Asiya's hairbrush smacked against the wall with a thwack.

Last night, Asiya's mum bulldozed her way in front of the television, concealing the cartoon from Asiya, to ask if she had sorted everything that she needed for school.

Asiya had swept her hand across her shoulder suavely. "I've got everything under control," Asiya had firmly said.

The statement was true at the time.

Asiya had triple-checked that her pencil case, textbooks, and notebooks were sandwiched neatly into her bag. She had scrolled through every sixth-form group chat to ensure she hadn't accidentally missed an assignment. She had bought a bus pass, set her alarms, ironed her outfit, and laid it on her bed.

She had planned to have everything under control.

She was in her final year of school, on the cusp of entering a form of adulthood through another institution– university–where reinvention was a rite of life as much as it was a desperate want.

This year would be her practice run before the real one, a prep course, and control was necessary for Asiya's plans to work.

Asiya's sense of control was easily lost, like a bookmark slipping below the borders of a page. The small things always nicked at it.

It was a small thing, the snoozing of one alarm that had caused Asiya to cross out multiple steps in her morning to-do list and crash through the rest. The smallest amount of pressure had made Asiya's concealer burst out of its packaging and stain her clothes.

Because of a small thing, Asiya was tearing through her room, emptying her wardrobe, rummaging through her drawers, and flipping open her school files. It was the reason why she was becoming late.

"Where the hell is my pin?" Asiya cried loudly as she tossed her pillows off her bed and lifted her duvet cover.

"Kulthum!" Asiya yelled as she yanked open her side drawer. Her hands scattered through her personal lost and found pile. Random paper clips, old receipts, cheap jewellery, bookmarks, and every other forgettable item that could fit were strewn in there, except for her black safety pin.

"Kulthum! Did you take my pin?" Asiya shouted as she pushed her head deeper into the drawer.

"Kulthum doesn't even wear hijab yet, Asiya," Aminah said from behind her.

Asiya pulled her head out of her drawer as Aminah stretched her legs over some objects, inviting herself into Asiya's room.

Asiya slammed her drawer shut and snorted. "Kulthum doesn't have a reason for half of the things in her room, but somehow, they still end up there. She puts pickpockets to shame."

Aminah rolled her eyes and sat on a blank space on Asiya's bed. "Kulthum is still sleeping," she said. "I don't know how with all this noise you're making."

"I'm just looking for my pin. Where the hell could it be?" Asiya stropped. Her hands flapped against her thighs as she childishly stamped her feet into the ground.

It didn't matter how hard Asiya tried, how many checklists she created, or how many times she mentally rehearsed her routines; something always seemed to slip out of place, making her plans feel as unstable as a Jenga tower at the end of a game.

Today, a missing safety pin. Tomorrow, she would miss her future if she didn't pull herself together.

This year was supposed to be a prep course, not a crash course. It was meant to be a solid, secure, and steady foundation—a starting point.

This was not the point Asiya wanted to start from at all.

"Why do you only have one pin?" Aminah asked while sweeping a slightly disapproving look over Asiya and her room. "That's abnormal for a hijabi."

Asiya shot her sister a glare as she began to disarrange her bookshelf. "I used to have loads, but they keep disappearing, or they break, and I keep forgetting to buy–"

A string of harsh, repetitive honks tore through their conversation.

"Well." Aminah's mouth twisted with more disapproval. "If that's your ride, it looks like you're going to school–"

"Hijabless?" Asiya jokingly finished.

"No." Aminah tried to hide her irritation, but it was evident by how she rolled her eyes. "Pinless."

"I'm supposed to be going to school by bus today," Asiya said quietly.

The honking continued to hurl through Asiya's room in a repetitive pattern, triggering her heart to beat faster.

"Those honks...is Sarah outside?" Asiya asked, even though she was sure Sarah was.

Asiya knew that sound. She had heard it five days a week for a hundred and ninety days last year. Asiya had it, and the way Sarah straightened her fingers before flexing them backwards as she pressed her car horn memorised.

Those honks announced Sarah was here, in her signature style: loud and attention-seeking. Even though someone like Sarah didn't need to ask for attention, let alone demand it.

Aminah pattered out of Asiya's room and returned two minutes later. "Yup. It's Sarah. Her little Fiat is parked on the front of our drive."

"Weird," Asiya mumbled as she hopped around her room, trying to avoid the clutter. "Do you have a pin I can borrow?"

Aminah shook her head. "Sorry, sis. Mine are in use."

Aminah tapped her hand above her right breast, then her left. She pinched the bottom of her neck and twirled around so Asiya could see the different coloured plastic pins holding her makeshift Khimar together.

Asiya couldn't help but grunt with annoyance.

Of course, her older sister had to waltz into her room and remind her of how perfectly she fulfilled every role she had been assigned: oldest daughter, Muslim, and student. Aminah floated through life like a fictional princess. Nothing ever seemed to go wrong for her.

"Mum should be getting out of the shower soon. You could always ask her for a pin," Aminah suggested.

"No, thank you. It's day one. I don't need any more lectures this early," Asiya said.

More honks vibrated through the walls of Asiya's room. Each sound was prolonged, impatient and rhythmless. Sarah was no longer requesting attention–she was demanding it.

"Sarah's waiting," Aminah noted.

"Impatiently," Asiya added.

Asiya pulled open her vanity drawer and plucked a slim needle-like pin out of her pin cushion. She hated using these types of pins to secure her hijab. She had avoided using them since a girl in her madrasah had accidentally swallowed one last year.

But Asiya had no other choice unless she wanted her hands stapled to the sides of her face, begging her hijab to stay put for the entire day.

Asiya carried the longer end of her hijab around her head. She cautiously slid the needle into the jersey fabric, securing it to her head, and, in a mastered movement, flicked the other end of her scarf so it draped across her chest and shoulder.

She crammed her papers and textbooks back into her bag and winced as their edges curled and bent, but she couldn't stop to adjust them. Not when Sarah was waiting.

Her sister, the state of her room, her breakfast, and everything that Asiya still had left to do was ignored as she barrelled down the stairs and squashed her feet into her trainers, crushing their leather collars.

Asiya wanted to check her appearance in the hallway mirror.

She usually made sure that her mascara wasn't bleeding, her hair was covered and that she looked pretty enough to learn amongst the other girls in her school, but Sarah wasn't going to spare Asiya time to do so today.

Asiya chucked a loud bye into her house hallway for whoever wanted to catch it and hurriedly toddled out of the front door. 

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Author's Note: Asalamu Alaykum, everyone! 🤍. Hello, thank you for reading my book. If you're re-reading A&Y, hello again! I hope you enjoy it even more than the first time! I would love to hear your thoughts, so please don't feel shy about commenting on them. I'm a yapper. 🤭.

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Chapter Glossary:

Hijab: A head covering worn by Muslim women. Hijab is meant to cover your hair, ears, neck and chest.

Khimar: Another name for a head covering worn by Muslim women.

Muslim: An individual who practices the religion Islam and believes there is only One God.

Madrasah: (Arabic Term) School or any educational institution where Islam studies and/or Arabic is taught.