The Garden of My Imaan (4 page)

Stinky Lunch

I
didn’t have long to rejoice. The very next morning, just as our bus pulled up to the school, I saw Juliana getting out of her father’s sports car.

“Winnie, look!” I cried. “She’s back!”

Winnie leaned across me to peer out the bus window. “Yup. You’re right.”

“But you said she was moving away! Were you making it up?”

“I wasn’t. Honest. I guess she isn’t moving after all,” Winnie said. Once we were inside the school, we hurried toward our hall. Juliana was standing in front of her locker.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer. I simply had to know. Perhaps she was leaving at the
end
of the week?

“Oh, h..hi, Juliana.” I tried to make my voice sound casual. “Winnie said she heard you were moving.”

“Don’t you wish!”

I emptied my backpack into my locker, just four doors down. “She heard you were switching to Sky Vale.”

“To where?”

“Sky Vale,” I repeated. “A private school?”

Juliana rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where Winnie gets her information. I’m not going to Sky Vale or any other private school. I wish I were, though.” Juliana banged the locker door shut and walked away.

“Why don’t you go then, if you feel that way?” I muttered under my breath.

I marched into homeroom and jabbed Winnie on the shoulder. “How could you get it so wrong?” I cried. “You said Juliana was going to Sky Vale!”

“Oops!
Perdóneme
. I guess I made a mistake,” Winnie replied. “Maybe she’s going skiing in Vail.”

“You got me all excited for nothing,” I groaned. “You should have made sure first.”

“So she’s staying. What’s the big deal?” Winnie started coloring the maps for our project.

“It’s a big deal to me. She hates me. You know that!”

“I don’t actually know that, Aliya,” Winnie said. “You’ve got to stop being so sensitive.”

I tried to sneak past Marwa’s table at lunch, but she saw me. Her hand brushed my shirt sleeve. “Hello,” she said.

Her lunch box was half open. Inside, I could see the Syrian bread packed with feta, lettuce, and olives. The cheese smelled really strong, like Heba’s lunch at the Islamic Center.

I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Um … how’s it going?” I asked.

“It’s going okay.”

Some kids sitting nearby held their noses and pointed at Marwa’s lunch. She didn’t seem to notice.

“You dropped some.” I pointed to a white glob by her feet.

“Sorry,” she said, scooping it up with her napkin.

“They’re serving chicken nuggets today,” I said. “You should try them sometime.”

“I can’t. They’re not
halal
.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t mind not eating halal?” She looked at my tray.

“It’s okay with my family.” I felt a little squirmy, like I’d been caught doing something illegal.

“We’re pretty strict in our house,” Marwa told me. “I could order on macaroni and cheese days, though. They have that here, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Or I could get PBJ or a salad or a baked potato. But this is my favorite lunch. Want to try some?” She scooted her chair over so I could sit next to her.

Winnie was saving me a seat, but I
had
promised Mrs. Holmes I’d be nice to Marwa. I sat down. “Doesn’t the smell bother you?”

“It’s just cheese,” Marwa said, but she closed the lid of her lunch box.

A long stretch of silence followed. I moved the chicken around my plate with my fork, wishing I could join Winnie and the others. When Maggie and Sarah walked by, it was a perfect opportunity for a getaway. I called out to them, “Hey, you guys. Want to sit here with Marwa?”

“Sure,” Maggie said, and I leapt up.

“You don’t have to go,” Marwa said. “There’s plenty of room for all of us here.”

“It’s okay,” I mumbled as I picked up my tray. “I’ll see you later.” I walked away quickly without feeling too bad. At least she had company.

“What were you two talking about?” Winnie asked when I sat down.

“Not much. We don’t have anything in common.”

“What’s she eating?” Leah waved her hand in front of her nose. “It’s stinking up the whole place.”

“It’s some Middle Eastern food,” I said.

Madison peeled the plastic wrap off her sandwich.

“Ham again?” I said. “You have that almost every day.”

“You should try it. It’s really yummy!”

“Marwa won’t eat chicken nuggets,” I said.

“Why not?” Leah asked.

“It’s not halal.”

“What’s halal?”

Now I sort of wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “It’s got to do with food rules for Muslims,” I explained. “You know— we’re not allowed to eat pig, for one thing. That’s why I don’t bring ham sandwiches.”

“We don’t eat pork either,” Leah offered. “And we keep kosher in our house.”

“That’s kind of like us,” I said. “At least some of it.”

“
Mmm-mmm
. Pig is
sooo
tasty!” Madison held up her sandwich. “We can eat just about anything.”

“I won’t eat sardines and asparagus and artichokes,” Winnie said. “But I love potato chips and I’d be so mad if someone told me I wasn’t allowed to eat them!”

Leah turned back to me. “You don’t eat ham, but you eat chicken nuggets. But Marwa doesn’t eat chicken nuggets. Does she eat pork?”

“I bet you anything she doesn’t,” Madison said.

“Well, who’s right here?” Leah asked. “Marwa or Aliya?”

I jabbed my fork into my chicken. It was cold and limp and I wasn’t hungry anymore.

Carly

A
t lunch the next day, Winnie, Madison, and Leah were in the middle of a deep conversation when I sat down to join them.

“‘This year’s party will blow your minds clear to the troposphere!’“ Madison said. “Those were her exact words.”

“Her parties are the best,” Leah added. “I can’t wait to go!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Are you going?” Madison slipped over to make room for me at the table.

“Going where?”

“To Carly’s birthday party.”

“She’s having a party?” I was completely surprised.

“Aren’t you going?” Leah asked.

“I didn’t even know about it,” I said.

“That’s weird,” Winnie said. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t invite you. She’s known you since third grade.”

No one said anything. But they were avoiding my eyes; they were probably feeling pretty bad for me. I bit down on
my lip so hard, I could taste blood. Winnie was the first one to break the silence.

“I know what happened,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Remember that day when you left early?”

I did remember. Mom had picked me up for a dentist’s appointment.

“Well, Carly passed out the invitations later that afternoon. And you,
senorita
,” Winnie went on, “you were
not
there and then she got sick. See?”

“But nobody told me about it? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I guess we thought you already knew,” Leah said.

“Yeah, we sort of forgot about the dentist,” Madison mumbled.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Winnie said, taking a sip of her milk. “You
are
invited. Trust me.”

Winnie always made me feel better. Carly had just forgotten to give me my invitation. I calculated quickly in my head. The birthday party was on a Ramadan Saturday but that didn’t matter. I’d skip the fast that day. Ramadan had thirty days of fasting; one less probably wouldn’t matter too much.

In social studies, Mrs. Doyle assigned us our independent study project. The theme for this year was “Respecting Ourselves and Others.”

“Uh-oh! More rainbows and mixed salads!” Winnie groaned.

“Huh?” I said.

“Don’t you remember? The usual lecture how we all have our special qualities and differences … blah, blah, blah.”

I nodded. We’d had assemblies about this kind of thing. We’d made flags from fifteen different countries last year, and they were still hanging in the cafeteria. And we’d even had an International Food Fair; everyone had had the chance to taste Amma’s samosas and Winnie’s
kimchee
and all sorts of other foods.

“We live in an increasingly multicultural society and it is important to be sensitive and respectful about our differences,” Mrs. Doyle concluded.

Winnie gave me her I-told-you-so look.

I was walking back from the girls’ room when I saw Marwa.

“Assalam alaikum!” she called.

“Oh, hi, Marwa,” I muttered. “It’s okay to say hello here at school.”

“I waited for you at lunch today and yesterday and the day before.” She fell into step beside me.

I shrugged. The smile on her face flattened a little.

“I can’t talk right now,” I said. I had already missed some of the math lesson.

“It’ll only take a second. I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my house,” Marwa said.

I did a double take.

“To … to your house?”

“Yes. To visit and maybe have dinner?”

“Who else is invited?” I asked.

“No one … yet,” she said.

“What about Sarah and Maggie?”

“I’m asking you. My mom wants you to come. Will you?”

I scrambled for an escape route. “It depends,” I said. “When exactly do you want me to come?”

“Anytime, really.”

“I’m sort of busy for the next two weeks,” I said.

“How about we have
iftar
together on the first Saturday of Ramadan?” she proposed.

I shook my head again. “I can’t.” That day was clearly out.

“You can’t?”

“It’s Carly’s birthday,” I explained. “She’s having a party.”

“Oh. That’s okay,” Marwa said. “I just thought I’d ask.”

I hurried back to my room. While the teacher wrote our assignment on the board, I told Winnie about my conversation with Marwa. “I can’t believe she asked me to come over. She’s only been here one week. She doesn’t even know me that well.”

“That’s because you haven’t been spending a lot of time with her,” Winnie said.

“And when am I supposed to do that? It’s not like we’re in the same classes.”

“But still, it was nice of her to ask you. Maybe you should have accepted.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “You seem to be forgetting Carly’s party.”

“Oh yeah, the party,” Winnie said. “Right!”

I was already planning what I was going to wear and I had a pretty good idea about the gift I wanted to get. I’d probably have to do a little arm twisting at home; it would cost more money than Mom would want me to spend.