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And she has a collection of
red
headscarves in her room, I’ve seen them. I find the whole thing really quite base.’ Mansoureh’s words triggered vigorous nodding.
    ‘She’s perverse. Remember her notebook, the one filled with porn,’ said Narges, referring to Tahereh’s pencil sketches of nudes.
    Even though all the girls in Somayeh’s year were virgins, a handful had experienced illicit encounters, mostly with their cousins, who were the only males they were allowed to be in contact with. Mansoureh and her cousin had fondled each other a year ago, and afterwards she was convulsed with shame. She took the palliative measure of viciously condemning any turpitude she encountered; she was in a perpetual state of disgust.
    ‘I always thought it was weird the way she made such a point of telling us all she didn’t like make-up, it was like she was trying to prove something,
hide something
,’ batted Nika, whose real name was Setayesh, which she had deemed ugly and old-fashioned. Nearly half the girls in Somayeh’s class had adopted names they thought sounded more chic than their own.
    Jealousy quickly turned to outrage, a more palatable and acceptable response. Tahereh Azimi had broken the rules; but more than that, she had done something that they all longed to do.
    ‘And I never saw her with a chador. Well, this serves her parents right, because if they don’t even care if she wears a chador or not, how can they expect their daughter not to turn into a
jendeh
?’ said Vista (real name Zohreh) whose
bazaari
father had promised her a nose job for her eighteenth birthday. Vista’s father sold copper pipes, and even though he did not work in the bazaar itself, he was still referred to as a
bazaari
, which usually meant a merchant with strong traditional values.
Bazaaris
vote according to their personal interests and are never seen as any higher than middle-class, no matter how much money they make.
    Tahereh’s sartorial habits were carefully dissected. The girls concluded her clothes were suspiciously tame for a girl who sneaked into a boy’s house behind everyone’s back.
    ‘Just because you wear a red headscarf or you don’t wear a chador the whole time doesn’t mean you’re a
bad girl,’ Somayeh said, too prudish to use the word whore. ‘She just has different values.’
    ‘Yes,
Western
values,’ said Mansoureh using one of their favourite euphemisms for ‘slutty’. ‘Her parents should move to
bala shahr
, north Tehran, where she can act all
Western
.’ The girls laughed. It was a cruel joke, for Tahereh’s parents were poor and everyone knew they had struggled to keep afloat. Moving to a chichi neighbourhood in north Tehran was about as likely as them buying a second home in Paris.
    Somayeh was as troubled by Tahereh’s behaviour as her friends; she was devout and religious; morals mattered to her. ‘Let’s face it, she dressed modestly, and I don’t think there was any ulterior motive to that. But we’re missing the point here, I think we all agree that having sex before marriage is just sinful.
Very, very sinful
.’ The group cooed their approval.
    Somayeh had a flair for appearing tolerant without sabotaging her own moral reputation. This made her popular with everyone, not just her own kind. Strong principles, a demure appearance and religious fervour meant that the
Hezbollahi
girls counted her as one of their own, and they were always the hardest to crack.
Hezbollahis
are the most zealous defenders of the regime, using religion and politics to ensure its survival. Somayeh never looked down on the poorer girls. Even the
Western-
looking girls who tried to emulate the uptown girls – and there were only a few of them in this school – did not feel judged by her. But Somayeh did judge them. She avoided being seen with them because she was embarrassed of the image they portrayed. Embarrassed that others might think she was cut from the same (inappropriate) cloth. Somayeh believed the