Alia sits in her calculus class, twirling her pencil between her fingers and blinking back tears. She looks across the room, watching Amelia, Mallory, and Logan talk between themselves. A week ago, she would be sitting with them, discussing God knows what. Except she’s not. Instead, she’s changed her seats, sitting across Randy, a kid that’s notorious for farting and blaming it on others. As her teacher continues to babble about asymptotes and intervals, Alia looks over to another table near her, which consists of three girls. Three girls who each hold some value in Alia’s life.

Neha and Jas, two Indian girls that Alia’s gone to school with her whole life. Her elementary school best friends. Their friendship was broken up after Neha moved to another high school for her freshman year, and Jas decided to go with her, leaving Alia in the dust. Ever since their return in junior year, though, no one made the effort to reconcile the friendship. Just staring at each other, giving no other sign of acknowledgment. Along with those two, there’s Sana, a girl who moved to Francis W. Parker School in Chicago at the beginning of the semester. Along with being the new girl, Sana’s let it be known that she is Pakistani, a fact that irritated Alia. Why, though? Why did this tiny fact about Sana affect Alia the way that it did?

It’s because Alia, is in fact, also Pakistani. Her dad immigrated to the United States when she was just three, her and her mother following him four years later, when she was seven. She is fluent in Urdu, being able to speak, read, and understand the beautiful language. Writing is difficult, but she still tries. Her favorite food is chicken biryani, specifically her mother’s. Every winter break, she flies back home to Lahore to see her grandmother and cousins. She enjoys Bollywood music and movies, and adores floral shalwar kameez. With all these qualities about her, you may be wondering, “Well, if Alia likes all these things, shouldn’t her and Sana bond?”

The truth is, Alia has hidden most of these aspects about herself. Looking at her first glance, many wouldn’t expect someone who loves Pakistani food so much to bring Chick-Fil-A for lunch. When asked where she’s from, Alia says, “Chicago, always have been.” She pronounces her name A-lee-ah, when its correct pronunciation is Al-ya. Kids at her school would be shocked to find out that her hair is naturally curly, for she wears it long and straight every day. Alia doesn’t let her background be known, because hiding it is what gave her her social status. Well, what’s left of her social status, anyway.

Alia blinks back into reality, realizing there is only two more minutes before school is over. She looks over at Randy, who’s drawing at the corner of his paper. She then looks over one last time, at Amelia and her table, and quickly looks away as she makes eye contact with Logan. She thinks, Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. Alia cringes to herself, hating how she was caught looking over there. God, if you hear me, you’d end this right now. Alia prays in her head, her eyes closed. Suddenly, the bell rings, and it’s time to go home.

Alia packs up her things, and goes to grab her car keys from the bottom of her bag. She takes a moment to do so, making her one of the last people out of the classroom. As she walks towards the door, she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns around to see Logan, looking down at her with a small smile. He opens his mouth to start a conversation between them, the first one in weeks.

“Hey, Alia.”

She bites her bottom lip due to her nerves, and just says, “Hi, Logan.”

“Are you still coming to Amelia’s birthday party?”

Her eyes slightly widen, she had forgotten all about that.

She clears her throat, and says, “Uh, Logan, you know all that’s happened. I don’t think she’d want me there. In fact, I don’t think anyone wants me there. So I think I’ll decline. Sorry.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile.

He slightly steps back in shock, but Logan understands. He nods his head and says, “No, you’re good. I understand.” He returns the smile she gives him.

Alia nods her head, glad that she no longer has to stand here awkwardly. As she turns back towards the door, Logan mumbles something. She turns back around and looks confused.

“Did you say something?”

He stares at her, and just says quietly, “If you want, we can still hang out. None of the… others have to be there, I know you wouldn’t like that.”

She looks at him, and blushes slightly. “Uh, sure. Maybe later on, though, if you don’t mind.”

He smiles back, and starts talking fast, “Sure, yeah, that’s great, uh, see you later, Alia.”

He leaves the classroom and joins the bustling crowd walking through the hallway, leaving her in the class. Alia smiles to herself, and slowly starts to walk out the school, thinking about Logan. Well, she thinks about Logan until she gets to her car and sees who’s parked next to her. 

Neha.

Alia gets in her car and puts her stuff in the seat next to her, looking over and making eye contact with Neha. Alia starts overthinking, “Oh no, please, God, don’t let this be-” until Neha waves.. Alia is slightly taken aback, but waves back. Neha rolls down her window, and signifies to Alia to roll hers down as well. She does, and they start a conversation.

“Hey, Alia, I didn’t know this was your car. Girl, it’s nice!” Neha emphasizes the look of Alia’s car, a black Porsche Macan.

Alia laughs, “Thanks, Neha. I finally got the license this year!”

“May 29, right?”

“Huh?”

“May 29, it’s your birthday, right?”

Alia is again taken aback, and says in awe, “Yeah, how’d you remember?”

Neha looks at her sarcastically, “Come on, Alia, you had the best birthday parties when we were younger. I still haven’t forgotten the princess sleepover from third grade!”

Alia throws her head back as she laughs, “You’re so right.” 

They keep on talking through their car windows, and soon the conversations start to slow down, and the silence between them gets slightly awkward, until Neha says, “Alia?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come over to my place right now? We can catch up, and you can see my family again if you want.”

Alia waits before she responds, still slightly shocked at the pace that they’re moving at. From just saying “hi” to each other, to now inviting her over. In the end, she smiles and says, “Sure, I’ll just follow your car.”

Neha smiles, glad she agreed.

-

Both girls are sitting in Neha’s bed, empty plates of long-forgotten daal chawal and a big bag of Takis sit on her bed side, phones are out, and the two girls are spilling about their lives. Name dropping, cursing, having one of the first “girl talks” Alia has had in weeks. Ever since she was… shunned from her previous friend group.

Alia? Shunned? How? What did she do? 

I know these questions are running through your brain right now. Don’t worry, she’s getting to it soon.

Neha laughs as they scroll through Alia’s Instagram following list and Alia explains who is who, and how she met them. It isn’t until she gets to the account of one girl that she goes quiet. Amelia Scott. Alia’s finger stops scrolling, frozen as she looks at the account, her facial expression blank. However, her heart racing with anxiety, a confused feeling of guilt, and sadness. Neha sees how Alia reacted and asks, “Alia, what’s wrong? I thought you both were friends?”

Alia bites her lip, and just whispers, “Were. We were friends. Not after everything that happened.”

Neha leans over to look Alia in the eye, and slowly asks, “What happened?”

Alia looks at the account, the account tag bolded on the screen, one of the cover photos being a group picture that, she notices, she’s been edited out of. After taking a deep breath, Alia goes, “Here goes nothing.”

-

The day is November 22, 2017. Alia is driving to Amelia’s early Thanksgiving dinner with friends. In the front seat with her is Logan, and in the backseat are Mallory, Brayden, and Mike. Bruno Mars’ voice is tuned out by the chatting of people, lyrics being screamed obnoxiously loud, and overall everyone is having a good time. The car smells of different foods, for they were to bring a dish for the event. Alia brought pulao, a type of savory rice dish that she hoped wouldn’t hurt everyone else’s tastebuds too bad. Alia was slightly anxious no one would like the rice, but she didn’t give it much thought. It’s just pulao.

The group gets to Amelia’s house, and meet up with some other girls and guys in their friend group. They all enjoy their time taking pictures and talking between themselves. When it was time to eat, Alia set out the rice dish for everyone to take their servings from. It wasn’t until everyone had gotten their food that Alia noticed barely anyone had taken food from her platter, the other plates surrounding hers basically empty. The only other plate with rice on it was Logan’s, and that was a hard pill for Alia to swallow. However, she tried to ignore it.

Once the meals were done with, the entire group goes down to Amelia’s basement, where they play a movie in the background as everyone talks. Alia chats with her friends for a little bit, until she excuses herself to the bathroom down the hall. She turns behind a wall to get to the bathroom, and goes in and uses it quietly. As she turns the light off and walks to where the wall is, she hears her name in the conversation. It’s Brayden.

“No one was touching Alia’s plate, bro, that stuff smelled awful.”

Ouch.

Logan speaks up, and says, “Brayden shut up, that’s rude.”

“You’re only sticking up for her because you like her. Crazy that you do, anyways, her nose is way too big. Probably a Middle Eastern thing.”

Alia closes her eyes, blinking back tears. Why’s her friend insulting her, and on top of that, stupidly blames it on an ethnic group she’s not even a part of.

Amelia chirps in, “Brayden. Leave her alone, she tried.”

Alia feels slightly relieved that her best friend stuck up for her, until she hears a laugh.

“Even though that PI-LAW looked like the worst meal ever.”

A tear falls, there’s no way. 

Laughter is now filled around the room, as they continue to bash her food, her features,

and in the end, her culture. What truly makes Alia, Alia. To add on, it seems as if they all haven’t noticed that Alia’s been in the bathroom too long. 

Well, everyone except Logan, who Alia heard, went upstairs to look for her.

“Every time I go to her house, her mom’s cooking something so smelly!”

“It’s sad she has such a good body, her facial features can’t make up for that.”

“Where’s Pakistan, anyways? She probably hates the country anyways, she acts just like us.”

“Red, white, and blue baby!”

Enough,

Enough is enough.

Alia walks out behind the wall quickly and goes straight to get her stuff. Everyone got silent.

Amelia speaks, a slow stutter sputtering out of her mouth, “O-oh, Alia, w-we thought you went upstairs to use the bathroom.”

Alia ignores what Amelia said, getting her purse and her car keys. She turns to Brayden and Mike, scowling.

“I can’t give you both rides back home tonight, my car might smell of my food. Sorry.”

Mike’s face is filled with guilt, but Brayden lets out a smug laugh.

“Awww, don’t take it personally Alia, I still love ya. It’s just... The rice didn’t smell too pleasing, bro.”

Alia walks up to him, and turns to where she’s facing him and everyone else in the room.

“I thought you all were my true friends. You all were so nice to me in the beginning, and I finally felt like I had my own group. However, I dropped a lot of my personal likings to be a part of this group. I straighten my hair to try to look good, I don’t bring this food in the first place because I don’t know how you all will react, and I try way too hard to act like I’m white. I’m not. Sorry. I can’t naturally be what you are. I am Pakistani, and it’s sad that I had to hear all my friends bash me for my ethnic background to realize what type of people you are. It’s sad that this was my last straw, and not the backhanded compliments and statements said to me throughout the years of our so-called friendship. I’m not just ‘“red, white, and blue’”, I’m green as well.”

Alia’s voice booms in the room, even though she is barely raising her voice. Once she’s done, the room stays quiet, and everyone looks at each other. Not one person looks at Alia in the eye, and Alia nods her head in acceptance.

“Y’all will never change.”

She just goes to walk up the stairs. Before she walks up, she sarcastically says, “Happy Thanksgiving, the holiday where we express our gratitude.”

Alia gets to the main floor and grabs the pulao, tears falling down her eyes. She goes to the door before she hears her name. “Alia!”

She turns and sees Logan.

He notices her face and immediately goes, “Are you okay?”

Alia shakes her head, “No, I’m sorry, Logan. I have to go.”

“Ali-”

Alia shuts the door before he could even finish his sentence. The sobs escape her mouth. How did she just lose all her friends, her crush in a span of half an hour?

-

Later that night, she is sent screenshots of her old friend’s Snapchat stories, all of them either calling her out for ruining Thanksgiving or calling her sensitive. She gets messages from the other girls, saying how rude it was of her to ruin Amelia’s event, and leave her in tears. Seriously, it seems like no one cared about what she said in the first place. 

Logan had called earlier, but she didn’t pick up. It seemed as if he wouldn’t know the full story ever, because she wasn’t ready to tell him. Brayden was his best friend, she couldn’t let him lose his greatest friendship, she likes him too much for that.

As she went to sleep, her pillow was tear-stained. However, Alia felt a tiny bit of comfort. She felt the comfort with her Pakistan map over her bed, the Lahori quilt design she was sleeping on, the tiny rickshaw collectibles next to her on the nightstand. For once, there was comfort in her true identity. A Pakistani.

-

“And that’s all what happened. It’s only January, so the pain is a bit fresh, but not too harsh now. I just… kind of miss Logan. I have no other friends either.”

Neha stares at Alia in shock. She never knew how hard it was for her. When she saw Alia, she just saw a girl who somehow fit in with a group of girls who looked nothing like her. However, it’s all changed now.

Neha says, “You do have friends, Alia. You have me, you can talk to Jas again, and we can introduce you to Sana.”

Alia nods, thinking about Sana. “Can I be honest? I never liked her.”

Neha raises an eyebrow, “Why no-”

“It’s because she’s Pakistani, Neha. I was just always jealous of her on how she presented herself. A proud Pakistani. I know I judged her too early, but hopefully I move past this, so we can all be friends.”

Neha smiles, “Duh, girl. You have us. We understand you, we get all the Bollywood references, and we love the food. Even the pulao.”

Alia laughs, glad to finally have a group of friends who understand her. Finally having the freedom to be who she truly is.

Not just a blue passport, or a red, white, and blue flag.

It’s streaked with green, for that’s who she is. A Proud Pakistani.