She Wore Red Trainers (16 page)

Yusuf nudged me and winked. ‘Told you it was a halal love story. So, has he managed to convince you yet?'

I smiled and said nothing but, inside, I was trembling. The relationship Dav described struck me as so beautiful, so perfect, that I couldn't speak.

Of course, it is obvious who I was thinking about. Our chance encounter in the rain a few days before had only made it even harder to forget about her. I still wasn't sure that I should have thrown in those compliments at the end, but I couldn't help myself. I just hoped she didn't think I was a total loser after that. But as I thought of Dav and his ‘halal
love story', I smiled to myself. Maybe getting married young wasn't such a bad idea, after all. Especially to the right girl.

***

When we got back to the cafe Yusuf remembered the donation that the Deen Riders had to send to Sister Azra for her fundraiser. The sun was going down and, in a few moments, it would be time to pray. Already, some of the brothers were freshening up in the cafe toilets, making
wudu
.

‘Listen, Yusuf,' I said, ‘let me take the donation to the hall tomorrow. It's really close to where I live and I don't mind at all.'

‘Really, bro? That would be such a help.
Jazakallah khayran
.'

‘No problem,' I shrugged. ‘I owe you one anyway.'

Yusuf reached into his backpack and pulled out an envelope. ‘Please make sure it gets to Sister Azra safely, yeah? And do you think you could do me a personal favour? I wanted to get some flowers for Yasmin – my sister – just to say “well done”. Do you think you could get some for me from the florist in Herne Hill? I know it's lame to not get them myself and everything but…'

I smiled. ‘No problem at all, bro. I'll do that for you. Your sister is lucky to have a big brother like you.'

He smiled, ‘I'm the lucky one, alhamdulillah. And she's going to make some brother very happy one day.'

‘I've no doubt about that,' I nodded, thinking how different Yusuf and Zayd were about their sisters: one wouldn't even mention his, the other talked about his all the time!

Then Yusuf stopped smiling and looked at me intently. ‘Well, maybe you should give it some thought, bro. I like you, y'know? You're a good brother. You just let me know if you'd like me to help set up a meeting or something.'

I laughed, taken aback by his candour. But I didn't want to offend him. ‘Yeah, sure, bro,
Jazakallah khayran
.'

After the Maghrib
salah
, which we prayed on the tarmac, I caught Yusuf looking at me again, a thoughtful look on his face. I frowned and thought maybe I shouldn't have spoken so freely about his sister like that.

I quickly gave
salam
and hopped onto the back of Dav's bike. And though I was still high on the adrenaline of the day's events, I couldn't help the feeling that kept nagging at me, that I had put a foot wrong somehow.

29

My bags were packed with the stuff we were going to need for the show. Now I had to get myself ready.

Just as I slipped the silver baby-doll dress over my head, I heard a knock at the door.

‘Ams, can I come in?' It was Mum.

She stepped into my bedroom and I swear it felt so strange to see her there. She smiled when she saw me standing in front of the mirror, a smile that was in a weird way both shy and proud. But I could see that today was one of her good days and I was glad.

‘I thought you might like some help with your hair,' she said, holding up a set of ceramic straighteners. I smiled back at her, relieved. She remembered. She remembered that I was rubbish at straightening my own hair.

‘Looks like it's going to be quite a night for you girls, eh?' Mum said, as she clamped a section of my hair between the heated pads and began to pull it gently away from my head.

I nodded. ‘Yeah, Auntie Azra said the tickets are pretty much sold out.' I half turned to face her, flinching as I felt the heat of the straighteners come dangerously close to my ear. ‘Why don't you come, Mum?'

Mum looked away, a frown on her face. ‘Well, you know
me and Auntie Azra aren't that close anymore… And these events are not really my thing.'

I didn't say anything. It still upset me that Mum had let Abu Malik come between her and her oldest friend.

Mum finished doing my hair and I was soon swinging it around like a Pantene model on steroids. My dress fit me just as it should and, after I had slipped on a stack of silver bangles and some drop earrings, and put on my strappy silver sandals, I looked at myself in the mirror, grinning. This was a different Amirah: a gorgeous being who held nothing but love, hope and
iman
in her heart; owner of a glowing future; heiress to success and happiness. A
princess
.

Taymeeyah squealed in delight when she saw me coming down the stairs, all dressed up, with Mum behind me.

‘You look just like a pwincess, doesn't she, Ummi?' she lisped, pouting so that I could put some strawberry lip gloss on her rosebud lips.

Mum smiled and nodded. ‘Mashallah, your sister does look lovely.'

‘Beautiful!' signed Abdullah, a big, fat grin on his face. Malik looked up from the computer screen, flashed me his missing teeth and turned back to his latest online game craze.

‘Thanks, guys,' I smiled. ‘You know who got the good genes now, don't you!' We laughed together and I went to get my new
abaya
and scarf from the peg by the door.

Just then, Zayd stepped out of his room behind the stairs. The look on his face when he saw me going towards the door, hijabless and dressed to the nines, was priceless.

‘What's going on here, then?' he asked, looking from me to Mum, to Abdullah and to little Taymeeyah, who was still staring at my dress.

‘Amirah's going to a big, fancy party, Ibi,' she chirped. ‘And it's not even Eid!' She laughed at her own joke and danced off to the kitchen with Mum, no doubt to fix yet another bowl of her favourite cereal.

A look of comprehension lit up Zayd's face and he smiled and nodded. ‘Ahhh, this is that Muslim Princess thing you told me about, yeah? Safe…' Then he frowned and put his hands on his hips. ‘Oi, you sure there aren't going to be any guys at this party?' I could tell that he was only half joking.

‘Oh, no, Zayd, Auntie Azra thought that, now that we've finished school, we can start having some
real
fun. I think Rania mentioned something about Chippendales…'

He grinned sheepishly. ‘All right, all right, no need to get sarcastic on me, yeah? I was just checking, doing my duty and all that.'

‘Yeah, I know, bruv, but sometimes there's, like, no need? I don't need you to be my in-house Haram Police, yeah? I got this. You know, at some point, you are actually going to have to trust me and let go.'

I saw his face go all funny then. I should have ignored it. I should have walked away, towards the door, put my
abaya
on and gone out of the door. Instead, I looked into his eyes, the way I always did when I wanted to probe him. He took the bait.

‘I know that, sis,' he said, all quiet and serious. ‘It's just that sometimes… sometimes I worry that you'll slip again, y'know?'

I shook my head. ‘Zee, that was, like, a lifetime ago. You're still stressing about that? I thought we had moved past it.'

He frowned. ‘We can never be too sure of ourselves, sis,
you know that. The believer is always vigilant coz
shaytan
is always ready to trip us up. And… when I see you like this, all dressed up, doing your thing, it reminds me of how easy it is to get fooled by the
dunyah,
this world, and fall into old habits…'

I groaned inwardly.
Astaghfirullah
, but I really wasn't in the mood for one of Zayd's
khutbah
s, not tonight when all I wanted to do was have a little fun with my friends – halal fun, at that! I looked down at my phone. I was running late!

‘OK, I'm out of here before the Haram Police arrive with an arrest warrant!' I laughed, skipping to get my
abaya
and hijab before he could quote me a particularly apt fatwa.

30

When I stepped into the hall where the Urban Muslim Princess show was to take place, my heart skipped a beat. It was like a dream, a dream I had had since I was a little girl. You know those proms you see in American movies – all mood lighting, ball gowns and glittering disco balls. This hall was like that – but better.

There was a red carpet down the centre of the hall. One of the younger girls was scattering white rose petals over it. The tables were covered with crisp white tablecloths and red sashes were tied on the backs of the chairs. Tea lights and flowers floated in glass bowls, twinkling, their reflections dancing in the water.

The ceiling above was covered in paper chains, paper flowers and balloons.

The air in the hall was scented with
bukhoor
and Maher Zain
nasheed
s played in the background. Until our shrieks and laughter drowned it out.

‘
As-salamu ‘alaykum
, babes, you look gorgeous!'

‘OMG, can you believe this?'

‘Mashallah, this is amazing!'

‘Seriously, Rania, may Allah reward your mum for her awesomeness!'

I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of Auntie Azra in an elegant black
abaya
with fluttering sleeves. She was in ‘Event Manager' mode now, I could see: her phone was jammed against her ear and she was telling Maryam and her friends where to put the goodie bags. Then she looked over at us.

‘Oh, Amirah, there you are! You've still got your hijab on. Please, honey, could you go out and get some more donations that have come in? The brother from Deen Riders is waiting outside and I've got too much going on here…'

‘Sure, Auntie,' I called out. I made my way to the back of the hall, where the double doors were. Kicking aside a balloon, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the corridor.

At the other end of the corridor, by the entrance, a brother in a leather jacket was standing with his back to me. He held a motorcycle helmet under one arm and an absolutely beautiful bouquet of flowers under the other.

‘
As-salamu ‘alaykum
?' I called out, my voice echoing in the empty space.

The brother turned around.

It was
him
.

My heart literally stopped, I was so surprised to see him. What was he doing here, looking so delicious, tonight of all nights?

His face lit up in that cute way of his and he smiled when he gave
salam
, shy but a bit more confident than before. ‘Hey,
wa'alaykum as-salam
, Amirah. How are you?'

I smiled too. I just couldn't help myself. ‘Yeah, I'm good. What's going on?'

He seemed to remember what he was there to do and held out the flowers.

I gave him a questioning look. ‘What am I supposed to
do with these?'

‘Umm, they're for you…' he stammered, rubbing his hands on his jeans. ‘For you… you sisters…'

I smiled to myself as I screamed inwardly. I wasn't falling for that! This was some serious halal chirpsing going on. Flowers! Swoon. I mean, really. Totally dead.

‘
Jazakallah khayran
, I'm sure
the sisters
will think they're beautiful…'

He was really embarrassed now, I could tell.

‘Well, I hope tonight goes well for all of you…' Then he reached into his back pocket. ‘Here's the donation from the Deen Riders charity rally. The brother in charge, Yusuf, apologised that he couldn't bring it himself…'

Oh, that's quite all right
, I thought to myself. To him I said, ‘Please thank the brother for us. May Allah reward all of you.'

Just then, I heard Rania's voice behind me. ‘Amirah, come on!'

‘I've got to go,' I said, not wanting to tear myself away but knowing that I had to. ‘See you around…'

Another smile, a
salam
, a wave and he was gone and I was running back towards the double doors, my heart racing, almost tripping over my
abaya
, the flowers heavy and wonderful in my arms.

Rania was at the door and she took one look at the flowers and then at my face and squealed and hugged me. ‘Ohhhh, I can't believe this is happening!'

Neither could I. But there was no time for believing or thinking or talking. We had a show to put on. And, as sisters began to come in through the double doors, holding their goodie bags, their eyes bright as they looked around the
beautiful hall, I felt like I was covered in diamond sparkles from head to toe.

The sparkles shone as I changed out of my
abaya
. They lit up my face as I did my make-up for the show. They danced and shimmered as I strutted down the catwalk.

I wasn't awkward, sarcastic Amirah Wyatt from Seville Close.

I was Princess Amirah, beautiful, kind and generous, sharing my sparkles with everyone in the crowd. When I got to the end of the runway wearing my last outfit, I turned and blew the diamond sparkles to everyone in the crowd. The sisters cheered and drummed the tables as I sashayed off the stage, triumphant at last. Rania had tears in her eyes as she hugged me.

‘You were amazing out there, girl,' she sniffed. ‘Making me tear up here and everything…'

Alhamdulillah
, I thought while I got changed in the dressing room.
Alhamdulillah
. I looked at myself in the mirror and for once,
for once
, I actually liked what I saw.

Definitely a gold star night.

Definitely.

***

I was still floating when I joined the others at our table for the three course dinner. There they were, my girls - Samia and Yasmin and, of course, Rania. And other girls were there, too, girls we knew from school, from the
masjid
: Asiyah and Rabia, Tasnim, Fatima and Hadiyah – we had laughed together, cried together, prayed together and played together;
we were like a family.