"I am Haniya Nadibun," I began, my voice steady yet filled with emotion. "Like some of you here, I am Berber, and my roots trace back to Morocco."
A hush fell over the room as I continued.
"Family, culture, tradition—and especially my faith—are central to my life. But so is my passion for music, and that passion is at odds with my religion. I'm still trying to figure out how to navigate this dilemma. So please, don't judge me for it. I'm not a hypocrite—I take my faith seriously. This is simply the test I've been given, and I need time to find the best way forward."
The room was silent. Then, Nadia spoke first, her voice warm and understanding.
"We've all been in your position, Haniya," she said. "And in some ways, we still are."
She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Whenever I saw Ashley on social media, I always thought she looked like she could be Moroccan. But I dismissed the idea—I just couldn't imagine a Moroccan girl sharing her beauty with the world like that through music. It's something that conflicts with our faith. But I admire you for revealing Ashley's true identity today, for standing in front of us and admitting your struggle. That takes courage. Just know that whatever decision you make, you will always be our sister. And you will always have our support in choosing what is right."
"I completely agree," Noura chimed in. "And I just want to say how proud and happy I am to know that Ashley—no, Haniya—is one of us."
The teacher, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. His voice was deep, yet kind.
"You came in late, so you don't know my name yet," he said. "I'm Driss Achtouk. I'm Moroccan, just like you, Haniya. And take these words as advice from someone with more years behind him: life will always present you with dilemmas. This won't be the last one. When the time comes to choose, remember this—seek the pleasure of God, not that of your friends, your family, or your fans. We were created by Him, we belong to Him, and one day, we will return to Him."
Something in me broke at his words. I couldn't hold my tears back.
"This is so embarrassing," I whispered, trying to wipe them away. "I'm sorry..."
"It's okay, dear. Let it out," Amira said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Living a double life must have been exhausting."
I sniffled, trying to smile. "I never thought I'd still be loved and accepted if people knew what I had been doing behind their backs. But now... I'm so grateful. So happy to call you all my brothers and sisters."
The teacher cleared his throat, signaling a shift in the discussion.
"Now, before we move forward, I need everyone to hand over their smartphones."
We exchanged uneasy glances as we complied. In return, he distributed identical devices—sleek, unfamiliar.
"These are special school-issued smartphones," he explained. "They function only within the school's network. You won't be able to contact the outside world or be contacted. For the next four years, you will be entirely isolated from society—holidays excluded, of course."
The room filled with murmurs of discontent. None of us had expected this, though apparently, it had been mentioned in the school's application form.
Driss Achtouk didn't seem fazed by our reactions. Instead, he moved on.
"It's time to vote for a class president," he announced.
"What do you all think of Haniya being our class president?" Amira suggested, turning to me with a grin.
"That's a wonderful idea!" Noura beamed.
"I second that!" Nadia chuckled.
To my shock, my classmates all supported the idea.
"But... why?" I stammered. "Until now, I've lived a life where I wasn't true to myself. I deceived my family, my friends, my fans..."
"That's exactly why we need you," Amira said firmly. "You're someone who will always seek the truth and do what's right—even if it means going against yourself. That's the kind of leader we need."
I was overwhelmed. My heart felt light, almost giddy. I loved Amira. I loved Nadia, Noura, the teacher—everyone.
Driss Achtouk smiled approvingly. "You'll have a few days to choose a vice president. It must be a male."
He then turned on the Digi-board behind him, displaying a ranking system.
Class A: 5,000 CC (Class Credits)
Class B (our class): 4,000 CC
Class C: 3,000 CC
Class D: 2,000 CC
Class E: 1,000 CC
"The class with the highest exam scores, assignment scores, and performance scores will earn more credits than the others," he explained. "Over time, rankings will shift. If you work hard, you can surpass Class A. You have a much better shot than the classes beneath you."
He then revealed an even more intriguing detail—students could also rise individually to Class A, or even to the elite Class S, also known as the Classroom of Eden. It had only two seats: one male, one female. Both were already occupied.
I found myself wondering—who were the Class S students?
After wrapping up his explanation, the teacher finally dismissed us, allowing us to explore the school.
"Let's go!" Amira grinned, linking arms with me.
Nadia, Noura, Selma, Farida, Ayşe, and the rest of my classmates waited eagerly.
Just as we were about to leave, Mr. Achtouk's voice stopped me.
"You can all go ahead first," he said. "I need to speak with Haniya in private."