Where Destiny Found Me

CHAPTER SIX: JAMES

"AISHA POV"

The cafeteria at Monroe was overwhelming.

It was massive, with dozens of food stations and what seemed like thousands of students all talking at once. The noise was almost physical a wall of sound that made my ears ring. I grabbed a plate of jollof rice (they actually had jollof rice, which made me almost cry), some vegetables, and a water bottle, and looked for somewhere to sit.

Most tables were already full. Groups of friends laughing together, existing in their own little worlds. I felt very alone, suddenly. Very aware of the fact that I didn't know anyone here, that I was wearing a hijab in a room full of girls with uncovered hair, that I looked different and sounded different and felt like I was from a completely different planet.

I found an empty table in the corner and sat down, keeping my head down and my focus on my food.

I made it approximately two minutes before someone approached me.

"Yo, is it true you're not allowed to cut your hair because of your religion?"

I looked up to see a group of girls standing around my table. They couldn't have been more than five feet away, but they were talking about me like I wasn't there. Like I couldn't hear them.

"Excuse me?" I said, trying to sound confident even though my heart was suddenly racing.

"Your hijab thing," one of them said, gesturing vaguely at my head. "My roommate's from Pakistan, and she said that girls have to cover their hair for religious reasons. Is that why you wear it?"

"I wear it because I choose to," I said carefully. "It's part of my faith."

"That's so oppressive," another girl said, and she seemed genuinely concerned. "Like, how do you even function? Doesn't it make you hot?"

"It's actually cooler than you might think," I said, even though my hands were shaking under the table.

"But like, don't men force you to wear it?" the first girl continued. "I read this article about how women in Muslim countries are basically slaves to their fashion choices."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't get the chance.

"Okay, so here's the thing," a voice said, and a boy was suddenly there, standing between me and the group of girls. He had a high fade, warm brown eyes, and was wearing a vintage band t-shirt. "You're being racist. And also stupid. Which is a combination that doesn't look good on anyone."

The girls looked shocked. "We were just asking—"

"You were being rude," he interrupted. "There's a difference. And if you want to ask someone questions about their culture or their religion, maybe try doing it without the condescension and the implicit racism. Just a thought."

The girls left, looking embarrassed and annoyed. The boy turned to me and smiled.

"Hi, I'm James," he said, sitting down at my table without asking. "I'm sorry about that. Those girls are the worst. They mean well, but they have like zero self-awareness."

"Thank you," I said, still shaken. "That was... thank you."

"Don't thank me," James said. "Racism is boring and I'm tired of it. Also, I'm gay, so I have a certain amount of empathy for being othered. Not the same thing, obviously, but I get the general vibe of not fitting in."

"You're very direct," I said.

"Life's too short for subtext," he said. "So, where are you from?"

"Lagos," I said. "Nigeria."

"That's so cool," James said, and somehow, coming from him, it sounded genuine. Not like he was fetishizing me or being patronizing. Just like he actually thought that was cool. "What's your name?"

"Aisha," I said.

"Well, Aisha from Lagos, you're now friends with me, which is a blessing and a curse. I'm hilarious but also exhausting. I take drama classes, which means I'm theater-kid dramatic about everything. I have strong opinions about music. And I'm probably going to adopt you into my friend group, which includes two other people who are actually decent humans, so it'll be fine."

"I just met Gift on my campus tour," I said.

"Oh, so you've already met the other half of our friend group," James said. "That's perfect. So you know Gift. Zoey is your roommate apparently. And I'm the gay best friend who's here for emotional support and comedic relief. This is actually perfect. The group was feeling a little unbalanced without the fourth."

"I don't know if I'm ready to commit to a friend group," I said, but I was smiling.

"Too bad," James said. "You don't have a choice. Consider yourself adopted. Now eat your food and tell me everything about Lagos."

We spent the rest of lunch together, and James talked almost as much as Zoey did. But where Zoey's talking felt like enthusiasm, James's talking felt like he was genuinely interested in me. He asked questions. He listened. He made jokes that made me laugh even though I was still kind of shaken from the girls.

By the time lunch ended, I'd been officially adopted into a friend group.

"So, Zoey's throwing a party in our room tomorrow night," James said, as we were leaving the cafeteria. "Small thing, just like ten people. Gift will be there. I'll be there. Some other people who are cool. You should come. You need to experience the Monroe social scene, and our little gatherings are actually the best ones because we don't do the obnoxious frat-party thing."

"I'll be there," I said.

"Good," James said. "And Aisha? You're going to be fine here. I can tell. You've got backbone. That's rare at Monroe."