Void - Finding Islam (EDITING)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

My parents transferred to Islam when I was 3.

Omar was born 2 years later and so was given an islamic name. Both my parents changed their middle names to islamic ones. They, however, never changed mine. Jennifer doesn't really give away anything. Gradually, 'Jen' became a nickname everyone addresses me by.

"Jenna!"

Omar, however, is the only one who can magically transform my name to paradise — Jenna, that is "heaven" in Arabic.

And it's not like I'd want to hear it from anyone else but him.

He screams in my ears again, "Jenna!", and I throw the pillow away from my face. Then, with one quick motion, I wrap my arms around his torso and hoist him up on my bed. He shrieks and rolls over to lay beside me.

I look at him, smirking. Our faces are inches apart and when he frowns at me, he looks too adorable that it takes all my self-control not to pinch his cheeks.

"Jen, I'm turning 13 in a few months. You don't just do that like I'm a baby anymore!" He pouted.

"Pouting, as far as I know, isn't mature, either." I tease. "Plus, you're my baby." I ruffle his blonde hair and he glares at me.

"That awkwardly sounded like you were flirting with me."

I raise my eyebrow, shocked that my brother had just said that. "Omar!"

His eyes widens and quickly avoids my glare.

I turn away to cover the smile playing on my lips. I notice Omar's backpack beside my desk. Through a gap in the zipper, I spot something that suspiciously looks like a can of Red Bull. Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I reach my hands in and grasp it. Pressing my lips together, I sigh.

"Omar, what is this?" I ask softly.

He gets up and looks over my shoulder to see the can of soda in my hands. I look up at him.

"Oh, that .." He mumbles, scratching his head.

"Omar," I begin. I bite my lip. "Omar, I told you before you're not fully recovered, at least—" 

"Alright, fine. Just chill out, okay?" My brother interrupts, suddenly annoyed. "I don't want it anymore, happy? You can have it." 

And with that, he slides off my bed, drags his backpack and leaves the room. 

I run a hand through my hair and pray to Allah to heal my brother and that someday he'll understand why I do this to him. 

***

"Fertilisers can be classified into two kinds; a single fertiliser, which consists of a single element —nitrogen— and a more common type which has all the 3 needed elements for plant growth, that is nitrogen, phosphorus and pottassium, thus arranged by their chemical symbols to form the label NPK which we use for these kinds of fertilisers." 

My cheek sagged as it slipped slowly off my palm, pushing my eyelids closer together as if encouraging me to sleep like how I oh so eagerly wanted to.

No. I can't sleep. I need to concentrate. 

I straightened up and jotted down whatever my mind had registered in the last few minutes of Chemistry class that was threatning to evaporate if I kept it any longer for my poorly functioning temporary memory to store. I turn my attention back to Mr.Benzbery. 

"Of coarse, these fertilisers do not produce themselves and, as far as we know, do not exist naturally on earth, either. Therefore we have to make them, manufacture them, to be accurate. We shall begin with the process of manufacturing Ammonia, as in The Haber Process—" 

And I blacked out. I watched as Mr.Benzbery's monotonous voice dissolved further into oblivion until all I can process is a pair of lips moving so quickly that I won't even be able to read them if I tried. 

I lay back and stare out of the window, instead. 

Outside in the school's back yard, a man with a head covered in white hair crops the trees. He's dressed in a dark blue vest like he's part of some sort of organisation. He'd been coming over to take care of the plants ever since I could remember every tuesday. I used to watch him when he came over. How he so carefully plucked excess leaves and branches off the trees, perfectly shaping them into a green statue. 

When he stepped back to admire his work, I caught a glimpse of his most recent masterpiece. It was a ... hand? 

I looked closer and yes, indeed, it was a hand! A hand with 4 fingers folded in and the forefinger pointing up, towards the sky, towards God. 

I felt the corners of my lips tugging up in a smile. I have no idea how he carved it, but it was beautiful. And I was too busy admiring it to ponder on how it was made.

For a fraction of a second, I could've sworn the elderly man had turned to my direction and returned my smile, as if he had been aware of me silently watching him all along. But then, he turned and, grabbing his scythe, he left. 

And I decided I was too tired and imagining things. 

A while later, my ears were kind enough to send my brain a message that, hello! The school bell had sounded and you probably needed to get up and leave before someone notices you'd fallen asleep in class. 

I reluctantly obeyed my brain's advice. 

Grabbing my bag and my Chemistry textbooks, I made my way out of the classroom.

***

"At least now, you've got yourself a real excuse to give to Trent." 

I scowled, falling into a seat across from him. I shrug off my backpack and place the stack of Chemistry books in my hands on the table. "I don't need to make up excuses for Trent." 

Adam nodded. "Right."

I raised an eyebrow. "Trent is a natural jerk." I snapped, then regretted it a moment later. I shouldn't have said that. 

Adam, however, seemed unfazed. "I know." 

"What? Isn't he supposed to be your friend or something?" 

"Yeah, he's my friend. And he knows I think he's a jerk because I've told him. He doesn't mind." 

I scoffed. 

Yesterday, our class was a assigned a project for each couple. Each one had to choose a subject. Adam and I were paired together. We chose Chemistry.

"Have you thought of what our project would be about?" He asks. 

I looked up from scribbling down a few notes. "Yeah. Kind of, I mean. I had to ask you first, seeing as you're my partner." I handed out the notebook for him to see. He took it, stared at it for a moment then placed it on the table and wrote something then handed it back to me. 

"You just missed one important point. Otherwise, I think your idea is really good." 

I took the notebook from him and read the note he'd scribbled down at the bottom of the page. His handwriting was a stark contrast from mine; cursive, loopy and perfectly sized, while mine was small, equally spaced and neat. I struggled to read the note and Adam seemed to notice my dilemma because then he'd read it out loud. I'd nodded. 

We stayed for a couple of hours more in the library, dicussing Organic Chemistry before he stood up. 

"Alright. Uh, I have to go. We'll discuss this tomorrow after school, maybe?" He said, swinging his bag around his shoulders and gathering his things. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here." 

He nodded and walked past me. 

I stared at the bookshelf infront of me. I didn't watch him as he walked away. I refuse to watch him as he walks away.