It’s the newest model. I stare at it, confused. “Why?”
“Chemistry homework,” he replies. “It would be great to reach you instantly, if that’s okay.”
I clear my throat, nodding, and take the phone from him. He makes sure not to brush my fingers with his, and I pause. I’ve never known a non-Muslim person who did that.
I type in my number and give it back. He lets it ring once.
“There,” he says. “Now you have mine.”
I take out my phone and see the missed call. My chest constricts in a strange way. It’s not unwelcome. Just… different. “There. I have it.”
He starts packing his bag, and I watch him for a few seconds before remembering Alexis. But when I look to where she was sitting with her friends, she isn’t there. There’s only me and Jamie in this classroom.
“You coming?” he asks when he notices me still in my seat.
“Yeah,” I say.
I’m by my locker, getting my books, when I hear a tired voice say, “There you are.”
I look up to see a round-faced girl, her hair in a dark ponytail, staring at me with blazing eyes. There’s a smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose where a pair of huge rectangle glasses is perched. “Hello?”
“Jihad, right?” she says, and before I can reply, she continues, “I’m Audrey, the school’s magazine editor. I’ve been emailing you for the last three weeks. Do you not check your student email?”
“I—what?”
She sighs.
“Sorry, we have a student email?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Didn’t you get it in a letter or something?”
I shrug. I had only the acceptance letter, and there was no email mentioned. Maybe Baba forgot to give me a letter they mailed and it’s lying somewhere in the apartment.
She draws in a long breath. “I emailed you to ask if you’d be interested in a short interview for the school’s magazine. We rarely get new students, and it would be a nice way for the school to get to know you.”
Tension coils like a snake in my stomach. “I—I’m good, thank you.”
She frowns, mouth drawn tight. “Why not?”
I shake my head. “I just don’t want to.”
She purses her lips. “I understand it’s weird being the new girl at school, but this is not an in-depth op-ed. It’s just the footnotes of your life. Where were you born? What are you excited for the most for senior year? Hobbies? Favorite food? Just harmless stuff.”
I fiddle with the locker. Before Mama died, I’d have said yes, even though I’m not that sociable. But now, I can’t give myself so openly to random strangers who’ll read about me. I’ve moved into a conch, the tight shell surrounding me, and I want to be oblivious to this entire world. I don’t want to make ripples or waves or exist more than I should. I told Amal I would keep my head down.
“I’m good,” I repeat.
Disappointment mars her expression. “Fine. Thought I’d ask.”
She waves a goodbye before leaving, and guilt crawls in my stomach.
Me:hey I didn’t see you when you left
Me:everything ok?
Me:like after what happened during lunch
I’m lying on my bed, my hair wrapped around me like a cocoon while I stare at the messages I sent to Alexis.
