"Mariam, wake up," I could hear a familiar voice whisper softly, but I was still encompassed by the blanket of sleep, and I intended to stay that way, until the owner of the voice began shaking me.

"Mariam, we slept in, so get up."

Now that got me up. I rose from the pillow, ram-rod straight, and turned to my right. Yaz was peering at me with heavy-lidded eyes, her hair hanging around her face like a curtain. I glanced at the radio clock, feeling my stomach drop.

"It's 9am?" I whisper-shrieked.

Yaz nodded, rubbing her eyes. "I have to go," she mumbled.

I sighed. If my parents found out I had snuck out last night I would never hear the end of it. Yaz being here would only make things worse. The house was silent, but I knew it wouldn't be long before my parents woke up, along with Nasr and Zeinab.

"You should at least clean yourself up a bit," I suggested, hopping out of bed. I scratched my hair, which had tumbled out of its sloppy bun I had twisted it in last night, and grabbed my clothes – leggings, t-shirt and a hoodie, the usual Sunday-at-home attire – dressing up while Yaz lay on the bed lazily.

"Yaz, don't you dare fall asleep again," I warned after getting dressed. I poked Yaz's side, but she had already returned to dreamland. Funny since she was the one who woke me up.

"I ain't taking none of this lazy business." So I plucked out a feather that had been poking me all night on my pillow and began to tickle her nose, causing her to twitch. With a sneeze, she woke up, blinking at me in confusion.

"What was that?"

I held up the feather with a mischievous grin. "Your worst enemy," I replied, stroking the feather against her cheek. Yaz flinched away, leaping out of bed in the process.

"Okay, okay, I'm up, just keep that thing away from me. You know I hate getting tickled, especially with a feather," Yaz said, holding up her hands and backing away.

I tossed the feather aside, chuckling. "Well, at least it woke you up. You are so lazy, Yaz."

"Well, it's a Sunday, can you blame me?" Yaz stretched her arms over her head, yawning. "Can I stay here for a bit? I don't want to go home just yet."

"Why?" I asked.

Yaz bit her lip. "I had a dream."

My mouth gaped in mock shock. "No way, me too!"

Yaz rolled her eyes, smiling a little at my antics. "I think my dream meant something, you know, like a spiritual revelation?"

I blinked at my friend in disbelief. "Did you just use two big words in one sentence?"

Yaz sat back on the edge of the bed where I was, grabbing my pillow and throwing it at me. "Hey!"

"Don't tease me, I'm being serious here," Yaz really did look serious, so I hugged the pillow she threw at me and listened to her dream.

"This dream was different to my other dreams. I feel like it was a message, and I think I should listen to it," Yaz took a deep breath before continuing. "I saw myself in a mirror, and I was wearing a hijab, with a long dress down to my ankles."

"What colour was the dress?" I asked, just to test her.

"It doesn't matter what colour the dress was!" Yaz snapped exasperatingly.

"Whoa, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" I shifted away from her as if she were an alien. "The Yasmine El-Howly I know would never say that."

"Just listen to the rest of my dream, and then you can judge for yourself," Yaz ordered, so I did. "In the dream, I turned around from the mirror, and I saw people from school laughing at me. I wondered why, until I remembered my hijab. I was about to take it off in the dream, but I couldn't feel it on me. Instead I just felt skin, and I looked down, and I was naked."

"Is this another one of your naked in public dreams?" I sighed. Yaz was always having these, I sometimes had them too. They were horrifying, especially for someone like me who has been wearing hijab for six years now. It was my worst nightmare, to be exposed.

"No, this is more than that," Yaz replied with urgency. Her dark eyes were gleaming with something, I couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but she looked eager to tell me this dream. "You see, I was naked, but then you came to me and handed me my clothes. But you said I had to choose between staying naked for the rest of the day in front of everyone, or covering up and wearing hijab for the rest of my life. And do you know what I chose?"

"Hm, let me guess, the naked option?" I joked.

Yaz shook her head. "No, I chose the second option, and when I wore the hijab, everyone stopped laughing. I felt a sense of peace and pride in myself, and it felt so good to wear that long dress because it was so cool and silky against my skin, and I felt so relaxed..."

I pondered over this for a second. I was usually good at determining the meaning of dreams, alhamdulillah, so this dream wasn't hard to understand. "Yaz, would you like my opinion?" I always asked this before I gave my interpretations, even if I knew the answer.

Yaz nodded. "Yes, please."

Thought so. "What happened to you last night made you feel vulnerable, didn't it?"

"More than just vulnerable - I felt weak," Yaz admitted. "I know you warned me many times not to get too involved with boys, but I really liked Aidan, and I didn't think he would..."

"It's okay, I thought he was good too, but was he drunk?"

"He did have a couple drinks..." Yaz recalled. "But what's this got to do with the dream?"

I smiled. "It has everything to do with the dream, Yaz. You said you had a spiritual revelation? This is it; Aidan was the breaking point," I told her. I could see in her eyes she was finally understanding, so I continued. "I think you finally realized that modesty is the best policy, according to your dream. This whole time you were drifting away from your faith, and you were wearing clothes that were, well, revealing. I mean, just look at your dress, Yaz, it's very short." I gestured to the black and silver strapless dress she wore, accentuating her curves and showing a bit of cleavage.

Yaz glanced down at it in shame. "I know. I thought if I dressed like this Aidan would like me," she muttered.

"Maybe he liked you a bit too much, if he, you know..."

Yaz looked up at me, and I realized then how tired she looked with her eyeliner smudged around her eyes, creating the panda effect. We had been so tired last night, I didn't even think to clean her up. "Mariam, don't go blaming me for what happened. I wore this dress to look good, so don't say that it's the reason he came onto me. Even though it's sorta true..." Yaz bit her lip sheepishly, realizing my point.

"I'm not going to blame you, Yaz, but I'm not going to say you were completely innocent here. In the dream, you said people were laughing at you when you were supposedly naked. How did you feel?" I felt like a therapist at the moment.

"I felt so embarrassed, like I had lost everything, and I couldn't get it back. Everything was there for them to see, and all I wanted to do was disappear," Yaz described.

I nodded, taking this in. All I needed was a clipboard, an office and a long couch, and I would be as good as a therapist. Maybe that should be my future job? Wait, I needed to focus. Friend in need here.

"What you lost was probably your sense of religion," I explained to her. "When you wear short clothes and go about flirting with boys and going to parties, you are committing big sins there, and I know you know that, and I've kept a blind eye all this time, hoping you'd change, but –"

"That's the thing, Mims, I want to change!" Yaz interrupted me, her voice a little raised, so I silenced her with a finger. I could hear a tap running and footsteps in the hall. I prayed that no one would walk in on us, since sometimes Zeinab would come in to wake me up on a Sunday. Oh, no, that reminds me, I missed Fajr!

"I want to be a better Muslim, Mariam, and I need you to help me," Yaz said quietly. I beamed, throwing my arms around her. "I've been waiting for this day for so long, Yaz!"

"You have?"

I nodded. "Of course, Yaz. You know I don't like to interfere with other people's lives, so I let you be, but now that you're seeking repentance – oh, I am so happy!"

Yaz smiled. "I think it's time I start strengthening my tie with Islam, since lately it's been a little...weak."

"When's the last time you prayed?" I asked her. We didn't talk much about religion; it was always a soft topic for her.

Yaz reddened. "Um, last Tuesday?"

I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping. "That long?"

Yaz nodded. "I was just so busy with homework and everything that I sort of forgot to pray," she admitted. "It's hard, okay? I feel guilty about it."

"Starting from today, Yasmine, I want you to pray at least four times a day, okay? Can you do that for me?" I said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Yaz shook her head. "No, I'm not going to do that for you. I'm going to do it for Allah."

I beamed. "That's my girl!" we hugged once more, only to be interrupted by Zeinab, who burst into the room without even knocking.

"Mariam, wake u – Yaz? What are you doing here?" she stared at us in shock.

I pressed a finger to my lips to silence my sister. "Zeinab, don't tell mum and dad about this, but Yaz stayed the night." Zeinab's eyes widened. "Are they awake?" she nodded. "They're in the kitchen. They told me to wake you up," she reported.

"Tell them I'll be down soon," I ordered, and she nodded, closing the door behind her. Five seconds later, the door swung open again, and there was Nasr, dressed in his day clothes, looking stern.

"Mariam, I thought I told you to get rid of her before mama and baba woke up?" he hissed.

Yaz crossed her arms and frowned at him. "Excuse me, I am not something you simply just get rid of, Nasr."

Nasr rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just make sure you leave without our parents finding out," he said before exiting the room, leaving the door open like an idiot.

I sighed in frustration. "Seriously, my brother is such a – astaghfurullah, I'm not even going to say it."

Yaz stared at me in awe. "What?" I asked.

"You're so good at controlling yourself," she complimented. "Like, I never hear you swear or say anything bad, except when you're speaking to Damian, but that's different."

"Yeah, because he's so damn irritating!" I gritted my teeth. "Do you know what he said to me at the party yesterday?"

"What did he say?"

I told him what he said, and Yaz shook her head in disgust. "I can't believe I used to like that guy," she muttered.

"How about Aidan? Do you still like him?" I inquired.

Yaz hesitated. "Can we not talk about him?"

I nodded. "Okay, we won't." I glanced at Yaz's outfit, and an idea suddenly struck me. "Hey, Yaz, do you want to go shopping today?"

Yaz's eyes widened. "I was just going to ask you the same thing!" she exclaimed.

I laughed, maybe a little too loudly, for my mother appeared in my doorway, which I had forgotten was open, and she didn't look too happy to see Yaz.

"What are you doing here, Yasmine?" my mother asked, crossing her arms tightly and looking suspicious.

"Oh, Sabah Al-Khair, Immi!" I fixed a bright smile on my face, hoping the smile would distract her, but it didn't.

"Ya Allah, what are you wearing, Yaz?" Immi walked into the room, studying Yaz's revealing dress.

"A dress?" Yaz tried.

Immi shook her head, muttering, "Astaghfurullahu adheem." She turned to me. "Mariam, why is she here?"

"Um, last minute sleepover?" By the look on my mother's face it was clear she didn't believe me.

"Did you go to a party, Yasmine?" Immi knew about Yaz and her partying habits.

Yaz nodded, to my surprise. "Yes, Ms. Barakat. But I swear it'll be the last." She looked so determined about it that even my mother believed her, and so did I.

"Well, since you're here, you might as well have breakfast. Mariam, give her some of your clothes," Immi directed me, and I nodded obediently.

"Do your parents know you're here?" Immi interrogated Yaz.

"Yes," Yaz replied, and the best part was it wasn't a lie.

Immi looked deep in thought, eyebrows pinched together. "Okay, we'll drive you back home after breakfast."

"Actually, I was thinking of going shopping with Mariam," Yaz said, exchanging a look with me. I nodded.

Immi frowned. "Shopping? Mariam, don't you have homework?"

"I finished it all yesterday, alhamdulillah," I declared proudly.

"Well, I guess you could go shopping, but take Zeinab with you," Immi suggested.

"Ooh, since Zeinab's coming, can I also bring Fatima?" I knew Fatima would love to come shopping with us. Especially if it was shopping for modest clothing for Yaz.

Immi agreed to this, leaving us finally after a few more questions about last night. We had to cover up our story, but it was for the best, or so I told myself. I hated lying.

I gave Yaz a purple shirt and my pale denim jeans, and together we headed into the bathroom to brush our teeth and then eat a late morning breakfast, since it was already ten o'clock. At the mention of shopping, Zeinab bounced up and down in excitement. I laughed. It had been a while since we'd gone shopping. We went a few times on the holidays, but that was over two weeks ago now.

Fatima came over to mine while we finished off our cereal. Yaz and Fatima had met before, and they were actually pretty good friends in primary, but lately they had been drifting apart since Yaz became wilder while Fatima was more reserved.

"So I heard you're in need of a little retail therapy," Fatima said as she hugged Yaz.

"Well, it's more like a makeover," Yaz explained.

"A modesty makeover," I added with a grin. To be honest, I was excited about this, and I could tell Fatima was too.

"Are you finally going to wear the hijab?" Fatima asked Yaz.

Yaz nodded. "I think I'm ready for it," she said, but under her layer of confidence she sounded nervous.

"Hey, you don't have to jump into it so suddenly, if you aren't ready," I told her gently. "No one's forcing you to wear it right now."

Yaz shook her head. "No, I want to do this. I think if I start wearing the hijab like you, it'll motivate me to become a better Muslim. I just need a little push, you know? I think my dream was that push I needed."

I turned to Fatima, filling her in on Yaz's dream. "Interesting," Fatima tapped her chin thoughtfully. "So you're finally joining the hijabi club!"

Yaz smiled. "Yeah, finally."

"I'm ready!" Zeinab called down the hallway. In the past ten minutes she had been glamming herself up for our shopping trip. She always loved to look good when she left the house, though I wouldn't call painting her face blue looking good, but to each their own, I guess.

"Okay, let's go now," I said, grabbing my purse. I stuck my head into the living room, where Nasr was studying his lecture notes. "Hey, Nasr, come drive us to the shopping centre!"

Nasr groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do, so Yallah!"

Nasr heaved himself off from the couch with a sigh, following me down the hall to the front door, where Fatima, Yasmine and Zeinab were gathered, wearing their shoes. Yaz's only shoes were the wedges she was wearing at the party, so she had no choice but to wear them. I had to admit she wore my clothes better than I did, but at least she was covering most of her body. She wasn't wearing one of my scarves yet, though, since she wanted to get one last day of "freedom" as she put it. Tomorrow would be the day she started wearing the hijab, In Sha Allah.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked her for the millionth time as we scooted into the car. Zeinab sat in shotgun this time, calling dibs before we even stepped out of the house, and Nasr started the car, grumbling under his breath about feeling like a chauffeur these days.

"I'm sure, Mariam," Yaz replied as we buckled our seatbelts. "I want to be more like you."

"Really?" I was touched. No one had ever said they wanted to be like me. Especially Yaz.

"Yes, really. You're so pious, I envy you sometimes."

"Envy is not an Islamic emotion," I chided.

Yaz rolled her eyes. "Well, it's how I feel when I see how confident you are with your – our - religion. I always thought having fabulous hair and tight clothes gave me confidence, but after my dream, I realized it's the opposite."

I couldn't believe the words that Yaz were speaking. Never before did I think she would say something like that. Yaz really had changed, and for the better. "I'm glad you finally realized that, Yaz," I said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "I feel like you've grown up so much in just one night."

Yaz smiled wistfully. "Yeah, me too. But I still have more growing up to do, and I couldn't have asked for a better friend to grow up with."

"You guys are just too cute," Fatima gushed, listening the entire time. So were Zeinab and Nasr.

"More like cheesy," Nasr muttered.

"Then we're cute cheese," Yaz said suddenly, making us all laugh.

"Only you would say something as weird as that," I laughed.

Nasr gave us three hours, which would be plenty of time to find Yaz some cool hijabs and long sleeved clothing while also checking out the sales at Pavement and Forever New. Mama had given Zeinab and me some money to spend, saying to spend it on halal things only, and Fatima had brought some money too. We vowed to use it on Yaz in what would be the biggest Muslim Makeover in history - okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

***

"This is freaky," Yaz said as she stared at herself in the mirror.

"Why?" I asked.

"This is the exact hijab I wore in my dream!" she exclaimed, turning to me with wide eyes. I had to admit she still looked beautiful with her hair covered up. Yaz's hair was her biggest trademark, since it was so long and luscious and the colour of midnight. Without it she wasn't Yaz, but with this light rose hijab she looked like a true practising Muslima.

"It really suits you," Fatima commented.

"Yeah," Zeinab agreed. We were at a hijab shop, and Yaz was trying on different hijabs. We had bought her some long sleeved shirts to wear under her school dress like I did, as well as some white tights for her legs.

"I think we'll just get the white one for school," Yaz decided, removing the pink scarf from her head. I had seen Yaz wear hijab before, but that was when we were younger, and we were just fooling around. Now, seeing her wear it, even for just a minute, it made me realize how serious she was about this. Yaz wanted to be good, and she only proved it by willingly buying hijabs with us.

"Masha'allah, look at the design of this one," I traced my fingers over a silk gold hijab with black and white patterns, calling Fatima over. We went hijab shopping together when we first started wearing it at thirteen, so we've always shared an appreciation for the designs and colours of the scarves.

"Wow, I really want to buy it, but I've run out of money," Fatima pouted.

"I could buy it for you, if you like?" I offered.

Fatima's eyes lit up. "Really? Oh, Jazakallahu Khair, Mariam!" she flung her arms around me.