Lillian Ahmad was as close as you could get to an average Muslim-American girl of thirteen. 

Now, don't get the wrong impression. Lillian did have the dark skin and somewhat thick accent of an Arabic person, but otherwise, she was normal. Her father was and immigrant from Syria. Two years after he settled in Augusta, Maine, Lillian was born.

Amir Ahmad was a great father to Lillian, yes. He would say it was pure luck he had met Lillian's mother.

But Amir could never name her, much to Lillian's disappointment. 

Now, Lillian was twelve, and turning thirteen in two weeks. She was still in seventh grade. 

--------------------------------------

"Wake up, small owl!" 

My father shook me awake.

My paternal nickname was small owl. 'Lillian', in Arabic, translated to 'Lilyan'. That, translated back to English, meant 'nightly' or 'nocturnal'. An owl was nocturnal, and by all fatherly standards, my father thought of me as his 'little owl'.

Dad always joked about how I was nocturnal, anyways. I liked to study all night, in fear of a pop quiz. Of course, though, there was never a pop quiz.

I tossed a blue knit cardigan over my head and shuffled into the knee-length plaid skirts of Maine Academy for Young and Gifted Ladies. 

Main Academy was not a private school, but one had to apply and be accepted. It was a middle- through high school, and the girls there were proper and well-mannered.

I was one of the few Arabic girls there, though. Even though rules were strictly enforced, that didn't stop bullying, whether off-campus or on.  

I swiftly fingered a braid of black hair that snaked over my shoulder and down to my shoulder nook.

The Maine Academy always persuaded healthy eating. No chips, sodas, or sugary substances were allowed on campus, other than when some girl had a birthday.

As I nearly ran down the stairs to breakfast, my hand ran over my cardigan. There were golden words embroidered.

In educatione et infirmorum- my school motto. It translates from Latin to Education and Health. Underneath that was Maine Academy for Young and Gifted Ladies.

Anyways, enough about what I look like. I'm sure it isn't particularly interesting.

I raced downstairs to the dinner table. Lying there was two pieces of toast with syrup and hot chocolate.

I sighed. Dad had already left for work...again. I almost was never able to eat breakfast with him. You see, he was a lawyer. Oh, and he still is, I'm just telling this story in past tense. It's not like he dies.

I snarfed down my toast and drained my cup, then raced out the door. My backpack wasn't really a backpack-just a bag with books and food.  

I raced out the door and to the bus stop. The sixty-degrees spring didn't effect me at all. With a chug and a creak, the Maine Academy bus pulled up at my stop.

The MAYGL (pronounced May-gull) buses aren't too bad, really. Almost like Charter buses.

Author's Note: I'm sorry if the readers don't know what Charters are; I live in Texas. It's this type of bus that is made for traveling far distances. They have plush seats, movie screens, and electrical outlets.

See, since MAYGL is a magnet school, we have good buses. Basically minus the electrical outlets, the buses are Charters.

Anyways, moving on. I'm a description freak.

I went and sat with my friend, Alexandra. She's a Greek descendant. Anyhoo.

"Hey, Lil!" she waved. She calls me Lil. I don't like it.

"Hi, Alex!" I said.

"So, I've figured out a way to mess with the grading system." She said, looking down at her laptop screen. 

"Alex, you know we don't really need that. Both you and I get fantastic grades." I scolded her. She ran her fingers through her blonde her, then pulled it up into a knot.

"I know but, it's a great bargaining chip!" she protested.

"For what?"

"Like, if one was being bullied, say, by a low-grade girl who's parents won't let her have electronics for the next year if she doesn't do well, then..." Alex made a turning-palms-out gesture, like she was saying, duh.

"Well, first-off, that would be blackmail, and second, that's her problem, not ours." I said.

Alex pouted. 

"So I went through all this trouble for nothing?" she looked up at me.

"I suppose so." I sat down next to her.

"Hmph. You are no fun at all." she told me.

"I know, Alex."

----------------

We pulled up to the school. I flipped my braid over my shoulder. Alex slammed her laptop closed and shoved into her backpack. We grabbed our bags and hopped off the bus. 

The buses were lined up in the semicircle that the school driveway. Hundreds of girls were milling about the pavement. 

Just a little moment of description. You know how I love description.

MAYGL is compromised of a huge complex of buildings. Inside the giant campus, there's a huge courtyard lined by the classrooms. We have a large track, dining pavilion, and tennis/basketball/volleyball court. No swimming pool, though! Anyway. 

We strolled through a crowd of girls into the courtyard. 

Alex stuck some earphones into her, well, ears. She started humming to something, probably Melanie Martinez or something like that.  She opened her laptop, typing her way away, bobbing her head to her music.

I stared at her, drifting away in my thoughts. She was really quite pretty. I know, I'm probably sinful for saying that. A Muslim being bisexual? What? Allah must hate this infidel! 

I'm not a straight-up Muslim, and neither is my father. I don't wear the hijab all the time, and I only have one for community gatherings, since we live in a pretty much Muslim neighborhood. I've always questioned my sexuality, ever since I developed a tiny crush on Alex. I've been thinking and I'm probably bisexual and maybe demisexual as well. But who cares! Other than the other Muslim people I know, and, well, everyone else as well. Oh well.

My thoughts were interrupted when another but yet more popular. Her silky hair was styled and wrapped in a pretty hijab, fastened with a lovely, jeweled brooch. She was followed by several other girls of the same ethnicity.

I ran my fingers through my hair nervously.

"Uh, hey Alia." I said shakily. She smirked.

"Still haven't gone with the scarf? No worries, I understand... a bit. But at least cover your arms, my goodness. And your legs. I mean, you should at least shave." she laughed. Her group snickered.

I gingerly touched my arms and looked at Alex. She was still rather preoccupied with her laptop. 

"Maybe your arms are the reason Allah made us cover our arms!" Alia continued. She opened her mouth to say something else but the bell rang.

I poked Alex. She looked up, startled and pulled her earphones out of her ears. 

"Come on, first period!" I tugged on her arm.