. "Because she likes him, and she feels embarrassed," I explained to him.

"What's there to be embarrassed about? You guys are going out anyway," Theo shrugged.

"Well, not yet, but he did invite me out to go eat tabouli," Yaz sighed wistfully, eyes shining with excitement.

"That's great! I so ship Yaidan," Denise said, looking just as excited for Yaz. Yaz had gone out with so many boys I had lost count. They usually didn't last longer than a month, so I wasn't really excited for her. But she could do what she wanted, I guess.

The bell trilled the end of lunch, which was sad, because it went by so quickly, and I hadn't even finished my lifesaver.

We walked up towards the building, my icy pole melting on my fingers and creating a sticky mess.

"Ugh, it's dripping all over my fingers!" I cried in frustration, licking up the mess but it just kept melting, and was soon dribbling into my sleeve. Theo laughed at me.

"That's what she said."

I thought Theo had spoken, but the voice was coming from my right. I turned, only to regret it. It was Demon – Damian.

"Seriously, that's so immature," I snapped, throwing my Popsicle stick into the nearest bin.

"You're the immature one for eating a lifesaver," Damian retaliated, his hands still in his pockets. How could he keep them in there when it was so hot? God protect me from hell if I couldn't even endure this heat.

"At least I'm not hot," I blurted before I could realize the consequences of my words. Did I forget who I was speaking to? Probably. This heat was getting to me.

"Are you saying I'm hot?" Damian smirked as we rounded the corner. A glance on my left told me that my friends had been swept up into the crowd so I was alone with jerk face. Great.

"No, I'm saying I'm cool," I corrected.

"So that makes me hot, then, right?" Damian confirmed, eyes sparkling with his ego.

"If you're hot, then go get a drink of water. You don't want to get dehydration," I retorted, feeling pretty proud of myself. No way was I letting this jerk think I thought he was "hot" in that sense. Even if he was a demon.

"Nice to know you care," Damian said sarcastically, heading towards the drink taps. Oh, so he was actually going to listen to my advice? Well, I hope he choked on the water, and it goes up his nose, and – astaghfirullah. I should really stop wishing others bad luck. In Islam, we didn't believe in karma, but we did believe in doing good to others and trusting that the Lord would punish whomever he wished, and whomever deserved it, whether it be in this life or the next. So for me to wish misfortune upon this boy who resembled a demon was wrong, no matter how annoying he was, or how much I wanted to strangle him.

Ya rab, please just let me get through this last period with no more conflicts. I've had enough to last me a year.

The only problem was, it was only the first day of school, meaning I still had a whole year left until graduation, a whole year of hard work, and a whole year of Damian.

Kill me now.

Oh, wait, don't do that yet. I still haven't gone to Hajj!

But after that, you may kill me.

Just kidding.