Muslim...not really

Chapter 5

'Monotony has become a way of life.'

I think to myself, as I dress for school Monday morning. Pulling an over-sized long sleeved cardigan that says 'Bite me.' over my head, I tied my untamable mane into an unruly bun. Taking a second glance at my reflection, I decide to add a swipe of eyeliner to add a bit of life to my otherwise listless face.
wouldn't want to be mistaken for something that walked off the set of The Walking Dead this early in the week, now do we?
Chuckling dryly to myself, I drudge down the stairs, dragging my feet to the kitchen. As expected, mom was nowhere in sight. Sighing to myself, I fix myself a make-shift breakfast of a cereal bar and orange juice. Munching on my bar of musli-goodness, a smile escapes me at the sight of a bedraggled Rayhan almost crawling on all fours into the kitchen; hair smushed against his forhead messily, drool not properly cleaned off the corner of his mouth, and a crumpled faded t-shirt he was wearing inside out.

Ooh, someone's going to be breaking a lot of hearts today.

Once we were both done, we prepared to leave. Ray couldn't open the door as I was blocking the way searching for my favourite pair of sneakers. He tried to shove me out of the way say "move it, shorty." To which I replied "after you mi'lady" with a flourish. He shook his head in amusement, and just as I straightened up and made my way to the door, he pushed me into a coat rack, and a dozen cloth hangers toppled over me.

. . . .

First Hour: English Lit. A lovely beginning to what I am sure is going to be a beautiful week. By this point, it not even necessary to say 'note sarcasm.'

I for one have accepted the fact that nobody apart from miss rainbow dash really wants to sit next to me. My fate is sealed, might as well just accept it.

Mrs. Simmons walks with huuge smile on her face. Suspicious. Veery suspicious.

"So." She beamed. "Brace yourself, Emaan. Here it comes... "Class, three words. Group. Project. Shakespeare."

Screw my life.