I became engulfed in the darkness of a cruel world for the past four months. Since my mother was snatched away from us in a terrible car collision. Having no place to go, my elder married sister Leila refused to bear responsibility for me and our eleven-year-old little brother Bilal. She herself was married to a selfish imam who dissuaded her from giving us shelter at their home.

My mother was my comfort and shield, composed of truly devotional motherly traits which were stripped away from us. Leaving Bilal and I unprotected and vulnerable. Fast forward four months since her passing on to the next life, Bilal and I are dwelling now with our estranged father whom we refer to as baba, including his nightmarish second wife and their three kids.

Baba and his wife, Naheed are already planning to marry me off to a total stranger. My groom-to-be is the son of Naheed's closest friend.

I am prohibited from doing anything else with my life. By now I've fully come to terms with acceptance of my protests falling futile to baba's ears. I was initially afraid of the prospect of arranged marriage, however, baba refused my request for an answer. Now, I've decidedly arrived at terms with the possibility that I might find peaceful refuge in my in-law's home instead.

I had to be strong and resilient for my little brother, mom had me promise to take care of Bilal moments before she passed away in the hospital.

I desired not to leave America. I really had no alternative option, either it was foster care for my brother and I which would mean impending separation or it was baba and Australia.

***

When Friday rolls around, I pretty much have a lot packed into my schedule. Not only am I preparing for my nikkah this coming weekend but I am also ordered by Naheed to help her daughter Najma with her beauty pageant preparation. My sister Leila is currently visiting for my upcoming wedding. She issues me some degree of sympathy for my slaving condition and offers to help out. Which I'm overly grateful for.

"Why is baba even allowing this? I had assumed he would be religious when I spotted his bearded face after all these years." Leila whispers in my ears while we buckle our seat belts in the car.

"He's got strange double standards, alright" I mutter.

I couldn't care less how Baba handles his daughters from Naheed so long as he gives us all fair equal treatment. Which was lacking throughout my boarding in his home.

Now I can look forward to the behavior of my future in-laws next week. The drive to Windham Park and Recreation center would have been less than twenty minutes had there not been such heavy traffic congestion on the roads linking to it.

I guess this Miss Aussie Teen pageant is a huge deal here after all just like beauty pageants were a huge deal in America.

Naheed parks the car in the reserved parking area exclusively for pageant contestants.

I notice a handful of the camera crew and news and fashion reporters with their equipment vans just a few feet away. The pageant is due to commence around seven p.m. tonight.

"Why don't you have a phone ?" Leila asks me as we follow Naheed and Najma through a bustling hallway filled with beauty contestants and their family members.

"That is a question better reserved for baba and Naheed," I replied tersely.

We enter into a gymnasium, twice as big as a regular high school gymnasium.

Laid out in front of us, are neatly lined rows of temporary roofless ten feet tall cardboard cubicles. They serve as dressing and make-up rooms for the contestants.

Not all of them have yet filled up as I notice girls rushing in and out of theirs. Some are clad in flashy clothes already while others remain in their casual attires. A few strut about in their bathrobes.

We walk past probably forty cubicles till Najma reaches the one assigned to her by number.

There isn't room enough for all three of us in the cubicle. On Naheed's orders, I remain awkwardly lingering outside while Leila helps her with Najma's hairdo.

Standing there as a silent spectator, I judge the girls rushing to and fro. Some of these girls are very attractive even without make-up.

"Ah well look at that! All four of us can't fit in there!" I hear a woman sigh exasperatedly behind me.

I pivot myself to the source of the voice. I discover a very tall, gracefully slender, and elegantly dressed blonde woman.

She looks to be probably in her mid-thirties. She stands near the entrance to the cubicle next to ours on my left.

" This sucks, Rachael!" Remarks another voice.

A tomboyish girl around my age pokes her head out from the cubicle, pouting her bright pink lips and narrowing her hazel eyes.

Then another girl, extremely gorgeous and appearing to be my age, steps out from inside of the cubicle fully. Her eyes are the color of emeralds, hair a pale shade of blonde.

She stands there wrapped in a very expensive-looking silky white and gold-laced robe.

"Rachael, how about you take Arielle out to the swings and slides until the show gets started?" She suggests in a melodious tone as she smiles eagerly at the older blonde in front of her.

"Noooo!" Arrives a shrill rejection from inside of the cubicle.

No later than two seconds, out pops a red-haired girl who looks about seven years old. She huffs furiously as she tries to shove the pretty blonde girl away.

"I'm not going anywhere, aunt Katie!! I wanna stay here and see Princess Jasmine !"

"You'll get to see her on stage, Arielle," Katie informs curtly.

The other tomboyish girl in the denim shorts ruffles Arielle's hair. "Be grateful, you'll get the privilege to be seated in the front row, kiddo!"

"Bev shut up !" Arielle snaps angrily at the tomboy girl. Her eyes started to brim with tears.

"Arielle! That is not good manners honey!" The older blonde named Rachael warns.

"But mummy I wanna stayyyyy" whines, Arielle. "I wanna meet princess Jasmine!"

"Apologise to Bev and Katie first then I'll let you remain here. " Rachael entreats.

Arielle turns obligingly towards Bev "Sorry!" Then she offers an apology to the other. "Sorry aunt Katie"

"Girls, I must drive to the daycare to pick up Charlie! I'll return soon." Rachael exclaims before glancing at her daughter. "Arielle, be good for mummy now! I want to hear of no trouble from you."

"But I'm always good! Charlie isn't! But I am!" Arielle stomps her feet in protest.

"Yeah yeah, get in here you less of a trouble maker. " Bev conveys sarcastically. She drags the little girl into the cubicle while Rachael departs the group.

I should have been minding my own business instead of observing these women. However, I lacked anything else to preoccupy myself with while I stood there in a place where I didn't belong.

I briefly wonder over their countenance. These women appear to be from super-wealthy families. Well that Katie, Rachael, and Arielle look the part more so than the girl named Bev with her strange fruity jewelry and countless leather beaded bracelets.

"Excuse me, young lady!" A jovial male voice intrudes from the right side of me.

I tilt my head to find a most unusual-looking man dressed in the most peculiar of clothes. His hair texture seems to resemble bright pink cotton candy. It is fluffed up to a twirl on his head.

His brows are inky black and his dark eyes that seem to carry a spark of merriment. He is clad in a purple pinstriped vest over a solid purple shirt and pinstriped pants.

I'm uncertain as to what to make of this peculiar specimen, happily eyeing me.

" Yes ?" I question, revealing the curiosity within my tone.

"Don't mind me asking, but how old are you ?" He chirps so casually.

"Why do you want to know ?" I inquire instead, my guard's up immediately.

"Well certainly you've heard of me before, the name's Freddie Cortes." He wiggles his brows.

"Sorry you're not familiar" I shook my head in rapid decline. Upon hearing this, his smile nearly vanishes for a split.

"I work as a fashion editor for Aussie Fab magazine, I have my own clothing line for tweens and teens." He provides a quick introduction.

"Oh, um.." I search for the words to respond with, uncomprehending why he'd approach me.

Without wasting another second, he elaborates why. "The reason I asked you for your age is because one of the girls I hired for my brief fashion show before the pageant begins, has bailed out on me today! So I am wondering if you could fill in the gap?"

What?!

I stare at him in unmasked alarm. Does he not see the simple hijab on my head indicating clearly that I'm a Muslim girl. Has he not noticed the overall modest yet plain attire of mine? I don't even look remotely fashionable.

"My name is Hooriya.." I laugh nervously, indicating the obvious as I touch my hijab. "Eighteen and a Muslim!"

"Yes, it's one of the reasons why I'm asking you" He beams, continuing "The other major reason would be, you are a stunning foreign beauty!"

I feel myself blush at his compliment. " Uhm thank you, but-"

" I'll pay you right now on the spot !" He offers swiftly before I could decline.

"Look, Mister Cortes.." I carefully start my haste rejection. "I am not cut out for modeling and as you can see I'm not tall enough to be one either."

"Even if tall height mattered for this event I would still have approached you! You're a rare find." He declares. This only deepens my blush while he proceeds to press on. "Haven't you heard of petite models ?"

"Exactly how much ?" I recognize Leila's voice from behind.

Shocked, I whirl around to face her. She pays me no mind as I pin her a puzzled glare of warning.

"What are you doing? Naheed and Najma will hear, they will not tolerate this!" I whisper to her through clenched teeth.

" Naheed is helping Najma out of a dress she's gotten herself stuck into, don't worry it will take them twenty minutes. "Leila snickers unapologetically. "Najma over ate junk this entire week in spite of Naheed's warnings."

"How do five hundred dollars sound to you? You model one dress for me." Mister Cortes continues to offer his proposition.

"Depends on what you're asking her to model" Leila peers up at him dubiously. "Something modest!"

Mister Cortes chuckles. "Of course, it's nothing skimpy. The Muslim girl who was to model the dress today also wears a headscarf. She was to represent a princess Jasmine's appearance. My theme for today is the Disney princesses."

"Princess Jasmine from the animated movie wore quite revealing clothes." I remind incredulously.

" I knew you'd bring that up, but the outfit I've designed is not so revealing. No tummy will be showing and no plunging neckline. It comes with a head scarf and face veil." He explains carefully. "This outfit is geared towards my diverse clientele which also happens to include wealthy Muslim ladies in Dubai."

"Then she'll do it !" Leila concludes.

"What!?" I sputter at her. So she was actually seriously negotiating this.

"Excuse us for a sec" Leila takes hold of my arm and drags me a few steps away from the fashion designer. " You could really use that money! This is once in a lifetime chance !"

I shake my head in disapproval. "I'm not interested in modeling and show biz. Never have and never will be !"

She rolls her eyes and heaves a sigh. "Okay, that's been noted from the way you dress as a hobo-"

"Hey ! Don't make fun, I'm dressed immaculately even if my clothes are not brand new and it's not my fault I don't have new clothes, ask those in charge of the household!" I snap torridly "Don't blame me!"

"Okay! Okay fine, calling you a hobo was an exaggeration but now you can see the reason why you could really use that money! Spend it on clothes or something." She looks me in the eyes pleadingly. "This will be done only once, not like he's asking to hire you full time. I doubt anyone would recognize you with the veil!"

"But what about Naheed and Najma? "

"They won't notice you're gone since this modeling show is set before the actual pageant. You'll have plenty of time! Just keep me updated by text and I'll keep you updated."

"Are you forgetting I don't own a cell phone ?" I don't bother hiding my annoyance.

"See! you could really use that money to get yourself some cheap cell phone and a prepaid phone card!" Leila emphasizes.

Hmm, she does have a point.

I really need a cell phone on me at all times, especially since the horrid incident of past Monday. I shudder inwardly. It was when baba's restaurant's favorite employee named Hamdard was visiting.

I try hard not to think of the incident where I had been nearly sexually harassed by Hamdard during baba's brief absence. Thankfully, Bilal was there to prevent that creep from causing any sordid incident. Yet baba would hear no word against Hamdard.

"Come on! What do you say ?" Leila entreats.

"Fine, I'll do it." I inhale deeply and repeat my agreement to Mister Cortes.

"Great follow me then !" He says triumphantly, turning to walk towards the fourth cubicle on our right. I grasp Leila's hand momentarily and she gives it a reassuring squeeze before she steps back into her cubicle.

***

Glossary:

Nikkah: Arabic Islamic word for marriage ceremony.

AstaghfirAllah: Arabic for "May God forgive me "