Once Upon A Muslim

Semi-Chapter 5 | Zahra | Expect the Unexpected

"Zahra. Zahra. Zahraaa. Zahra!" he screeches into my ear. Zubayr is so annoying, especially when he's the first to wake up. I just don't get how it's always him and Zakariya who are the ones to wake up first to get ready for school.

"Hmm?" I mumble, as I slowly and reluctantly open my eyes. Zubayr moves the comforter, and I'm immediately acquainted with cold drafts. I involuntarily shiver before stretching and yawning.

"Can you make me breakfast?" he asks innocently.

I shrug. "Sure, whatever. Hold on, let me get a robe." He nods and leaves my room. I notice that he's already dressed. Mama must have stayed up through Fajr, since she's been doing that for a some time now. She usually gets the boys ready for school early in the morning, since I take a ridiculously long time in the bathroom. Also, she makes them breakfast, but she always makes me get my own.

I grab my robe which is on the floor. I usually keep my room clean, since my mom would always complain for the smallest things that are out of place. If I ever leave a mountain of clothes on my bed or litter the floor with dishes, I will make sure to write my will before she confronts me. Mothers are to be taken seriously. I've learned the hard way.

I put on my robe over my sweatpants and tank top. I tie it and head downstairs to make my brother breakfast. For some people, it's outrageous to be woken up only to be asked to cook breakfast. I, on the other hand, live with two - now three brothers, so I eventually have to get used to it. Besides, I love them, and I can never hold a grudge against them over some minuscule thing.

I enter the kitchen to find Zubayr patiently waiting at the breakfast table. The only other person up is Zak, who seems to be stacking Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal on top of each other. I never understand why he does that. I tell him to stop playing with the food unless I call Mama, which he protests to and immediately pours milk into the bowl.

I grab a bowl and and crack the eggs. After adding salt, I whisk it until I'm satisfied and find a few vegetables to cut. After I do so, I spread oil over the skillet, wait for it to heat up, and dump the veggies in there. Then, I add the whisked yolk and wait a couple minutes before flipping it over and scramble the eggs. After I'm finished, I put a portion of it on a plate and hand it to Zubayr, who takes his toast and spreads jam on it after telling me thanks.

I leave the remaining scrambled eggs in the skillet and head upstairs to get ready. I've taken a shower the night before, so I decide to put on my outfit. It's a dark purple maxi dress with a jeans jacket and a black hijab - cute but simple. Although many people consider me a 'fashionista', I like to keep things under a limit.

I don't bother to put on any makeup, since I don't give a care if I look like a monster. I've listened to more lectures lately, and some of them refer to women concealing their beauty from the public. I'm only here to please Allah, no one else. So I decide to put on lip balm, that's all.

Now that I'm done, all I can think about is my first day of school in Florida. That guy I met when we first moved in, Daniel, mentioned that he goes to the same school I'm enrolled in. Some days when he helped us finish settling in, he offered to show me a tour, but I declined every time. I need to keep my modesty at its best. He seems really nice, but after what happened to Kayla, I don't want to trust a guy right away. He seems nice. Nick seemed nice. But now look where he had ended up.

I decide to stop comparing the two boys since it's kind of stupid to be having second thoughts about him already. He's really kind and funny, so I'll try to be as nice to him as possible.

As I drag my feet down the stairs, I hear a bedroom door open. Zayd, my older brother, descends down the stairs, while being distracted on his phone. I sigh since he has been like that ever since we moved in. He never mentions it, but I think his grades are declining gradually. He doesn't seem to be as hard-working as he was in high school.