The next morning, I trudged out of the kitchen and slugged my backpack over my shoulder. I passed by the living room and would have kept going had it not been for Mama.

"Inaya?" she said, folding a prayer mat. She was wearing her prayer hijab, too. "Did you get your lunch?"

I turned back and went to the glass bowl of pasta and pink lunchbox sitting on the kitchen island. I hoped my mom hadn't seen the tiredness on my face. Because of a CrusadEon tournament, I had to stay up late to study for the last English test today.

"And before you go, I told your baba to start picking you up from school when he can. It's too hot for you to inhale all that bus exhaust."

"That'll be nice," I said over my shoulder. "Did you check on the air conditioning or whatever caused the smell?" I scrunched my nose as I recalled the foul odor.

"It's been...two weeks since you first mentioned it? I think the smell should be gone by now. But if you're still worried, maybe it's just the smell of your baba's shoes or something? He sometimes works in stinky places, and the car floor gets stained."

"That could be it," I headed for the door. "I'm going now. Bye, Mama! Love you!"

"Okay, Inaya. I love you more, kiddo."

After parking outside the school building, Baba told me he'd pick me up at around two. I nodded and stepped out of the car. I caught sight of Valentino walking toward the school. I put a slight spring in my step to catch up with him. As I caught his eyes, we exchanged a smile.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, opening the door for me.

"Good! Thanks," I said while observing him. He was tanner now, undoubtedly from all those soccer practices in the summer sun. "Today's not one of those additional-class days?"

"Nope," Valentino chuckled a little. "I was getting tired of them, anyway."

As we walked into homeroom, Valentino went right to his desk and took his phone out. I went to my locker to put away my lunch and sat beside him. But his eyes were still glued to his screen, and I bit my lip, looking away. This was the first time we had time to talk, but Valentino seemed like he didn't mind not talking to me all that much anymore.

But I knew why. It's because he likes Tireya. He won't talk to me the way he did before he met her. I fidgeted with the end of my hijab, rubbing the fabric through my fingers. I didn't know whether to feel upset or flattered by that.

Thankfully, a conversation between Salah and Ameena behind me was enough to break the awkwardness. I promptly turned around to join their conversation.

"My mom is un-be-lievable," Salah groaned. "She expects me to arrive before three because a plumber is coming to our home to fix our leaking pipes. But how am I supposed to get home by then? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that amazing to be able to fly, you know. Ugh, I'll just text her and tell her to reschedule the plumber to visit on the weekend."

"What about any relatives?" Ameena asked. "My mom usually asks for my nani's help for those kinds of things. She's super tough. Feels safer, too, to have another adult when we're letting strangers into the house."

Salah and Inaya knew the word nani had to mean maternal grandmother because Urdu and Bangla had similar words. In Bangla, the word for maternal grandmother was nanu.

"All my close relatives live outside New York, or my parents would've asked them for help," Salah said. "Besides, the plumber is my mom's distant cousin, so he's not really a stranger. But still, I need to be home to show him where the pipe leaks and everything."

"Hey, I have an idea!" I jumped into the conversation. "My dad is picking me up around two today. If you want, I could ask him to give you a ride home. You don't live that far from where we live, right?"

Salah's face lit up at the opportunity of my offer. "Yeah, I think so. But!" her eyes went narrow with exaggerated suspicion. "Would it be okay for your dad? I don't want to bother him. Can you make sure it won't be a problem?"

"Yeah! I'll text him." I nodded. While I did that, Salah turned to Ameena.

"Hey, Ameena, what if I just borrow your grandma?" she asked.

"I don't trust you to give her back!" Ameena laughed. "Once you taste her nihari and hear the crazy stories from her days as a nurse in Pakistan, you're going to want to keep her," she teased.

"I'm just borrowing her, not kidnapping her." Salah feigned a pout.

"Knowing you, it's hard to be sure!"

Putting down my phone, I sighed. "I wished I had grandparents to bother."

"You don't have grandparents, Inaya?" Ameena threw me a sympathetic look.

"I mean...I do. I met my grandparents on Dad's side, but only when I was younger. I don't see them that much now. As for my mom's parents, I've never even met them. My mom rarely talks about them, too." A notification drew me out of my thoughts. "Salah! My dad said he doesn't mind giving you a ride!" I exclaimed.

"Tha-a-nks. I'll tell my mom that I'll be there."

"Inaya, if Salah doesn't come to school tomorrow, is it safe to assume you've sold her to a circus?" Ameena giggled.

"Hey!" Salah flipped the end of her hijab over her shoulder. "No one can afford me."

"Ameena, if you don't tell anyone, we can split the amount fifty-fifty!"

We broke into laughter, but a glare and clearing of the throat from Mrs. Asaka from the front of the classroom quieted us. Straightening up with a smile, I returned to facing Mrs. Asaka at the front of the classroom, grateful for my two friends.

* * *

Two o'clock came. Salah, Ameena, and I were talking excitedly as we walked out of the school building. Ameena was showing us pictures of her grandma on her phone, the current one being a picture of her attending one of Ameena's art exhibitions for her eighth-grade school fair. It showed the old woman's wrinkled yet beaming face as she stood alongside a younger, braces-wearing Ameena.

"I love her so much. She really gets me," Ameena said. "She understands that I love art and I'm not big on sciences. She told me I should pursue whatever subject I love."

My chest ached as I looked at Ameena's phone. My parents were understanding and supportive, too, but I wondered what it was like to receive that kind of care and love from a grandparent. What did it feel like?

"She sounds like one cool grandma," I said.

"She is!" Ameena agreed.

"Okay!" Salah declared. "I changed my mind. I might wanna kidnap her after all, to make her my resident grandma."

"Don't you dare!" Ameena warned, just in time for Baba to pull up in front of the school.

Salah and I said our goodbyes to Ameena, and we both jumped into the car. I crashed into shotgun while Salah sat in the back passenger seat.

I scrunched up my nose and stayed quiet.

"Hi, Mr. Stonewell," Salah greeted him as she settled in the backseat of the car. "Thank you for giving me a ride. I'm so sorry to bother you..." she frowned and said nothing more.

Baba didn't notice and replied with a smile. "It's okay, Salah. Your house is not that far away from ours. It's not a bother at all."

With the screeching tires to cover my voice, I said, "Uh, Baba, that smell came back." I hadn't smelled it this morning, either.

"Really?" Baba scrunched up his nose, too, imitating me. "Hmm...Let's leave the window down for a bit, then. There's some nice wind to keep us cool while the air conditioning is off." He chuckled lightly. "I forgot to replace the car freshener your mama bought me. Remind me to put up another new freshener when we get home, okay?"

"Sure." I turned to look at Salah. "Hey, how come you're so quiet?" I asked. "Don't be shy! My dad doesn't bite!"

Salah gave me a weak, awkward smile before mumbling, "Thank you again, Mr. Stonewell. I really appreciate it," before turning her head to face the open car window.

Baba lifted his hand to wave and smiled before focusing on the road. I glanced back at Salah and then turned my attention away to rest my head on the seat. Salah was probably bothered by the weird smell, and I couldn't do much about it.

Salah remained sitting quietly in the backseat, looking out the window for the fifteen minutes it took to get to her apartment. Once she opened the door, she came back to life.

"Thank you so much for the ride! Bye-e-e, Inaya!"

"No problem! Bye!"

As we drove back home, Baba turned on the radio. I slid into my seat, using my hijab to cover my face, and watched the blur of apartments turn into trees and lawns.

"Thanks, Baba," I said sarcastically, "What a great first impression."

"You thought so? Happy to hear it!"