He spoke in a rush. “Okay, so, my mom was dropping me off at school one day and she saw you on campus and she wanted me to talk to you.”
“Why?” I was suddenly wishing I’d never gone out for lunch. I was suddenly wishing I’d told Noah not to sit next to me.
He sighed. “Because we’re new here, and my parents have been looking for a mosque to go to, and my mom thought you’d—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand, cut him off. “You’re Muslim?”
He frowned. “Did I not mention that?”
I hit him with my newspaper. “What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m sorry!” He jerked out of reach. “I’m sorry. My mom just saw a girl in hijab and sent me on a mission to talk to you like it was normal, and it’s not normal. It’s super awkward.”
I shot him a look. “More awkward thanthis?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” But his attempt at penitence was belied by his smile. “So? Can you help me out?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Cool.”
“But I swear to God,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him, “if you turn out to be an undercover FBI agent I will be so pissed.”
“What?” His smile vanished. “FBI agent?”
My guilt was instantaneous.
Noah looked suddenly freaked out, so different from hislighthearted mien a moment ago, and I didn’t like that I’d put that look on his face. His family had just moved here; I didn’t want to scare him.
“Nothing.” I forced a smile. “I was just giving you a hard time.”
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.” But the wariness in his eyes said he wasn’t sure if he believed me.
I tried to move past it.
“So, there are a couple of different mosques around here,” I explained, “but the one my family goes to has a predominantly Persian congregation. I can give you other—”
“Oh, no, that’s perfect.” Noah’s smile returned in full force. “My mom will love that. I’m half-Persian.”
I went suddenly stupid. I stared at him, slack-jawed. “What?”
He was laughing again. “Damn, the look on your face right now. I wish you could see yourself.”
“You’re half-Persian?”
“I speak a little Farsi, too.” He cleared his throat, made a big show. “Haleh shoma chetoreh?”
“That’s not terrible,” I said, trying not to laugh. “So—your mom is Persian?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s so cool. That makes me so happy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why happy?”
“I don’t know.” I hesitated. “I guess I thought most Persian people were racist.”
Noah froze, his eyes widening. Then he laughed so hard he doubled over. He laughed so hard it attracted notice, passersby pausing to stare at the source of the unbridled sound.
