I Am Mariam

•°Chapter 6°•

I know that boy helped me out and all, but this is too much for any human being, Mariam winced, recoiling from the overboard decorations lining the school hall.

The walls were covered in posters and banners, each one featuring a bold image of a mysterious boy in action. The ceiling was draped in sparkling streamers that glimmered and shone in the light, making it impossible to ignore their presence.

Large balloons of vibrant colours were tied to every corner of the room, some of them so big they seemed like they would burst from their own weight. The tables at the back of the hall were weighed down with piles of food, all of which was arranged in a haphazard fashion, as if someone had thrown it all out at once and hoped for the best.

As Mariam made her way through the crowd, she found herself dodging around countless other items that had been added to the décor: neon lights that flashed and lit up the name of the boy featured in the posters, life-sized cutouts of him in his fighting stance, and even rows of small figurines that were set up on shelves like a miniature army.

Despite the clearly well-intentioned effort to create a lavish display, Mariam couldn't help but feel that it had gone over the top. The sheer quantity of items in the hall was almost too much to take in, and she found herself looking at the decorations and focusing instead on the kickboxing tournament about to begin.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the crowd went silent. The tension was so thick it was sliceable. The lights focused on the boxing ring, showcasing every angle and detail it held. Rap music begun, the beats flowing around the room caused the dimmed energy of the audience to perk once again.

"I love you!" screamed a random girl in Mariams ear.

"Marry me!" 

"BEAT HIS A-" the voices were drowned out by the music, which was at its loudest it had been. After the music had reached its climax, it dropped making way for its pride. 

The boy who had saved her.

How on earth did I end up here? Mariam groaned rubbing her ears from the obnoxious fangirling.

Well this is what exactly happened. 

A week into her arrival at this prestigious, rather obnoxious, school, there was news about this infamous boy in their school who had beaten nearly everyone in his kickboxing career. 

This was news for Mariam, but not for anyone else. But what was interesting is that this upcoming tournament had her saviour compete against an unbeatable 30 year old man.

Thats correct, a 30 year old man.

God knows how this school allowed this competition, but when Mariam saw the glittering eyes of the principle, she realised why.

Everyone had faith in this boy.

Well, everyone except for Fabella.

For the past week, this Bangladeshi girl has tirelessly defended Mariam against the racist and hurtful comments they've heard from their classmates. 

Mariam winced at the distant memory.

"Hey terrorist! Go bomb somewhere else like your country," Mark Anderson, the obnoxious boy who harassed her last time yelled in the corridor.

Looks like he still hasn't learnt his lesson, Mariam sighed.

"HEY U WHITE ASS SKELETON!" A short girl yelled from the end of the corridor.

Mark turned around and pointed his index finger towards his stubble.

"Me?"

"Yes you dimwit. If you ever say something like that again ill rip off your leg hair and stick it on your face. At least you'd have facial hair then." 

Laughter echoes in the hallway as the girl's long, ebony hair trailed behind hair.

Once they were far aways he turned to Mariam, her eyes radiant and expressive, a deep brown that carries an air of depth and wisdom. 

At this moment did Mariam realise her new friend was not only kind but stunning

Her warm caramel skin highlighted the soft curve of her cheeks and the delicate arch of her nose. She did her hair in a simple plait, demanding authority. She carried herself with the confidence and grace that comes with knowing who she is and what she stands for.

And Mariam respected that.

But what she did not respect was Fabella's high-pitched screaming when she saw her saviour walk onto the ring, holding his fists towards his face. Mariam's ears ponded, just like the adrenaline flowing in her veins.

The bell rung, signalling the start of the battle.

This was going to be a good fight.