Her broken soul

Chapter 10: A sketch.

There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.

                                      - John Green

Arsala's POV

Yola scorching hot sun every summer is my worst nightmare. The fact that I have a sensitive skin doesn't help matters. I always end up with skin rash or sunburn.

I'm seated under a hut garden just outside the school cafeteria. Its 3:45pm, I just finished offering my Asr prayer and my next class starts by 4:45pm and ends by 6:15pm.

I'm with my sketchbook, sketching something. Believe me, I have no idea as to what I'm sketching. I'm just sketching a picture of something I have on my mind but its with a blur view. With my headphones on my ear, I'm cooed in a little world of my own.

I find myself humming and tapping my feet against the gravel stone. Its a Spanish song, It fits right with bachata dance. Bachata is a dance and genre of music originating in the Dominican Republic.

I'm into anything that has to do with culture and that's why I'm into bachata.

Don't let them tell you its over girl!

Still tapping my feet I took off the dark sunshades I have on. Why does what I'm sketching looks familiar?

I will be your man overboard!

I carry on sketching with the bachta song still playing. It serve as a motivation for me to keep sketching.

"Done!" I mumble to myself. Pressing a button by the side of my headphone, I pause the song.

What I sketch was a pair of eye, which makes no sense to me. Though the eye looks familiar, I still can't tell who's eyes it is. I have been staring at my sketch for quite some time now and nothing comes to mind.

I tore out the page, fold it and randomly place it between some page in my sketchbook. On a clean page I begin sketching a the flower in front of me. Which is in the center of the hut. 

listening to something different yet nice I continue tapping my feet against the gravels. Getting the details I need to make this sketch a masterpiece is a bit harder than I thought...

"That's really beautiful." Even over the music I'm sure I heard these words escape someone's lip.

"You don't look like someone who would be so good at sketching."

That's Imran's voice.

I quickly turn around and saw him standing behind me. His height hovering over me, I pull down my headphone. He walks over and sits next to me on the bench. With a considerate amount of space between us.

"Are my talent supposed to be written on my forehead?" I question him.

"That's not what I meant....."

"You also don't look like someone who'd be the nosy type but guess what you're." I interrupt him before he could finish.

"I'm taking that as you indirectly saying you are pissed off at me for snooping around." He gently puts down a tumbler on the bench.

I love the tumbler, a black tumbler.

With an expressionless face, I stare blankly at him. I still don't understand him or his personality.

"Arsala!" He calls out my name in a soothing voice.

"Um....." I reply without thinking, this is becoming a reflex action.

He needs to stop calling me by my name.

"My apologies for looking at your sketch without your consent." His voice bears a apologetic edge.

All this while I'm still busy thinking about the way he calls my name. I sat still silent as I'm still in a different world.

"Arsala........I'm forgiven?" That soothing voice again.

"Yes absolutely!" I sharply reply him.

What is wrong with me?

"Okay thanks." He leans back on the bench.

We both sat in silence, an awkward silence. I finish up the touching part needed to complete the sketch.

"Here!" I hand the sketchbook over to him.

He took he book but a bit confuse and uncertain.

"This is so beautiful!" A smile made it way to his face.

"Thank you." My eyes catch a dark skin dude walking towards us.

"You......"

"Who is he?" I ask having a feeling the reason he is approaching us is Imran. Because I know I haven't met his acquaintance before.

The second Imran's eyes collide with the guy, his smile is replace with a frown.

"Numan.." His tone bears a distasteful edge.

"Ignores whatever question he asks you." He whisper to me before Numan got to where we sat.

"Hey Imran!" His loud voice announce his presence.

"Na'am." Imran force a smile.

He look my way, pretending he didn't notice me even before he approached us.

"Hello." He wave his hand at me.

"Hi!" I wave back at him.

"What are you two doing here alone? Don't you guys have any class?" He asks.

This dude is really nosy? So much so he is asking questions he doesn't deserve answers to?

"Oh well, you know we are just writing down people's destiny." Imran voice lace sarcasm.

"You don't have to be sarcastic." A frown made its way to Numan's face.

"Just come sit here." Imran took his tumbler off the bench.

"I'm going to write your destiny making sure you end up with that your crush. Maryam right? That's her name." He motions for Numan to have a sit.

A small chuckle escaped my lips but I quickly turn it into a fraudulent cough. Both Imran and Numan look my way, Its becoming really hard to suppress my laughter. This side of Imran is new to me.

Numan's face heat up with embarrassment.

"I think we would just meet up later in the dorm." He quickly excused himself.

"Hey Numan......" Imran is trying to get his attention but he is already walking away as fast as he could.

The second he was far away so much that he wouldn't hear me laughing. I let out the laughter I have been holding in.

"Did you really had to so sarcastic with him?" I ask in between laughter.

"He feels like I have to give him an update on my life every time we meet." He chuckle softly.

"The look on his face was priceless." I held my tummy still laughing my heart out.

Its a bit hard to believe that under that annoying personality of his he could still be so funny.

"This is actually my first time." His eyes are fixated on me.

My laughter slowly fades away. What's his first time?

"What's your first time?" I asks.

"Its my first time seeing you laugh so hard." Placing his elbow on his kneel and using his hand to support his chin, he stares at me this time with so much intensity.

"You usually have a blank look or a frown on your face." He continues.

"Why aren't you always smiling when you look beautiful doing so?"

I sat there staring at him like what he is saying made no sense. More like he is speaking Swahili and not English.

"Can I have my sketchbook back?" I ask, trying to avoid his question.

"Why aren't you always smiling?" Handing the sketchbook back to me he asks.

"You don't expect me to go around smiling like a clown." No doubt my tone sounds quite harsh.

I didn't mean to be so harsh with him, its not like he meant any harm. I just don't have an answer to his question. I barely even notice I don't smile that much.

"Actually I was expecting you to say something like this."

"Thank God you know I still don't like you, now stop asking......."

"Why? Why don't you like me?" He asks, interrupting me.

"Do you like me?" I ask, after some seconds I realize how my question could be taken as something else.

"I meant......"

"I understood what you meant and no I also don't like you so the feeling is mutual." That smirk of his is already playing on his face.

"I'm not surprise even in the slightest but still why don't you like me?" My curiosity is getting the best of me.

"Because you're so unpredictable but I think I'm getting a hank on you and your personality."

"That's the most stupid reason I have heard all year." I'm not kidding, it really is stupid.

He chuckles out loud. "Why is it stupid?"

"I have class right now, so maybe some other time I'd answer your question." I put my pencil and sketchbook back into my bag.

"Okay, at least tell me why you don't like me."

"You were a complete a*s to me when we first met and you called me bitter. That was actually really hurtful but I'm use to people calling me names." I stood up dusting any dirty off my abaya.

"I'm sorry about that, I was being stupid when I said that."

"Its okay.......see you around." I took a few steps, walking away from him. Then the voices in my head kept on pushing me to ask him that question again.

"Imran!" I stop in my tracks and turn around to face him.

"Na'am!" He reply, giving me his undivided attention.

"Why do you smoke?" I quickly ask before the confidence I feel right now fly out the window.

All his face had is a blank expression. "Well......" He starts out.

"Back then in high school most of my friends smoked. One day I was dared to and I haven't stopped ever since." He massage his neck nervously.

"Okay but are you an addict?"

Why I'm asking these questions? I have no idea.

"No, I'm not." He nod in response.

"Okay...thanks for answering my question."

"You're welcome."

I turn about to leave, then I recalled one more question I still need to ask.

"One more......"

"Go for class Arsala!" He reply sharply, interrupting me.

The second the words escape his lips. I began giggling, I ask too many questions.

"Come on just one!" I plead using my puppy eyes.

"Go on.." He chuckle a bit.

"What's your last name?" I ask. I still need to know if he is the Imran I have to mail.

"Weird question." He gives me a questioning look. "But its Sadiq."

So he is the Imran Sadiq Khan Mr Josh asked me to mail.

"What your last name?" His voice pull me out of my thoughts. 

"I'm not telling you."

"What the........but you just asked for my last name and I just told you." A look of disbelieve is written all over his face.

"You willing told me, you weren't forced." With that, I excuse myself and head to class.

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