"I'll never look at fish the same way again," I said solemnly as we headed out to our lockers, a little traumatized from the dissection.

Denise, however, found it grawesome – a mixture between gruesome and awesome. "That was so cool," she remarked, and I just looked at her in befuddlement, wondering why I had such a strange friend. Then again, all my friends were strange, and I wasn't too far from the strange wagon.

My locker was slowly getting messier. It wasn't that I couldn't be bothered organizing it, just that it was hard since the time it took to shove my books in and get out of the way as quickly as possible for Damian wasn't enough to sort out my folders and make sure they weren't arranged in a way that would make them fall like a Jenga tower.

"Stay," I ordered my biology folder, which I had precariously balanced on top of the pile of my folders. But as soon as the word left my mouth, the entire pile slipped toward me, falling heavily on the bottom of my locker, a few textbooks landing on the floor. I let out a groan of frustration. I guess it was bound to happen someday.

"Looks like you've experienced the locker avalanche," Damian commented from behind me, shaking his head at all the mess and not even offering to help. I glared up at him, but he didn't seem to notice because he was shooting a finger at one of his mates further down the corridor. The king was back.

"Hurry up," Damian huffed impatiently as I gathered my books in my hand, standing up and giving him the stink eye.

"It'd be quicker if you helped," I pointed out, and Damian sighed, bending down to pick up my math textbook, the heaviest of them all, handing it to me and saying, "Happy?"

I smiled. "Thanks."

Damian helped with the rest of the books, and I finally was able to shut my locker without fear of opening it the next time and drowning in all my books. As Damian unlocked his lock, he said, "So I tried out reading your so-called Holy Book."

At this my eyebrows shot up, surprised. No, make that taken aback. "Really?"

"Yes," Damian replied without looking at me. "Only like the first few pages."

"And what did you think?" I inquired, genuinely curious. I couldn't believe he'd actually listened to me, but I guess we were both coming to terms with new beliefs nowadays.

Damian shut his locker and stood up, his pockets jangling with coins as he shoved his hands into them. He squinted, gazing somewhere else as he answered with, "I think it was...intimidating."

Out of all the words Damian could've used to describe his thoughts about the Quran, intimidating was the last one I expected him to use. "Intimidating? As in, it scared you?" I chuckled. I knew what he meant by it being intimidating. I had read the English translation and the first few pages in Surah Al-Baqara speak about the disbelievers, and how their hearts have disease and they are destined for punishment. Though translated in English didn't have the same effect, it still portrayed a meaning that was omnipotent, showing how powerful Allah was, despite the language.

Damian's eyes snapped to mine, and he screwed up his face as if he regretted what he had said. "No, it didn't scare me," he scoffed, shaking his head. "But there was a lot of stuff about hypocrites and disbelievers being blind and dumb. I felt insulted, to be honest."

"So are you saying you are among the blind and dumb?" I chuckled.

"Well, according to your book 'Allah' is mocking me," Damian formed quotations marks with his fingers, rolling his eyes.

I shook my head. "That's not true. And don't forget, that's only directed to those who have completely disbelieved," I explained.

Damian cocked an eyebrow. "Doesn't that include me?"

"That depends, do you want to be included as a disbeliever or a believer?" I asked.

"I don't believe in your religion so doesn't that make me a disbeliever?" Damian shot back.

"If you don't believe in my religion, why did you bother to read the Quran?" I retorted. He could've just ignored my request, after all, he had his own free will to do whatever he wanted, so why did he choose to read it?

Damian hesitated, looking a little stuck, until he cried defensively, "I just wanted to see for myself, okay? And it's clear to see that your religion has something against people like me, who don't 'believe.'"

I sighed. Damian had the wrong idea already just from reading the English translation. "Why are you so keen on remaining a disbeliever if you are so offended by Allah's punishment for you?" I questioned. It was a good question, if I did say so myself. When Damian didn't immediately reply, I added, "Or are you just that stubborn?"

"It's going to take a lot more than a few petty threats and insults to convince me, Mariam," Damian smirked. "I'm not stubborn, you're just not persuasive enough for me."

"Then I guess I'm going to have to up my game, then," I said with a sly smile.

Damian leaned forward, whispering, "Bring it on."

"Okay," I accepted his challenge, as I always did, and put forward a proposal (not a marriage proposal, hold your horses, girl). "But I'm not the right person to persuade you."

"Are you backing out, Mariam?" Damian smirked.

"Nope, not even close," I replied. "See, I have a secret weapon."

"I knew it," Damian laughed, and it was then that I realized the effect of my words. As a muslim, I really shouldn't be flaunting my words around like that.

"No, not an actual weapon, like a gun or a knife, God," I corrected with a roll of my eyes. "A person."

"A suicide bomber?"

I groaned, smacking a palm to my forehead. "Would you quit it with the terrorist references? We're not all terrorists, you know. In fact, terrorism is against everything we believe in."

"Then what do you believe in?" Damian inquired, crossing his arms and regarding me from under his eyelashes.

"Freedom, Respect, Tolerance, Justice, Charity – just to name a few," I added. "Anyway, I want you to meet someone. He was once like you, in a way."

"So he's extremely good-looking?" Damian joked.

"No, but he was questioning the meaning of life, wondering what the point of it was," I ignored his egotistical remark, as I had realized was the best way to deal with it. "He was also a Christian until he turned to science and atheism, but that was all before he came across Islam."

"So he converted?" Damian deduced.

"Uh-huh. Which proves my point that being a disbeliever isn't a permanent choice, even people who never believed in God accepted Islam," I concluded. "There's still hope for you. For everyone, really, until we die."

At my last words Damian's expression became sullen, so I quickly added, "Would you like to meet this person?"

Damian shrugged. "Sure, I guess. If you say he was like me, then...I'm curious to know his point of view."

It's good to be curious. I remembered Hassan's words to us when we questioned him on his reasons for converting. "The only way you can meet him is by coming to the mosque," I said. "Tonight."

Damian cocked an eyebrow. "Are you inviting me on a date or something?" he joked.

"Absolutely not. In fact, you don't even have to come," I said with a sliver of a smile. Damian looked confused, so I added, "After all, it's up to you. I'm not forcing anything, I'm simply giving you the directions and whether you follow my directions is your decision."

I had to make Damian feel like he had a choice, because I wasn't here to bark da'wa in his face and force him to accept everything I tell him. It was all about free will, what set us apart from every other species on this planet and what directed us in life. Without our free will, we might as well all be angels living solely to worship Allah. Sometimes I wished I could just live like that without all these worries of the duniya and become like a monk, but the Muslim version, of course. But all these distractions were just obstacles in the course of life that made us stronger as mu'mineen, testing our allegiance to Allah.

"Fair enough," Damian held up his hands. "But it seems like you don't care either way. I thought you wanted to win this bet?"

"I do," I replied with an eager nod. "But the question is, do you want to listen to me?"

"Well, you do have a nice voice, so I could listen to you all day," Damian winked, and I was surprised at the heat that rose to my cheeks. Astaghfurullah!

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, you're missing the point...again," I sighed.

"Isn't that your job? To show me the point?" Damian pointed a finger to me.

"Just come to the masjid – I mean, mosque, tonight at seven thirty," I told him firmly as I saw Yasmine approach us from the corner of my eye.

"Wow, so demanding. You really do want me, don't you?" Damian laughed, and I exchanged a look with Yasmine that said, "Can you believe what I'm dealing with here?"

Yasmine rolled her eyes, smiling in amusement. I just ignored the blush in my cheeks and scowled at Damian. "Why are you so dirty minded?"

"I guess God made me that way," Damian said mockingly, strolling away down the corridor and joining Aidan and Felix.

I turned to Yasmine, shaking my head in disbelief. "I seriously can't even anymore."

"Does this mean Mission CTBB is back on?" Yasmine asked with a gleam in her eye. She loved speaking about our mission, because she said it made her feel like some sort of secret agent on a mission from Allah, and putting it that way made it sound much better than, "I got in a bet with the bad boy." Yasmine just had a way of making anything sound better – one of the many reasons why I loved her.

"It sure is," I said as we walked side by side down the length of the corridor, swarming with colourful Year Twelves. Free dress days were so vibrant and colourful, you could hardly tell apart the teachers from the students, and it was a day that everyone could display their fashion sense. Alhamdulillah I had good taste in fashion, even if my home attire said otherwise.

Yasmine clapped her hands in joy. "And here I thought you had given up," I shot her a look, which made her add hastily, "Even though that's practically impossible for you, since you are Miss Persistent and all..."

I smiled, satisfied with her answer as I hooked my arm in hers. "I invited Damian to meet Hassan at the mosque tonight," I divulged.

Yasmine's eyes bulged, letting out a shriek. "You did? Oh my Allah, why didn't I think of that before?"

"Because you're not me," I teased. "Anyway, I don't even know if he'll come, but either way, at least I tried."

"That's the most important thing," Yasmine agreed. "But if he does come, he won't regret it."

***

"So I've got this media project..." Denise began as we all sat down to eat. It took five minutes to walk down to the grass from the building, and five minutes to get back, and we only had a twenty minute break, so basically half the time was already lost.

"Don't tell me you're going to need models or something," I said with a roll of my eyes. Last year Denise had used Yaz and Theo as models, depicting them as a couple for her project about celebrity love being exploited in the media, and how they had no privacy without being followed by paparazzi. She had collated the images onto a mini magazine and wrote an article for it for her assignment, and it almost made me want to do Media too, but it was one of the subjects that got scored down, and I was focusing more on the sciences and math rather than the arts.

"I do, but I need specific types of models," Denise said, looking at Yasmine and me pointedly. "I want to do a magazine section on Muslims, especially female Muslims."

I exchanged a look with Yasmine, and we both nodded in approval. "Okay, we'll do it," Yasmine agreed. "But under one condition."

"Anything," Denise smiled, glad that we had accepted.

"I get to choose all our outfits for the photoshoot," Yasmine said seriously, and Denise laughed.

"Of course! For a moment you scared me with how serious you looked," Denise said with a hand over her heart.

"For your next media assignment, can you do something about sports so I can be in it?" Theo begged her. "I'm a great model. Check this out." He began to demonstrate different poses, most of them with his arms flexed and lips pouted with a smouldering gaze into the distance, making us all laugh.

"Yeah, definitely, Theo," Denise giggled, her cheeks tinged with colour. I had been noticing her getting more embarrassed lately around Theo, and I didn't want to jump to any conclusions but at the same time...

"We can meet up on the holidays for the photoshoots," Denise suggested, and so we began discussing ideas for what we could do in the photos, because Denise wanted to portray the Islamic fashion of women, and how covering up was beautiful, despite the media portraying women with less clothing year by year to be sexy and attractive. Even Theo thought it was a good idea for her assignment, and the bell rang with us all feeling hopeful and excited for the holidays, which were so close we could just taste them.

***

Damian's POV

"Pleeeease, Damian? For me?" Sam batted her eyelashes at me as she clutched my arm, pouting her bottom lip. She had really nice lips, lips I had kissed before, but for some reason, the way she was desperately clinging onto me and begging whiningly was a turn-off. Sam was constantly flirting with me and you might think that was every guy's dream to have a girl pining after him so persistently, but honestly, it was getting old.

"I can't, Sam, sorry," I said dismissively, wrenching my arm from her grasp. She sure had a tight grip. I used to enjoy her always holding on to me because that shit was sexy, but now I just wanted to get away. It was lunch time, and we were all hanging out at our usual spot, and things were good until Sam mentioned an end of term party she was throwing at her place.

"Is it because of your...mum?" Aidan asked, sipping from his vanilla coke can. I always thought vanilla coke was for pussies, and Aidan and I had debates about the masculinity of vanilla coke (debates I lost, though that was an unimportant detail) but I gotta admit, that shit tasted good.

"N – Yeah," I nodded, deciding to go along with that excuse. My mum was fine – more than fine, actually. She had been home for two weeks, and she was getting better at mobility and doing things by herself, especially since my aunt was staying over to help out. My dad was away on a business trip to Sydney, so I was the only guy in the house. If my aunt wasn't there, I didn't know what we would do. She and my mum were close since they were sisters, and my aunt had a daughter in uni now, Tracey, and we got along pretty well. She was my only cousin from my mum's side – my dad's side consisted of lots of little cousins since he had three brothers who all had two kids each. But these kids were born when I was already in high school, so Tracey was closer to me, almost like an older sister.

"Okay, that's alright, then," Sam shrugged, fixing a smile on her face. "Your dad's in Sydney, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be back next week," I replied.

"I thought your aunt was taking care of your mum now?" Felix questioned, looking confused, and I nudged him sharply, glaring.

"Shut up, dude," I hissed.

"It's okay, Mums always come first, no matter what," Sam said understandingly, and I almost remembered why I used to like her, other than the fact that she was the hottest girl in school, hands down. She was really understanding, and though a lot of the girls thought she was a bit of a bitch, she could be nice. But her niceness was overshadowed by her naivety. I used to find it cute, but now her cluelessness was irritating. Like, grow a brain, girl!

"Thanks, Sam," I beamed at her, and her green eyes flashed as she returned my smile, twirling a strand of straw-blonde hair around her finger.

"I really hope she's doing okay," Aidan said in concern, his brows furrowed, and I almost felt guilty for lying to them. My mum was still alive but barely breathing (hm, that sounds like one of The Script's songs...) and here I was taking advantage of her illness so I could...wow, was I really lying just so I could go to that mosque Mariam told me to go to? No, that wasn't completely the reason. If I was going to be honest, I didn't feel right going to a party and having fun when my mum couldn't even get up the stairs by herself, let alone have any real fun. Watching Netflix all day wasn't fun. Not as fun as going out into the world and doing things. Experience life to the fullest. #YOLO, right?

"Yeah, she is, but the stairs..." I trailed off, realizing that my friends had moved on to a different subject. I downed the rest of my chocolate Oak drink and headed to the bin to discard it. As I let go of it, I glanced up across the grass and saw Mariam with her squad. Those four were always together, so loyal to each other...my friends were great and all, but not as great as Denise, Theo, Yaz and Mariam. Shit, did I seriously just compare my friends to a bunch of losers like them? I shook the thought away, chuckling to myself. But I found myself watching the four of them laughing about something, Mariam laughing the hardest. She was wearing a black and white sweater dress and a black scarf that brought out her eyes...wait, what?

I returned to my friends to find Aidan's arm around Anabelle. They had been going out for almost a month now, and they looked good with each other. But not as good as Aidan had been with Yaz...I still wondered why she decided to spontaneously wear the scarf like Mariam straight after that party. It didn't make sense. I mean, I knew she was Muslim and all, but she wasn't wearing it before. In fact, she had been the opposite of Mariam until Mariam showed up at that party and took her away. I swear, there was something about that religion of Mariam's...

"Remember that time we went bowling, Damian? I think it was..." Sam thought for a moment, and then her eye's sparked with the memory. "It was our second date, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," I answered vaguely, hands deep in my pockets. I didn't know why Samantha was bringing up our awkward dates when we were fifteen. Seriously, I'd rather forget that time when I didn't know what the heck I was doing. But we both learned...together.

"You were so good at bowling. You got ten strikes in a row, didn't you?" I nodded. "God, I suddenly want to go bowling again. Is that lame?"

"Kind of," Annabelle wrinkled her nose. She was a little snobby. Things like bowling and football were gross, according to her. She was more of an ice skating, ballet girl. At least with Sam we got to go wherever I wanted because we both liked the same things. She barracked for the same football team as me – Collingwood forever! – So I'd take her to a few games back when we were dating.

"Oh, come on, Belle! We totally need to meet up more this holidays," Sam begged, grabbing her arm and yanking it.