The rest of the week was just filled with homework, heat and hate. February was known for being the hottest month of the year, and it wasn't made easier with the amount of homework and studying I had to do, because who said year twelve was easy? Yasmine's new decision had caused a stir of gossip amongst Damian's circle of friends, which spanned out to about half the year level. Girls like Samantha, Carrie and Annabelle were spreading rumours about Yasmine and what went down at Aidan's party, and though I didn't care for all that gossip, the things I did hear were quite ridiculous, but more importantly, false. Yasmine hadn't joined a terrorist group, nor had she been forced to wear the hijab as a punishment from her parents. Though she had many supportive and understanding friends, there was still a lot of hate around. Yasmine had been known as a party girl, and the fact that she was off-limits now to the guys made many of them a little pissed, but they soon forgot about her, moving onto the next pair of boobs on legs.

Aidan didn't try pursuing Yasmine further, and Yasmine seemed fine with that, for she too ignored him as best as she could. I knew she had maths with him, but she had other friends to sit with, and Aidan didn't bother her anymore.

Friday finally came around, and though I was excited for it as it was the last day of the week, I dreaded the presentation with Damian. But I didn't see Damian on the bus that morning, nor did I see him at the lockers, or during recess. It finally came to the double period of physics after recess when it registered – Damian wasn't here.

"I can't believe he ditched me!" I cried indignantly to Denise, who was preparing her cue cards for her presentation. Florence sat on our table, along with Aidan and Russell since they were working together. I, however, was alone, which sucked, and it sucked even more because Aidan was shooting me loaded looks. Was he seriously still hung up on Yaz?

"Well, what can you expect from a guy like him?" Denise said, as if she'd seen it all. "They're all ditchers."

"Whatever, I don't need him. I can do this presentation myself, and still ace it," I muttered confidently, adding silently In Sha Allah.

"We'll be doing the presentations in roll order," Mr Newton said, grinning at all of us. "So, first off, we have Mariam Barakat!"

"Lucky me," I murmured sarcastically, getting up from my seat. Denise shot me the thumbs up sign as I made my way to the front of the class, my heart throbbing at an alarming rate. Since when did I get nervous? I never got nervous for presentations – call me strange, but I enjoyed the spotlight. It made me feel like an influential speaker at some conference, like a world leader with an inspirational speech. And it didn't matter what topic I presented on, I almost always managed to add my own inspiring words to conclude, and this almost always guaranteed an A+.

"Bismillah tawakaltu a'lallah, la howla wala quwata illa billah," I read the du'aa in my head, the du'aa that reminded me that I should put my trust in Allah, no matter what I was doing. Doing this had become a ritual for me, and 99% of the time it earned me an A. The other one percent was my fault.

"Damian and I researched the formation of stars. Unfortunately, Damian couldn't be here today, so I will be presenting his and my work alone," I intro, nodding at Mr Newton, who was writing down comments on the rubric. I was not just representing myself, I was representing Damian too, minus the cocky attitude and crave for attention.

I knew the bits I researched well, but when it came to Damian's parts all I could do was read off the screen, as I hadn't gone in depth with those areas. I wondered if Damian had even known what he was talking about when he typed in his information, but I just hoped and prayed that it wouldn't lessen my marks. I was glad when I reached the end, for my mouth was getting dry from speaking non-stop for five minutes. At the end of the double period Mr Newton handed out the rubrics to the pairs, and as the bell rang I skimmed through his comments, praying that I had done well. But then I saw the B+, and my features fell.

"Could've explained the concept of stellar structure better and perhaps elaborated on certain aspects of the star properties. Good use of Prezi, but next time include more pictures, and less information. Also, it would help if your partner was present, but good presentation overall."

Good. Two weeks with Damian had come down to just 'good.' It seemed that if Damian had bothered to show his face today, I would've done better, so I approached Mr Newton at the end of class.

"Um, Mr Newton? I don't think I deserve this grade," I said purposefully, handing him the rubric.

"Is it too high for you?" Mr Newton smirked. Now whenever someone smirked it reminded me of Damian.

"On the contrary, Mr Newton," I replied. "I believe I worked hard on this assignment, and the fact that my partner wasn't able to come might've impacted my grade."

"Well, you should've informed me prior to the presentation if you knew Damian wasn't able to come," Mr Newton frowned as he packed up his stuff.

"That's the thing – I didn't know he was going to bail," I said maybe a little bitterly. A B plus was the lowest grade I had gotten since year eight, and I was not going to let my A average falter because of some stupid malingerer.

"There are no excuses, Mariam. I specifically emphasized that it was a pair assignment, and unless there is a really good reason for his absence, I have no choice but to give you this grade," Mr Newton was putting on that tone teacher's adopted when there was nothing they could do. Damian better have a good reason for being absent if a B plus was all I was getting.

"What if we present next class when he's returned?" I suggested hopefully.

Mr Newton shook his head, carrying his bag and turning toward the door. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mariam. Today was the presentation date, and there are no exceptions. Have a good lunch." And with those last words, he beckoned me out the classroom, locking the door and marching down the corridor into his office. He had used 'good' again. I no longer liked that word. I was better than good, I was capable of doing more than just good, with Allah's guidance of course.

Even throughout Zuhr prayer in room 13 with Yasmine and Zeinab, I couldn't stop feeling disappointed in myself. I should've researched Damian's parts too, and prepared myself better. Though it was Damian's fault too, it was mostly mine. And I couldn't let that go, as well as my anger for Damian.

"Mariam, are you okay? You look like you want to murder someone," Yasmine asked gently as we descended the stairs and went out into the courtyard where Denise and Theo waited for us.

"I kind of do want to murder someone," I said, clenching my fists, until I remembered that getting angry wasn't going to solve anything, so I mentally recited the shahada, immediately calming down my murderous thoughts.

"Who? Damian?" Yasmine picked up quickly.

"Yep. Thanks to him, I basically failed our presentation, mostly because he wasn't there!" I cried as we approached our two loyal friends. They were deep in conversation about some TV show they were both watching, and they didn't notice us until we sat with them at the table.

"Oh, hey," Denise squinted at us, smiling. Theo acknowledged us with a nod before continuing his conversation with Denise.

"Wow, they've really grown close," I observed as I took a bite of my manaeesh (cheese pie).

"So have we," Yasmine beamed, putting an arm around me.

"We've always been close," I reminded her. "But these two are like pickles and ice cream."

"We can hear you, you know," Denise rolled her eyes at us. I realized they had stopped talking, and were looking at us.

"Me and Denise are BFFs now, right?" Theo fist bumped Denise.

"What's with guys and fist bumps? Seriously," I shook my head, chuckling.

"Cause it looks cool, yo!" Theo said, crossing his arms and pouting.

"That's right, yo," Denise imitated his expression, making us laugh.

"I guess opposites really do attract, then," Yasmine remarked amusingly. "You two couldn't be any more different."

"You'd be surprised how much we have in common," Theo said, nudging Denise, "Like we both love the show Heroes!"

Denise nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. "Yeah, and we both love cats."

I gaped at Theo. "You're a cat lover?"

"Aw, that's so cute," Yasmine gushed.

Theo frowned, glancing at Denise. "I told you, I said I liked wild cats, not cats like those fluffy little kittens."

"Same difference," Denise rolled her eyes.

"There's definitely a difference between ROAR and meow," Theo's demonstration of the two types of cats made me choke on my cheese pie in laughter, and I was pretty sure Yasmine had snorted a piece of her sandwich up her nose at how hard she laughed.

"Well, it's great to see the two of you bonding," Yasmine said as she pulled out a tissue from her pocket to blow her nose. Just as I suspected.

"Hey, Mims, we need to work on our methods assignment," Theo reminded me, and I let out a groan.

"Oh, yeah, it's due this Monday isn't it?" Theo nodded. "God, I was so caught up with my english and chemistry that I forgot all about that."

"How about I come over to yours with Alex and we work on it tomorrow?" Theo suggested.

"Okay, sounds good," I agreed. It wouldn't be the first time Theo came to my house; as Alex's younger brother and my friend, my parents didn't mind Theo's company. He was very respectful and trustworthy (at least that was what he had fooled my parents into thinking he was) and whenever he came over, Baba would always talk about the soccer with him, since they were both Real Madrid fans. So really, he was just another addition to the family.

"By the way, what mark did you get for the presentation?" Denise asked me. She was one of the first to leave the classroom since she had been craving wedges the whole time, and she wanted to buy them at the canteen before they sold out.

"I got a B+," I replied wearily. "If only Damian had been there, it would've been an A, apparently."

"I never thought I'd hear you say those words," Denise chuckled. "If only Damian had been there," she imitated me in a girly voice.

Theo and Yasmine laughed. "Yeah, you two really are like pickles and ice cream," Theo remarked.

"Damian's definitely the pickle," Yasmine added.

"And I'm ice cream because I'm so sweet," I said, fluttering my eyelashes angelically.

And that began a whole new philosophical conversation on what ice cream flavour we would each be, to which I was raspberry swirl, Denise was butterscotch, Theo was chocolate mint and Yasmine was cherry.

"I would definitely eat me," Theo stated smugly.

"Of course you would, Theo," I chuckled.

I noticed Yasmine beside me staring off into the distance, barely contributing to the conversation for the past couple of minutes, as we had moved on from ice cream flavours and were now comparing ourselves with wild animals. By the types of topics we talk about, you could tell we were slightly crazy people.

"Hey, what's up with you?" I nudged Yasmine gently, and she blinked at me, eyelashes so long they could swat flies. One thing that hadn't changed about Yasmine in the past five days of wearing hijab was her excessive use of makeup. When nothing but your face was showing, it was tempting to glam up, but I didn't wear makeup at school, except for the occasional smear of lip gloss.

"Oh, nothing, it's just –" Yasmine sighed, looking down at her hands. I noticed her fingernails had the classic French manicure look I could never pull off, and she had a silver ring on her left index finger, a ring her grandmother had gave her before she passed away two years ago.

"Hey, is that Aidan?" Denise pointed to the other side of the courtyard, where a blond guy was making out with another girl. We all turned to where she was pointing, all except Yasmine, and that's when I put two and two together.

"Crap, it is!" Theo cursed, glancing at Yasmine in concern. "Did you see that?"

Yasmine nodded without looking up from the tabletop. "Yep. And I couldn't care less." But it was clear to see from the way her brow was scrunched up and the way she chewed her lip that she did care, and it was affecting her.

"Come on, Aidan isn't worth your heartbreak. You see how quickly he's moved on? Not that he had anything to move on from in the first place..." I trailed off when I saw Yasmine's eyes gloss over with tears.

"You're right. He isn't worth it. Aidan was a mistake, and I'm glad he's forgotten about me. I'm a different person now," Yasmine's tone grew stronger with each word, and I patted her on the back affectionately.

"You're not just different – you're stronger, and you know why? Because you have your faith as a shield, and no one can bring you down if you have God on your side," I said in my inspirational voice.

Yasmine nodded, cracking a smile. "Thanks, Mariam. I feel better now."

"You should come to the masjid with me tonight," I said after giving her a hug.

Yasmine nodded. "Okay. I will, In Sha Allah. I'll come with my family."

The bell trilled, and Denise and Theo went ahead of us as I walked with Yasmine. I was also keeping an eye on Aidan, who had his arm slung around Annabelle's waist as they entered the building twenty metres before us, but luckily Yasmine didn't notice this. That's how he had held her a week ago when everything seemed fine and dandy. This was why dating was prohibited in Islam – it was toxic. And Yasmine had gotten a taste of that poison, saved only by the revelation of religion. Because if you had religion, you had everything.

***

"Masha'allah, Mariam, you have grown taller!" Yasmine's mother, Samia, grinned at me as she gripped me by the arms, giving me the once over. She was now shorter than me, as I had grown a couple centimetres over the summer. Her saying I was taller wasn't much, since Samia was a short woman anyway. Beside her was Hameed, Yasmine's father, and he was taller than my dad. He had a black beard (not like the pirate though) and a wide smile. Yasmine had the same straight nose as her father, but everything else was from her mother.

"And you look younger than when I last saw you, Auntie!" I complimented, earning a pinch on the cheek. Yasmine's mother loved to do that to me, since I apparently had such chubby cheeks and a round face.

"You are too sweet, Mariam," Samia couldn't stop grinning. "Isn't Mariam sweet, Hameed?" she turned to her husband, to which he replied with, "She's as sweet as baklava." Now that was sweet.

Maghrib prayer was over, and many of the Muslims were dispersing, excepting the few that stayed for Quran. My mother was sitting in the corner with Zeinab reading Quran, while Nasr was outside talking to his masjid mates, Yasmine's brother being one of them. Though he was older, Yusuf got along well with Nasr.

"Baba, you're embarrassing her," Yasmine whined, though she was smiling, probably enjoying the fact that I was being compared to food.

"Well, we're just happy to see Mariam again after so long. We usually don't go to this mosque because it's so far away but we're glad we came so we could see you," Samia said, taking my hands in hers. "I just want to say Jazakallahu khair for convincing my daughter to finally wear the hijab. She was so stubborn before! I knew you were a good influence."

"I didn't convince her," I said in all honesty, glancing at Yasmine with a bright smile. "Yasmine convinced herself."

"But you told us that Mariam was the one that convinced you to wear it?" Hameed looked confused.

Yasmine shrugged. "Well, that's partly true, I wouldn't have done it without her inspiring me to." I supposed she hadn't told her parents her dream, which would've been awkward since she would've had to mention she was naked for part of it until I came and offered her modest clothing. Then it hit me – in the dream I had convinced her, so in a way, she was telling the truth. Spiritually, I had influenced a fellow Muslima to make a choice, and for that, I felt extremely honoured.

"Well, we have to leave now," Samia said sadly, hugging me once again. As Yasmine embraced me, she whispered into my hijab, "Thank you for being my inspiration."

"You're welcome, Yasmina," I smiled, slowly letting go of her fingertips as she walked away with her parents. I scanned the masjid for Fatima, who had been reading Quran this entire time I had been catching up with Yasmine's parents. No doubt she was ahead of me in the Quran, since I had had another busy week of homework, leaving no time for reading. But I got a surprise as I sat beside her with my own kitab from the cabinet and noticed she was only up to Surah Saba, while I was on Ya Sin.

"Looks like I am in the lead," I whispered triumphantly.

Fatima glanced up, brown eyes burning with determination. "I had a lot of homework this week, but just you wait, I will catch up to you soon enough."

"In Sha Allah," I used to think In Sha Allah only had one meaning, and that was that whatever you said before or after it will definitely happen. But I've realized now that it means 'If Allah wills' so if Allah wills it, it shall be, but if not, then let it be. But with something like Quran, it was a personal thing, and creating a race out of it was only an incentive to pick up the kitab and spend more time on it. And it was a pretty good incentive, too. Ultimately, whoever finished first didn't matter, it was the reading that got us there that did.

After ten minutes of reading, Fatima and I started getting restless, since sitting beside your best friend you didn't see that often was making it hard to concentrate on Quran, so we closed the kitabs, returning them to their place on the shelf, and headed out into the courtyard, illuminated by an outdoor light. Nasr was kicking around a soccer ball casually with a few younger boys. I noticed one of the guys playing with him was Zaid, and for a moment I watched him interacting with the kids, goofing around with them as they dribbled the ball. When a young boy kicked the goal, Zaid celebrated with him by lifting him up into his arms, cheering and pumping his fists.

Nasr looked irritated, so I took it that he was on the opposing team. "Can we join?" I asked, stepping into the courtyard. Nasr glanced at me and Fatima in surprise, as if he didn't expect us to be here. Then he turned to the younger boys, grabbing their attention with his deep voice. "Should we let these two girls join?" he asked them.

The boys looked at us, their ages ranging from five to fifteen, excluding Zaid, who was my age, if not a little older, and shook their heads. "Girls can't play soccer!" they taunted.