Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 24

^Really inspiring speech by one of my favourite Islamic Lecturers, Nouman Ali Khan.

Sorry for the wait, school started so expect updates to be further apart (we're talking every three days to weekly, depending on how much homework I have). Hopefully this chapter will satisfy your CTBB thirst 😉

Dedicated to ilovuAllah for being such a sweetie pie and making me smile with her comments! Love you girl 😍

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Damian didn't try to return the booklet Yasmine gave him the next day at school. I took that as a somewhat good sign. Unless he had forgotten about it...but every time I had the misfortune of locking eyes with Damian, I could see that he hadn't forgotten, nor had he given any hint that he had remembered either. I wondered if he had attempted to read it, and I wondered what he thought if he did. But Allah didn't make us mind readers for a reason, and communication was the key to our existence - responsible for both the good and bad parts.

"Let him come to us," Yasmine said on Wednesday at the lockers. Damian wasn't at the lockers that often, not that I knew his whereabouts every hour of the day like some girls in our year level did. Ever since Samantha confessed to me her feelings for Damian, I'd been noticing her with him a lot more. The times I would sit with Theo, Denise and Yasmine in our usual spot on the grass across from the fence where Damian and his gang hung out, I'd see Samantha talking avidly with Damian, singling him out while the rest of their group clustered off. Aidan was dating Annabelle, who was a petite blonde with a musical laugh, and though it wasn't my business, I'd check Yasmine's reaction and she didn't seem fazed about it at all. In fact, I was more interested about them than Yasmine was, and I wasn't interested at all.

I found myself looking toward the popular gang more than I should've, for my friends would have to wave a hand in front of my face to snap me back to focus. Each time Denise would peer into my eyes with a slight frown, as if she were concerned for me, when I should've been concerned for myself. My eyes were straying to places I didn't belong, to people on a whole different level to me. It was times like those when I felt so isolated as a Muslim in a non-Muslim country. Yeah, I had Yasmine, and my sister by my side, but being around all these people who went about their lives so blindly and carelessly made me yearn to live in an Islamic country where we'd have Fridays off for Jummah and you wouldn't have to worry about food being halal and you could fast in Ramadan without the temptation of food. Now that was the ideal life for me in this world.

Zeinab's volunteering shift went so badly that she decided to withdraw from it. Apparently she had delivered wholemeal bread to a gluten free patient by accident and she had spilled a water jug in the kitchen, so she decided that perhaps it was best she stayed at home. Baba and Mama tried to convince her to continue, but Zeinab was so embarrassed by her mistakes she couldn't bear going back there again. Zeinab liked to make good first impressions, however if she failed she found it hard to face the same people afterward. I used to be like that, until I realized that not many people remembered first impressions, and that some of us were just that forgettable.

Zaid and I ended up working on different floors of Building A for this Wednesday's shift. I served meals to patients younger than Zeinab, and most of them had parents with them when I knocked on the door. There were a couple of Muslims who greeted me with the universal peace greeting of Salamu Alaykum, which I returned, always happy to see other Muslims, even if they were in an unfortunate place like the hospital.

By the time my break rolled around I was extremely hungry. Serving food was torture for my empty stomach, and this time Mama packed me some fried rice with cinnamon chicken, pine nuts and almonds. It was a traditional Lebanese dish and it was probably one of my favourites. She'd even packed me some tabouli in a separate container, and I heated up the rice in the microwave of the tearoom on the floor I was working on, my mouth watering as I watched it spin inside the radiation chamber. Once it was warm enough, I took it outside and headed to the elevators so I could eat in the food court. I found Zaid at the café, buying himself a vegetarian focaccia.