Black Sheep (discontinued)

The New Girl

"Settle down class," a short old woman announced with a British accent that seemed like she robbed from the queen, "I would like to introduce a new student to 9A. You can come in now, Miss At-Tirmidhi."

That was my cue.

*

Albion is a great country. So much so, that back in the Old Era, it was called Great Britain. They had an empire, which demolished itself pretty quickly (a fact many history teachers like to omit) and then had a second chance at literal world domination after it aided the Republican Party of America in their civil war, which turned into a world war. A missile was launched accidentally by the 45th President, and my country was obliterated off the world map. Saudi Arabia was gracious enough to let the survivors of the "Old Country" live in Saudi Arabia, as long as they promised to not do any terrorist stuff. According to my mother, people from our country used to be called terrorists in the Old Era.

My name, Saba, comes from an ancient kingdom located in the Old Country. And for a long time, there was no Old Country. There was only the kingdom of Saba, ruled by a queen who preferred diplomacy over war.

All I remember was when we were evacuated from Saudi Arabia. My father was a prominent politician, and so was naturally killed first. The West then came for his family ; his ailing wife and his only daughter. A gifted young girl who was known to actually help in political affairs, using her strategic might and sense of justice to aid her father. The girl whose teachers loved and adored. The girl who was popular among her classmates for her friendly disposition and dark sense of humor. That girl, was me.

"Miss Saba At-Tirmidhi, please board the helicopter!"

"Where's mother?" I shouted above the roars of the propellers.

"Just get in! Please ma'am!"

Once we had reached Albion, I had discovered that my mother passed away whilst I was at school, and I was to be transferred to a boarding school. What I hadn't discovered, was that it was Haversham High for Ladies, the most prestigious school in Albion.

*

Murmurs of awe erupted from the classroom. I was not much to look at : I had a fairly small bust for a 14 year old, my eyes were black (framed by thin, round glasses) and my skin was a golden brown. My dark curls were concealed by my hijab, and the rather dated school uniform felt like a wrong puzzle piece.

"This, girls, is Saba At-Tirmidhi. She is an orphaned survivor of the Old Country."

"Miss," an obnoxious ginger girl rose rapidly from her seat, "But weren't the people of the Old Country uneducated, and simple minded?"

"Yes, that is right, Daisy, but nonetheless, Saba is a girl with a bright mind and a promising future. We hope that by teaching her Western values, we can mold her into a model citizen, regardless of her background," the small woman turned towards me, "Saba, I am Miss Jones. This is your form, 9A. Can you please introduce yourself."

Calibrating myself, I proceeded to introduce myself, but not before saying bismillah.

"Hi, I'm Saba At-Tirmidhi. I'm from the Old Country. It's a pleasure to meet you." I swiftly strode towards the only empty seat at the back, when I was stopped.

"Hey Arab!" It was the girl called Daisy, "Aren't you gonna curtsy, or do you think you're too important for that? You know it's a custom in Albion?" My sight picked up on a neon coloured notebook with her full name, covered in stickers and unnecessary calligraphy. So she was one of those girls.

"I'm sorry, I don't do that, Miss Ubiquitous."

"How do you know my full name?" She bellowed. Blocking out her primal screams, I set my stuff down, and started to fill my desk. 

My father's conference book. 

A photo of me and my friends from the Old Country. They didn't make it.

My ring, a gift from my mother. She told me that it had been passed down from mother to daughter for millennia, and that before the Kingdom of Saba fell apart, it would be passed down from the reigning monarch to the future queen.

"You Arab! Don't you dare ignore the words and presence of Daisy Ubiquitous!"

Clearly, Haversham was not an intellect's paradise, contrary to what the adverts say about it. And clearly, being the new girl was not as fun or adventurous, contrary to what 95% of TV Shows say, where the protagonist is a new kid in a fancy school. They make friends, have fun, and grow to be a model citizen.

"You must think you're so special, like the Black Sheep in nursery rhymes, who's wool is coveted. Well, newsflash, Black Sheep, you will humble yourself before the esteemed presence of Daisy Ubiquitous! And, you will conform to the customs and rules of this school, and by extension the Great Country of Albion," she then strutted towards me, until I was backed to the wall, a prey trapped by its predator, "Even if it means I have to teach you myself."

The rest of the girls cheered in unison, "Here, here," except a blonde. Her wispy golden strands covered her pale face, and majority of her body was slouched under the desk. A thick, hardback book was at the centre of that desk, with the title in golden lettering : World War 3 - The Jump from Old to New.

A yawn erupted from Daisy, as if she was bored by my torment, and skipped back to her seat.

As long as people didn't know me for who I am, I would always be what they thought of me. A black sheep in a white flock. Destined to stand out. Whether I wanted it or not.