Damian's POV

"How's school going?" Mum murmured as she leaned back on the pillow the nurse had fluffed up for her moments before. I tried to avoid looking at the IV drip because in all honesty I hated needles, but I had gotten used to seeing them since Mum's chemo involved a lot of injections.

We were in the hospital for her usual chemotherapy, and the nurse had left the room briefly while the drip fed the chemo through Mum's veins. It took around half an hour for it all to go through, so during that time Mum and I had a conversation.

"It's tough," I admitted with a slight chuckle. "But I'm working hard."

"That's what I like to hear," Mum smiled, closing her eyes. "How's Mariam?"

I wasn't surprised Mum asked about her, since Mariam played a big part in my life now. And Mum 'never forgot a pretty face.'

"She's great, as usual," I replied casually.

Mum raised her eyebrows slightly. "You still talk to her?"

"Well, yeah, we...we talk," I nodded. I hadn't told Mum that I actually hung out with her now and her other friends. They were such a cool little group, and they treated me like I was always there with them, and we had always been friends. Friends had a new meaning now. It wasn't just about people you hung out with to look cool and show off with, it was about the ones who cared about you and stuck with you even through the dark times. And I felt like I had people like that now, more than ever.

"How about your other mates, Aidan, Felix, Sam..." Mum trailed off, her breaths becoming deeper and slower as the chemo kicked in, weakening her, but at the same time, killing the cancer cells within.

"We're in touch," I shared classes with each of them, so it wasn't like I avoided them completely, but I felt more comfortable, now that I was a new Muslim, to hang out with Mariam and Yaz. They understood what I was going through, and they had the answers to all my questions. The best part was, I could be myself around them. There was no façade, just me. The real me. The me I was still trying to figure out.

"You did your GAT already, didn't you," Mum sounded half asleep, but she was fighting through it, still making the effort to talk to me, while Dad was out shopping for desperately needed groceries.

"Uh-huh. Two weeks ago." The GAT was a general assessment exam for all students doing Unit 3/4 subjects, and this year it was set in Ramadan, meaning I was both hungry and thirsty during the three hours we had to do it. However, I wasn't really worried about my score on it; the end of year exams were the ones I should really be concerned about.

"I'm sure you did well," Mum mumbled with a slight smile.

"This week is our last week of term," I spoke gently, tenderly, quietly, like the breath of the wind. "I'll be by your side for two whole weeks, Mum."

"I look forward to that," Mum whispered.

"In Sha Allah," I muttered, more to myself than her, squeezing her hand that didn't have the drip in. It pained me to see her like this, but I had to stay by her side and be with her. I also used these sessions to make du'aa, or supplication, to Allah, begging Him for Mum's recovery, and if she didn't recover, then at least ease her pain and suffering. No prayer was too small, and I didn't expect a miracle or anything, but I knew whatever Allah granted me, it would be what was best for all of us, though I might not know it yet.

That was one of the most important things I had learned from Mariam, to have patience, for surely, Allah loved those who were patient. And haste came from the Shaytaan, or the devil.

I read the first Surah of the Quran, Al-Fatiha, to Mum as she fell asleep in a low murmur, and then I read the three last Surahs, since they were short and easy to remember. Each week I learned a new surah by heart, just like little Muslim kids did, as it was obligatory to learn some of the last Chapter, and use it in prayer. What I loved about each Surah was that each verse rhymed, so it was like reciting a poem - a beautifully crafted poem.

Mariam introduced me to some Sheikhs who read the verses of the Quran in melodious tones, and I would sometimes sit by her on the bus and share an earphone, listening to it with an open heart. It was more moving than music, and I remembered first hearing it and getting goosebumps. It transported you to another world, a world far better than this one, and I found myself sometimes listening to it while studying, not understanding it, but just appreciating the feeling it brought me. A feeling of hope.

***

"I've been telling my Mum about Islam," I told Mariam as the bus jostled us about so I involuntarily bumped shoulders with her. I was sure there was nothing wrong with sitting next to her on the bus, and there was nothing wrong with sharing ear phones to listen to Quran, but today Mariam had forgotten her ear phones, so we stuck to just talking.

"Oh, really? And how is she taking it?" Mariam gazed out the window, never looking at me as we spoke.

"Well," I shrugged. "She still can't get over the whole 'Christ not actually being crucified' part."

Mariam laughed. "Yeah, that's what puts the rift between our two religions, since there would be no Christianity without the cross."

"You know, if you had a son, would you name it Jesus?" My random question caught her off guard, and she laughed.

"What?" she then turned to me, and I smirked at her before she tore her gaze away. "No, I never thought of doing that."

"Well you should, it'd be hilarious," I laughed.

"You thought Denise vomiting would be hilarious," Mariam reminded me, and I laughed some more.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that, what a shame that didn't happen," I pretended to sound disappointed.

Mariam just cocked an eyebrow at me, giving me a, "Are you mentally stable?" look.

"Anyway, I did what you requested," I said, gaining her curiosity.

"And what was that?"

"I gave to charity. Remember, that was what you wanted for your birthday?" I smiled at her expression. She looked gobsmacked.

"Really? You did that?"

I nodded with a smug smile. "Yep. Gave $200 to the local mosque, plus," and Mariam's eyes practically bugged out when I announced that, "I gave some of my old belongings to the Red Cross, since I outgrew most of them anyway, and I don't need them anymore."

"Wow, how selfless of you," Mariam grinned. "I must be rubbing off on you, Damian."

"Perhaps also in the literal sense," I chuckled as the bus turned a corner and I was thrown sideways, almost squishing Mariam if I hadn't gripped the back of the seat in front of us in order to stabilise myself.

"Ugh, I hate buses," Mariam complained as we were back on the straight road.

"Only around four months left of riding them to school," I sighed with an air of nostalgia. It felt scary to think that we only had a semester left, and then we were gone. Forever.

"Four months too long," Mariam muttered, leaning against the window ledge and leaving a good few centimetres between us. If this was last year, or even the beginning of this year, and she was any other girl, I would've been shifting closer and charming her with my close proximity, but I was not the same Damian who flirted shamelessly with every girl he met and partied until there was no tomorrow. I was no longer a cliché hot guy in a movie who always dated the hot chicks and got what he wanted. I was the hot guy who converted to Islam, giving up my ways for a not-so-hot chick. But who said chicks with full clothes on weren't hot?

***

Mariam's POV

"You two are the cutest couple ever!" Yasmine squealed, and once again I had to shush her because people were shooting us looks from neighbouring tables. We were in the canteen because it was pouring out there, and Yasmine couldn't stop fangirling about Denise and Theo.

"We are, aren't we?" Theo slung an arm around Denise, pulling her close, and Denise squirmed away.

"What did I tell you about doing that in public?" Denise whisper-scolded, and Theo leaned in so that their noses were inches apart, saying, "Come on, Denise, how can we be cutest couple if you don't even want to publicly acknowledge it yet?"

"Can't we be cutest private couple?" Denise pleaded, batting her eyelashes at Theo.

Theo smirked. "Whatever makes you happy, my dear."

Denise rolled her eyes at him as he took a large bite of his sandwich, begging her for a kiss with his mouth full. Denise had to fight her giggles as she fought Theo away, going as far as throwing her mandarin peels in his face to fend him off.

Yasmine watched them with a sigh. "So cute," she gushed.

There wasn't anything cute about the mushed up food Theo was revealing in his mouth, but to each their own, I guess.

"Thanks guys, you're actually helping us fast," Damian said sarcastically.

"How?" Theo asked with a mouthful of bread and chicken schnitzel.

"By being disgusting," Damian answered simply.

"Hey, that's all Theo," Denise protested.

"Control your man, Denise," I laughed as Theo let out a gruff bark.

"I can't believe I'm dating you," Denise wrinkled her nose as she wiped Theo's mouth with a napkin. Theo beamed at her and mumbled, "Thanks honeybun."

"Well, I guess opposites do attract," Yasmine commented. She then slid her gaze to me and winked. "Right, Mariam?"

"Not you too," I groaned, covering my face and leaning on the table with my elbows. Why was everyone trying to remind me of that? It was getting annoying! "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Damian agreed, and I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. As usual, he had a grin on his face.

"What are you smiling about?" I asked suspiciously.

"Is it a crime to smile now, Mariam?" Damian asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Only when you do it," I retorted, and a chorus of 'oohs' rounded the table, and Damian clutched his heart as if he had been stabbed.

"Ouch, Mariam, that really stung," Damian pouted.

"Oh stop being such a big baby," I rolled my eyes, resting my chin on my forearms which were folded on the table. I was so hungry, and thirsty, and tired...

"It seems you give the best comebacks during Ramadan," Yasmine remarked.

"Nah, that's just all year," Damian said, shooting me a smile. "I remember one of my favourites –"

"Oh, please don't," I buried my face in my hands as Damian recalled one I had said to him on the first day of Year 12.

"You call that admiring? I call that eye rape." Damian, Theo, Denise and Yasmine all burst out laughing at that while I just groaned, wondering why in the world I had said that, and why Damian still remembered it.

"She's a sassy one, isn't she?" Theo said with a cheeky smile thrown at me.

"It's her charm," Denise added, winking at me. "She'll bite back remarks faster than a ticker timer."

"What's that?" Theo asked.

"Physics," Denise answered, patting his shoulder. "Don't you worry your pretty little mind about it."

Theo grinned goofily. "You think my mind is pretty?"

"I think the key word was 'little'," I said, and my friends all laughed.

"You're good," Damian nodded in approval at me, eyes sparkling with mirth. "How do you do it?"

"It's a gift from God," I replied jokingly with a shrug.

"I believe we all have our own 'gifts from God,'" Yasmine spoke up. "Such as Denise's flaming locks."

"Like the song, Jolene," Damian commented. "With flaming locks of auburn hair."

"Yeah, I love that song," Denise smiled. "Thanks, Yaz. Now I feel better about having red hair."

"What's wrong with your hair? I love it," Theo thread his fingers through her silky ginger waves, which she had grown out past her shoulders now since her haircut, and Denise beamed at him, not even bothering to bat him away out of embarrassment.

"What's my God-given gift, Yaz?" Damian asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

Yasmine scrutinized him for a moment before saying, "Your personality."

Damian scoffed. "Yeah, right, Yaz, I doubt it," he muttered. "I bet you wanted to say my good looks, didn't you, Yaz?" Damian forked his fingers through his hair and wiggled an eyebrow as he tried to look like some sort of model.

"Nah, I just don't see it," Yaz shook her head, squinting her eyes. Theo, Denise and I laughed as Damian pulled more poses, asking each time, "How about now?"

"You should ask Mariam what she thinks," Theo suggested, and I shot a look at him as Damian turned to me dramatically with a smouldering gaze and said, "Well?"

"Sorry, mate, better luck next year," I waved my hand dismissively as if I was Simon Cowell at the judges panel, and Damian pouted.

"Aw, there goes my life-long dream," he pretended to sound heartbroken while the rest of us laughed. I pressed a cold hand to my cheek, wondering when the room had started to heat up. Oh, wait, that was just me.

"And me? What is my gift?" Theo asked, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper and flexing. He continued to flex as we all thought about what made Theo special. It didn't take us long.

"Being a complete idiot," Denise teased, slugging him in the shoulder and putting an end to his horrendous flexing.

"If I'm an idiot, then you're the idiot's girlfriend," Theo taunted.

"Damnit, you're right," Denise tapped a finger to her lip, frowning.

"You hear that? I'm right. Me – the idiot – is right," Theo thumped his chest proudly.

We all just shook our heads in amusement at how grammatically incorrect Theo's last sentence was. But then again, all his sentences were, and yet we still continued to publicly associate with him. The things we did for friends...

***

Ramadan ended during the holidays, and as much as I loved fasting, (note the sarcasm), I was glad it was over, because then it was Eid and no one was happier on an Eid morning than me!

Except Zeinab, of course. She was an excited squealing hot mess, until she cleaned herself up and wore the new clothes Immi bought us. I wore a silver pink hijab with a long magenta skirt separated with a belt from my black sequinned top. ⬇

Zeinab wore a deep blue skirt with a white ribbon around the waist and a pink top and an amber-pink hijab.

Immi couldn't stop gushing about how beautiful we looked, until Nasr interjected, "What about me? Don't I look beautiful too?" No one had said anything to that.

Nasr took his own car separate to Baba's car so that he could pick up Damian from his house, and after a moment's consideration, I decided to join him.

"Eager to see Damian, are we?" Nasr smirked as he swerved out of our street and onto the main road, checking the mirror fleetingly. We had left before Baba, Immi and Zeinab, since it took a while for Baba's car to warm up.

"Uh, no, I just wanted to spend some quality time with my big bro," I fixed a cheesy grin on my face and tried to sound convincing. Nasr just rolled his eyes.

"We both know that's not true, Mims," Nasr said amusingly.

"Oh, come on, Nasr," I moaned, leaning my elbow on the window ledge and gazing out at the passing houses. "I thought we were getting along fine!"

"It's not called getting along, Mims, it's called tolerating," Nasr proclaimed. "I've been doing that for the last eighteen years."

"Aw, and here I thought you loved me," I pouted my lips, pretending to sulk.

"I do, but I love my car more," Nasr shot back cheekily, and I pinched his thigh, laughing when he jerked his leg, swerving slightly to the right but regaining control.

"Mariam, don't do that! You could've got us killed!" Nasr's eyes were wide and in addition to his spiked up hair, he looked like he had been electrified. I just kept laughing, enjoying the feeling of Eid.

"Relax, bro, nothing happened, alhamdulillah," I said through my giggles.

"I'm starting to regret taking you along for the ride," Nasr muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly and dodging my hand that threatened to pinch him again, but I never followed through with the act, because it was funnier to see him agitated.

"Hey, I'm the life of this sad party," I said cheerily. "Without me, you'd be all alone in this smelly car."

"It's only smelly when you're in here," Nasr taunted as he winded down the windows, blasting in icy winter air.

I ignored his insult and stuck my head in the cold breeze, waiting for the sun to break through the clouds. It was early in the morning, and yet I felt more awake than ever. I mumbled the takbir under my breath through the rest of the drive while Nasr played Sami Yusuf's Eid song on the speakers.

I had never seen Damian's house before. It was a double storey beige brick house, with a balcony and a short driveway and a small garden. Not too bad, I thought as I took it in. Nasr beeped his horn, and a few seconds later the front door opened, revealing Damian in all his glory. Well, not really, but I noticed my breath hitched in my throat at the sight of him, and Nasr chuckled.

Damian grinned at us as he approached, wearing maroon slacks and a navy blue sweater. His hair was brushed and swept across his scalp neatly, and I noticed how...well, I noticed a lot, that's all I could say. Through the half-cracked open window I watched him, until he caught my eyes and said, "Eid Mubarak, Mariam."

I just nodded, momentarily forgetting my words until Nasr nudged me, and I smiled and returned the greeting while Damian got into the backseat.

"Looking fresh, man," Damian shot a finger at Nasr, and Nasr sent him a grin in the rear-view.

"Thanks, Damian, you too. And Happy Eid," Nasr said as he spun the car around.

"What's that, on the radio?" Damian asked, referring to the nasheed that was playing.

"Oh, it's a nasheed," I answered. "It's basically Islamic music."

"I thought you weren't allowed to listen to music?" Damian inquired.

"Well, technically no, but a lot of people still do listen to music, like Nasr here," I replied, looking pointedly at my big bro, who was focused on the road. Damian lived in a really nice neighbourhood, with pristine lawns and clean nature strips.