After Midnight

chapter THREE

High school sucks.

High school boys suck. Actually, boys in general suck. They don’t care about anything. They don’t bother to respect you. Their ego is bigger than their heads.

Long story short, I hate them.

Dad drops me off in front of the school gates and cruises away, not even bothering to say goodbye. I shrug. Fine. He can have it his way. If he wants to pretend I am not his daughter, he  is most welcome. I just can’t wait until I get out of that house and get married.

Here’s what scares me sometimes. What if Harry never asks my hand in marriage? What if he doesn’t want me as a wife? What if his Mom already has someone in her eyes for him.

I shudder.

Maybe I am thinking too much like I usually do. I need to stop overthinking. I tell myself I am strong. I can fight these bad thoughts. If I could fight a boy in fifth grade, I could definitely fight these worries. Or, so I think.

Walk towards the class is never easy. But I stand tall. I don’t let the boys laughing at me lower my confidence. I don’t let their snickers bother me the least. I just focus on my heartbeat and the measures steps that are  taking me to my first class of the day: English Language.

There’s just a few boys filling the back seats. They abandon their conversations when I enter the classroom. One of them whistles and says something rude about my headscarf. I ignore him. Carry on to the seat at the left most corner in the front.

“Nice dress,” a guy we all know as the soccer teams captain remarks. My hands ball into tight fists. My nails dig inside the palm of my hand. Control. Control your anger, Aabirah.

“What’s wrong with my dress?” I blurt, turning in my seat and giving him a venomous glare.

His blue eyes widen in surprise. Did he think I could not shoot back some replies? He probably does.

“Woah, calm down.” He holds up his hand in defeat. I look in the front. 5 minutes until class begins. During those five minutes, I keep thinking about my dress. It’s beautiful. Modest. Most think of it as a long, flowy dress. But it’s not a dress. It’s a jilbab—an outer garment for Believing women so they cover themselves and not attract any attention from the men. I want to give it a try. So, today I did. It had been in my closet for over a month now.

First five periods pass in a blur of events. We get homework. Some more homework, and it makes me wonder what should we do, study for finals or do all this homework that takes hours.

Aaila and I meet up in lunch. After that we have all of the periods together which makes me smile as I spot her waving a hand at me and a tray balanced in the other one.

I give her a sideways hug. “Missed you.” We walk towards the only empty table next to the jocks. They eye me down. I ignore them once again. Sitting opposite to Aaila, I open my blue lunchbox and grab a sandwich, stuffing half of it inside my mouth rather violently. I love food. Way too much. It makes me want to just love it and eat it every day.

“So, Haaris is not here today,” she informs me, cautious, as if I will bombard her with questions. “Did he tell you why?”

I give her a duh look. “On which planet are you living? Don’t you know I don’t talk to him.” Except for some short replies face to face—and no, I am not proud of that. I deal just fine with the other boys in school, but Harry has this—this magnet attached to him which pulls me more and more his way. That’s why I wanted to get married to him soon. Like, in three months.

Aaila shrugs. “Maybe he texted you. I am not saying that you replied back to him. Anyway, why don’t you tell me what your brother is doing here?”

Just as she said that, brows furrowed, my step-brother Adil marches to our table, a box in his hands. I am surprised he has actually dressed up nicely, considering he goes to weddings in basic tee’s and sweatpants. His gray button down shirt fits him too tight, showing off his plenty of time spent in the gym. He wears black jeans and kicks which I gave him on his twentieth birthday—five months ago.

“What—what are you doing here?” I am unable to handle the surprise in my voice. He stands tall, like, his posture actually screams how confident and cocky he is. And when he braces his hands on table on both corners, Aaila turns into a tomato and shrinks back in her seat.

I almost snort.

“Well, hello to you, too,” he smirks his killer smirk, might I add NOT looking at me. He is silently laughing at Aaila’s sudden nervousness due to his presence, and I know this by the sparkle in his eyes. Gosh. He’s such a guy and Aaila is such a girl.

I wave a hand in his face. He slowly turns to me, smiling. “Was that hello for me or her?”

Shrug. “Maybe both?”

“, what are you doing here?” I sigh, wiling myself to calm down. Why are brothers always so annoying? It’s as if they have a gene for being the annoying dudes.

He gestures to the medium sized box resting on the table in front of me. “That’s your birthday gift,” he chirps, enthusiasm leaking from his voice. He moves his neck to the left. Crack. “I have to go out of country to take care of some of Dad’s business.” Head moves to the right. crack. Crack.

“STOP,” I cringe. A shiver courses through me, that kind of bad one that gives you those instant unwanted goosebumps. I hate it when people crack their neck or knuckles. The voice is actually horrific and cringe. Ish.

A low chuckle sounds from him. “Your wish is my command, sweetie. Anyway, I GTG. Something you need?”

I shake my head on a bark of laughter. Something I want? How about he gives me breathing room and STOPS ogling my best friend from time to time. “No, thanks. Though, I would appreciate you not coming back for a loonggg time.” I smile sweetly and he narrows his eyes at me.

I love my brother, don’t get me wrong. I love him enough to not hide my affection towards Harry. Yes, he knows I break the rules imposed on me. And he kind of appreciates me for that, perhaps because he knows what a dominating of a woman his mother is.

“Okayyy. Real sweet. See you in a couple of days.” He kisses the top of my head before giving Aaila a flirty wink and marching away in all his arrogance.

“Gosh. Would you accept me as your sister-in-law?” Aaila gushes with a dreamy look on her face. No—really. I see the want and need in her eyes and it makes me wonder how badly she wants him.

“That depends. Are you willing to have his mother as your mother in law?”

She groans. I feel her. “No way! I can’t ever bear that woman for more than a second. I think I will pass on that option and find me some other guy.”

Thank God. “A very wise decision. Please, Aaila, you don’t want to live with that woman.” A few memories of her hitting me flashes through my eyes—I shudder. “Even if you begged me, I still wouldn’t let you get married in that house. I love you, and your happiness matters a lot to me.”

“Awwn, Aabi!” she takes my hand from across the table and squeezes tightly. Her eyes shine with an emotion that is gone just as quickly as a flutter of lashes. “I love you even more. Come on, five minutes till the bell rings. Lets get going.”

I nod my head in agreement. Getting up, I swing my bag across my shoulder and let my gaze wander around. I don’t see him. He is not here today. Despite the urge to text him if he is doing okay, I command my heart to just forget about him for some time. If Harry isn’t here today, there might a reason. If he wanted to let me know, he would’ve. The last thing I want is to get under his skin. Hopefully he doesn’t already think I cling to him always and every time.

School passes. Boring as usual. I get home and go straight in my room, locking myself in. I made sure to be as quiet as possible, because I am sick and tired from hearing the same crap of Mom. I have noticed as long as she doesn’t know I am home, all is good.

I hop straight in the shower, the hot water instantly calming my nerves that were all over the place. I take my time to massage the shampoo in my hair and scrub my body. I don’t use a razor on daily basis, because who is there to impress? Perhaps once or twice a week. Maybe I will switch to waxing after getting married.

Anyway. That thought is for later.

Once back inside my bedroom, I throw on some sweats and a basic white tee, and let my hair be air dry since my hair gets all crazy after I blow dry it. I learned over the years that if a YouTuber’s hair is all sleek and straight and perfect after blow drying, that doesn’t mean people who watch her also get the exact same results.

By the time sun begins to set, I pray Maghrib and slip inside the cool, crisp sheets of my bed with my laptop perched on my thighs. I log in into my sss and SHOCKER, there’s an email from Harry.

To: Aabi33@gmail.com

From: harrysayshi@yahoo.com

Subject: sensitive (lol)

Hey. So. I know you don’t like when I text you something, so my sister gave me this brilliant idea of emailing you, because according to her it’s cool, and there are chances you won’t feel guilty about it. Ish? Taking it’s you, you’d probably still feel guilty.

Anyway.

I am coming over at midnight. Oh—wait. Lemme rephrase that: I am sneaking into your room tonight. Pack a bag. Clothes, your essentials, things you’d need on a trip to some hot country. Don’t just start bombarding me with questions just yet.

A side note; I hope you can jump from your window. I’ve done that before, and I must say, it’s not nice.

P.S: Do you like henna?

My heart is fluttering inside my chest, trying to break free. Happiness explodes inside me, and in what feels like forever, I actually laugh while tears flow down my cheeks. I shouldn’t get to conclusions. I know I shouldn’t. But—but I know he is going to propose me. And that makes me want to just scream and yell and do a happy dance.

I don’t waste a second before jumping off the bed and sprinting into my tiny area known as the wardrobe. I grab a cosmetic bag I got from miniso and put in some bathroom essentials and some girl stuff. Then I yank down a bag from the top shelf and stuff inside some clothes, the entire time a big goofy smile spread across my face.

I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it is finally going to happen. I don’t think about my family. I don’t dwell too much on how or what they would be willing to do. I just focus on the thrill of joy and Harry the entire time.

And then just like that, midnight strikes.

And then comes the creaking noise of my window sliding open from the outside.