All Boys School

CHAPTER 3

I had classes for the three periods before lunch time. Turned out, grade five students’ weren’t so bad after all. I mean, compared to the obnoxious teens I had to bare in the first period. There were a total of 5 sections, and I had already met with the first two.

It was lunch period and there were two issues at the moment.

1: I don’t have lunch.

2: Where am I going to sit!?

Ugh.

Double ugh!

I am still in the class which I was teaching before the bell rang, peeking outside at the sea of boys crowding the corridor and which is giving me anxiety. What are these seniors doing here? Shouldn’t they be on their floor which is supposed to be the 3rd one, or in the cafeteria which is on the ground floor?

Maybe I should’ve considered this over a few times, thought over it, so that I wouldn’t have to be so stressed right now. What am I supposed to do? Just stay here until the corridor empties out? But what if some creepy dude comes inside and—

Stop.

You’re the teacher here. Stop worrying. All the students shall listen to you.

I am pacing the room when I hear the door handle jiggle and my heart just. . .stops. No pun intended.

When I spot Mehmat from the little glass in the door—my brother who has his brows furrowed and a frown etched on his forehead—I immediately sprint towards the door, unlock the lock, and smile sweetly at Mehmat.

“You locking yourself in a classroom? Not suspicious at all,” he says after getting in and scrutinizing me with his Sherlock eyes. I am always this mystery everyone wants to solve.

I give him a little nudge with my arm. “You know me better than that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he frowns. “Did anyone like, hurt you?”

“What?” I laugh, looking into his big brown eyes. “Not at all.”

He scratches the back of his neck, and glances outside before opening the door for me. Like the real good boy he is.

“Can we sit here and have lunch?” I plead, remembering now that one of my brothers had told me earlier that I was to sit with them in lunch break. But the stunt that I pulled earlier has me really regretting it now.

Is it right then? How boys say girls are stuupidd?

“Not at all. I was ordered to grab you, manhandle you or do whatever it was in my power to get you there in exactly five minutes.” He brings his arm up to check the time. “You have two minutes until I manhandle you out of here.”

“UGH!”

But I give in despite my frustration. When I say it was no less than a torture to walk amongst lame high school boys who just couldn’t keep their too obviously curious eyes away, believe me it was horrible. Especially when I get nervous around too many people.

Do they sell any confidence shots? I need like all of them.

In the cafeteria, I step closer to my brother, all of a sudden feeling creeped out by all these kinds of boys creepy staring at me. Am I staring at them?! Why are boys so lame and dumb!

“There,” Mehmat points at a table standing out from the rest of them. That’s because they are the popular kids of the school. And I almost die when I see that boy I sent out of class early in the morning. The tall, dark, handsome.

“No!” I blurt out, stepping in front of Mehmat. “I can’t go there.”

He raises a sarcastic brow. “Trouble on the first day?”

I shrug, not wanting to tell him what I did.

“Don’t worry about Ahmar. He is a chill dude. Definitely messing with you earlier.” He begins walking again.

I quicken my pace to keep up with him. “How do you know?” God! I hope this Ahmar didn’t make me popular on the very first day!

“He told us. He finds you quite amusing and was saying how he will send his parents to ask your hand in marriage.”

I am gaping at Mehmat’s back, contemplating whether to shed tears of happiness or cry a river out of irritation.

“Hey! You’re in one piece!” Amil yells, pulling me out of my own tangled, a huge mess of thoughts.

Mehmat sits down and I sit next to him. Opposite to us are the triplets. To my left, on the other bench is Ahmar (I just glanced at him) and to Mehmat’s right the bench is empty. I hope who else is there to join the club.

A tray of food is pushed in my line of sight.

“Got this for you, Miss Lina,” comes a teasing voice.

My eyes land on Ahmar. He has that ‘too cocky’ grin on his face, the one that could really backfire sometimes. I wonder if he got those teeth whitened or they just came like that? Maybe it is because of his dark complexion, because dark people usually have extra bright teeth and they don’t even have to do some remedies or spend a penny on their teeth.

“Thanks,” I state, checking the contents of my tray. A plate of fries with ketchup on them. I wonder if he asked my brothers if I like ketchup or not. There’s also a bag of chips, and apple juice which has some condensation going on its box.

“So, were the fifth graders much of a trouble?” Abbud asks, munching on some chips. Everyone diverts their attention to me.

I shrug coolly, trying to not get myself bothered by the presence of Ahmar. And the fact that he cannot stop staring at me. It’s not like I am looking at him to know his eyes are on me, but I JUST KNOW, okay?

“They were fine. Not too troublesome, and just a decent amount of polite,” I tell them, diving right into my fries.

Aadil bursts out laughing. “You sound like you’re telling us about the burger you ate last night.”

The whole table chuckles.

I glare at my brother. “Yeah? The one you ate without my permission?”

“It was less than half if it!” he justifies. “And besides, you already ate my fries.”

“Because you gave them to me willingly!”

Anyhow, the day passed and blah blah. Surprisingly, I didn’t come across this big bad wolf also known as Rehan.

When we got home that day, I was already not ready to go for the next day. To make matters worse, my Dad’s brother and his family were coming over for tea. It’s not like I hold some grudge against them, but I don’t like their son. He just BURSTS into the lounge without even knocking the door first (yes we have a door because I wear a scarf and people are too blunt and don’t care and just come straight in).

I actually like Uncle’s daughter, Zainab. She is sweet and likes to talk with me about her problems because she knows I don’t judge her or tell them to anyone. And, I am pretty sure Mehmat has a secret crush on her.

When I emerge from the shower, Arwa is playing with her hair, trying out different ways to make a messy bun.

“Do you think they’re coming over to ask your hand in marriage?” she asks, looking at me in the mirror.

I flop onto the bed, leaning back on my hands and wiggling my toes in front of me. “Me? Lol no. Uncle Tahir’s wife made it clear she doesn’t want a wife for her son who wears a scarf.” And I remember when she gave me that ‘look’ which silently said how much she hated me. “But, you? Better give your best in making the tea,” I tease, making her roll her eyes.

“Anyway. It’s not like they would do this in the absence of Dad.” She sprayed some hairspray on her hair. Then, spun around on the stool to face me. “How do I look?” she asks, wriggling her eyebrows.

My sister is a makeup freak. She has to buy the most expensive of all highlighters and when a new one comes out she abandons the previous one and gets the new one. Thus, we have a drawer filled with highlighting palettes to the rim.

A dark black eyeshadow is dusted on her eyelids. Her nose looks extra slim which means she did some contouring as well, and a nude shade gloss coats her lips.

“Are those fake lashes?” I question at the sudden thickness in them.

She bats her eyelashes. “Do they look nice? I got extensions.”

“Seriously?” I gape at her. “Where did you get all the money from? Don’t tell me you asked Dad!”

“I didn’t! I took loan from Abbud. Don’t know how, but he has gotten rich all of a sudden.”

Realizing it was foolish to talk to her anyway, I dried my hair, tied them in a bun and threw on my black scarf along with my black Reebok trainers. Except for a chap stick, I didn’t bother to put on anything else on my face and head downstairs to oh so nicely welcome the guests.