All Boys School

CHAPTER 2

My earphones are jammed in my ears. I see everything, but I only hear the verses of the Quran in my head. I don’t know what conversations are going on in the car, nor do I care what my brothers are laughing about.

The familiar building of my brothers’ school comes in my view of sight, and I resist the urge to groan. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do something for Dad, but teaching a bunch of fifth graders? That doesn’t sound so exciting at all.

I take out the earphones from my ears and put them in my backpack that perfectly matches my outfit.

For my first day at this all boys school, I decided to wear something classy and comfortable-ish. Heavy on the ish, though.

My black converse low tops go with the black scarf I am wearing on my head, which also covers some of my back and front. I wouldn’t exactly call my blue jeans ‘cool’, but I love them for giving me comfort. And, the black striped shirt is from my sister’s closet. And, on top of everything, I threw on my black oversized coat that reached below my knees.

Pretty classy, right?

“Okay. Lets set some rules here,” Aamil, my brother says as he parks the car in the parking lot. I notice that the lot is full alreadys—and just then I hear a faint ringing of the school bell.

“Are we late?” I deadpan, glaring at Mehmat who just passes me a grin, shrugging as if its no big deal.

“We’re the popular boys, Lina. We have to be late,” comments my other brother, Abbud.

Abbud, Aamil, and Aadil are the triplets, and no, they aren’t identical. Or so I think? I can pretty easily tell them apart, maybe just because I am their sister. Anyway. So they’re the ‘popular’ kids of the school, 18 year old adults who act like 5, and every girl that sets her eyes on either of them drools without shame. I actually feel pretty bad for my other brother Mehmat, who likes to read a lot, thus the big round glasses that rest on his nose, and he didn’t get the looks like the triplets.

I still love him more than the triplets.

“Lets see how popular the three of you are,” I challenge, getting out of the car, and slamming the door shut of Aamil’s black Range Rover. Our Uncle had gifted this to the triplets on their birthday, but since Mehmat was the only one who passed his drivers test, hence only he can drive it.

Mehmat (he is seventeen) comes to stand by me. He easily towers me, so I have to crane my neck and look at his defined face.

“Going all protective here?” I raise a sarcastic brow.

He shrugs, his pretty chocolate brown eyes narrowing at me. “You could say that. Just be careful from the seniors. You don’t want to cross their path.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking around the parking lot. He is the most shy person out of us seven siblings. And I wouldn’t blame him. Something pretty bad had happened to him years ago which really messed up with his confidence.

“I am not afraid of some lame high school boys.” Liar. I am actually a lot nervous than I want to admit. But nervous isn’t called being afraid.

The rest of the boys circle me.

“Ready to go, sweet pea?” Abbud asks, staring down at me.

“Yes.”

“But first the rules,” Aadil adds in, making me roll my eyes.

I listen patiently to their rules.

Aadil: Don’t talk to any senior. Not without any solid reason.

Abbud: You are going to sit with us during lunch break.

Aamil: Never accept any food from the boys. And always check for any signs of glue on your chair. Pranks are a daily routing here.

“Okay, okay. I get it,” I sigh, crossing my arms. “Can we go now? We’re already pretty late.”

“You forgot the most important one,” Mehmat whispers, gaining everyone’s attention. He meets my eyes hesitantly. “You can’t ever make yourself known to Rehan.”

Everyone else nods in agreement with a serious face.

“Okaayy?” I draw the word, feeling slightly confused. “Dad gave the same warning. He must be a real douche then.”

Mehmat grins, swinging an arm around my shoulder, just as we all begin walking together.

“Welcome to All Boys School, Lina.”

Mehmat left me at this door. I stare at it. It could be the management’s office? I have no idea since it says absolutely nothing. The hallways are quiet, and who would be surprised? I am practically LATE. God, I don’t even know what a fish market my class would be right now.

“Excuse me?”

I jump at the sound of a—male. Wow, shocker. He stares at me with a twinkle in his eyes, smiling brightly as if waking up at six in the morning comes naturally to him.

“Yeah?” Yeah? You’re not being professional at ALL.

He chuckles deeply. When he folds his arms, those biceps flex in his not too tight dress shirt. I made that not too tight reference because guys LOVE to show off how much they work out by wearing shirts too tight which makes them look super ripped.

Just saying.

“This is my office,” the male nods behind me before meeting my eyes again. I notice how strange his eyes are; the lightest shade of blue, and kind of compelling as well. Maybe that’s why I could only see his lips moving but now hear anything he is saying.

His lips stop moving.

I blink.

“Sorry what?” I ask with a nervous chuckle. What an i***t I am! Not only is this religiously wrong, but I can’t just go around falling in love with random strangers merely for their beauty!

“Are you alright?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” I reply quickly, looking away from his light beard. “I just wanted to get my timetable. I also think I am late.” I know I AM late, but why should I tell him that?

“Are you Mr. Abdullah’s daughter?”

“Er, yes.”

I watch his eyes widen as if he has seen a ghost.

“Oh, uh, alright. Please follow me in.” Any trace of smile that was on his face is gone, and he doesn’t waste a second before sidestepping me and going inside the office.

Frowning, I follow him inside and shut the door behind me.

The office is small, with only a desk, two chairs in the front, and one in which he sits behind the desk, looking all bored and irritated.

Uh, I am sorry, but. . .did I OFFEND him in any way? Hence this change in the attitude? I’m sorry, but WHAT is his problem?

“Here,” he takes out a paper from the desk drawer, and all but throws it in my direction. “I have assigned a student of mine to show you around the school.” He checks his watch. “He should be here any second now.”

I wait, for what seems like forever for this so called student of this so called too faced man whose name I don’t know, and just when I am about to argue, someone bursts into the room.

“Dude, sorry I am late,” a familiar voice pants.

Eyes wide in horror, I gape at my brother.

He smirks. “Did you really think I was gonna let some random guy show you around? You know me better, sis.”

“Please talk outside,” the rude man remarks, glaring at the two of us.

Outside, I take all my frustration out on Abbud.

“Why didn’t you warn me before that this man is so frustrating! He was fine with me for 2 minutes, but when he got to know I was Mr. Abdullah’s daughter, his temperament went downhill so damn quick!”

Abbud laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulder and leading me to God knows where.

“He is weird, trust me. His name is Sunny, which I am supposing is a nickname and nobody knows his real name. Can you believe that?” We turn left down the hallway.

“I hope I don’t have to interact with him for more than a millisecond,” I admit grumpily.

He nods his head like a real good boy he is.

Sarcasm. It was sarcasm.

Abbud and good don’t come in the same sentence.

After a few turns, we stand in front of a classroom door through which I can hear the muffled voices of boys coming from inside. My heart skips a beat when I read what the board says.

A2-room 3

“This isn’t grade 5!” I panic, turning to Abbud who looks amused by my sudden fear.

I am here to substitute for grade five! FIVE and not grade thirteen!

Abbud chuckles at my reaction. “I know. The psychology teacher is absent today, and since your first period is free, you have to substitute here.”

“But that’s not fair! I am here to teach maths to grade five.”

“That still makes you a teacher so you have to do what other teachers do. Like, substitute for their colleagues,” he smirks. “Come on now! Stop sulking!” He stares into a space for some time, the wheels of his head turning.

He grins, looking between me and the door with mischief in his eyes.

“What?”

Before I know what’s going on, I am being dragged inside the classroom despite my attempts to break free from Abbud’s death grip on my hand.

The whole room falls silent, not even a whisper of sound could be heard.

My eyes are fixed on this traitor, and in other words called my brother by blood. I don’t dare peek anywhere else, for I can feel the eyes burning holes in my head.

“Hello, dudes! This is my little sister, AKA your new sub, so if anyone of you flirts or even talks to her, then you and I are going to have a talk,” Abbud threatens in what could be called the politest way ever.

I lower my gaze, cheeks on fire.

“Damn, Abbud. We didn’t know this was your sister,” someone says from the crowd. The whole class snickers.

“Yeah, well, now you know so keep your distance,” my brother snaps, an edge to his voice.

This day has just started, and already I wanted to call it off, get in my bed, and become a slave to sleep. How did I not think that if one teacher was absent, the free one would have to substitute? How am I such a fool?

Abbud appears in my vision of sight, light brown eyes staring into mine, concerned and all.

“If you want help, I will just be in the other class on this same hallway, okay?”

I nod, giving him a forced smile. “I will be fine.”

He buys my lie and grins, giving me a quick hug before going out of the class.

And leaving me alone.

I slowly raise my eyes. The panic from earlier is still swimming in my bones when a new set grows again. Every boy in this room is staring at me. Some amused, some curious, and the rest whispering to their partners with their eyes on me. But there is one boy sitting at the far end corner with a bored expression on his face. He isn’t looking at me, and as if sensing my gaze on him, his gaze whips to me, icy and hard.

I am forced by his intensity to look away.

Time to introduce myself.

“Hi, um my name is Lina Abdullah, and um you can call me Lina or whatever you wish.” They might have thought I was a bit more prepared, if I hadn’t given off that nervous chuckle, and my voice wouldn’t have sounded weak.

A guy sitting in the front row raises his hand.

“Yes?” I ask nervously.

His lips curl back in a smirk. “By whatever, you mean I could also call you my girlfriend?”

Everyone laughs at his comment.

“Or we could also call her ‘Miss little sub’,” the one next to him mocks.

My fists curl into tight balls at my side. There’s one thing I feel like everyone new should know about me: if you annoy me, you better be ready for what is about to come after you.

“Get up,” I snarl, crossing my arms and walking closer to those two guys who have their eyebrows raised in question. It’s like they never expected me to raise my voice.

Honestly, I myself have no idea where I got this sudden boost of confidence from.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get up. Both of you.”

The one who gave that girlfriend remark scoffs, rolling his dark eyes. He leans back in his seat that also somehow causes his biceps to flex? Or maybe he just did that on purpose, because well. . .high school boys. From his dressing, he looks like he comes from a rich family. You know. . .leather jackets and all that.

“So, now you’re going to give us orders?” he challenges, staring at me. I hold his gaze too, not ready to back away. If I want to survive these three months here, I need to stand my ground.

I don’t try to keep out the bite from my words. “Well, last I checked I am your substitute teacher for this period.” And hopefully never after this would I have to step in here again. “So, get up and leave the classroom this instance.”

Sudden ‘gasps’ and ‘oohs’ and ‘damns’ fill the room.

‘Won’t you ask my name first, Miss Lina? Looks like you’re new to this field,” the same guy grits, anger flashing in his eyes.

‘Sounds like you’ve been asked to get out quite a few times’ I want to yell in his face but don’t. What am I doing arguing with a high school boy? Come on, Lina. You know better than that to fight with a bunch of—these creatures.

“Whatever your name is, I don’t care. All I know is that you and this,” I wave a hand at the boy beside him who looks like he is regretting saying what he did earlier, “person to leave my classroom. And don’t make me say that again.”

“His name is Ahmar,” someone throws his name at me from the back.

The guy—Ahmar—as I now know (I can give his name to the principal for being rude to a teacher—sort of) draws in a calming breath and mutters something under his breath. He is probably cursing, and honestly I don’t care about that either.

When he stands, I am in awe of how tall he is. Kind of. He is easily taller than 6’2 and his dark skin makes is hard for him to not give a ‘I am a bad boy for sure’ vibe. He takes slow measured, calculated steps in my direction, while me? Pfft. I am totally not sweating at all. Nope. No sweat.

What is even sweat? I don’t know.

He stops barely an arms length from me, and tilts his head to study my face. I am madly hoping he doesn’t see my hitched breathing, because oops. I was definitely not breathing normal, and I knew he knew that.

“You don’t know who you just messed with, kid,” he whispers coolly, but I am starter to detect his double meaning to the sentence.

‘You just messed with a bad boy and now I will take sweet revenge from you’ was probably what he wanted to say.

He leaves the classroom. The door slams and I jump a little, wondering why I had to make enemies on the very first hour of my very first day.

The other guy whom I asked also leaves quickly, leaving me and a shocked classroom all alone.

I rub my palms together, hoping to get some warmth in them. They all are looking at me as if I am supposed to say something? Maybe I am?

I don’t know!

“You guys can do whatever you want to. Just please don’t make any noise,” I tell them before sitting in the teachers chair with my gaze lowered.

After a few seconds I start hearing hushed whispers.

After another few seconds a figure comes to stand at my desk.

I look up at him.

I know you all might think I am EXAGGERATING, but those eyes. . .they are just something else. I am sucked into another world when I look into them. Blue, but not just your random boring blue. Not even ocean blue. His eyes are a blue like that of the sky on a sunny day. They’re inquisitive, hypnotizing and strikingly beautiful.

“Do you want anything?” Uh, my voice sounds pathetically weak.

He pushes his golden hair away from his forehead. It’s weird for someone in Pakistan to have golden hair, and I know he hasn’t died them because his long lashes are also golden.

“Just what do you think you are doing?”

I—

“What?”

He rolls his eyes as if he is dealing with the stupidest person on Earth. “Casually sending students out of the class? That’s a dumb move, Lina.”

First of all, I salute his braveness to call me by my name. Does he not see I am a teacher here? And secondly, am I really going to take advice from this gorgeous man with eyes even more gorgeous and—

Stop.

“And you are who?”

His smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “None of your business.”

Wow. “Look, I don’t get what point you’re trying to make here, but unless you want to end up outside with those friends of yours, I will ask you nicely to back to your seat.”

“Ask.”

“What?”

Bracing his hands on either side of the desk, he sighs, dropping his head for a second before looking up at me again. “Ask me to go. No, actually beg. Beg me to go. And I will go.” And there I see it, the mischief dancing in his eyes.

“I think you are not a morning person,” I scoff. “Or you haven’t had your morning coffee yet. Whatever it is, it’s definitely messing with your head.”

Lina, what the heck are you doing talking to these boys! My inner voice yells at me.

“Beg, and I will go,” he repeats, holding my gaze.

Our argument comes to a stop when the bell rings and the boys all but run from the classroom.

Not all.

He is still staring at me. If I am not wrong, I think he is trying to figure me out just as I am trying to see a way to get out of this situation.

“The period is over,” I state.

After what seems like forever of a staring contest, he finally leaves the room.