Jamila's Pov
There he is, I don't know if it's his cheesy boy grin or his light brown eyes but something about that boy makes me wanna forget everything I've ever held dear just so he could hold me near...
'I'm telling you Mila, Messi is the best otherwise he wouldn't have won the award now would he?' he spoke and yet I couldn't fully process all he said, I analyzed his face and noticed he slit his eyebrow, he always did say 'If I can't sing like Charlie Puth I might as well look lit and slit my eyebrow like him, maybe then Selena would wanna follow me, write a song, get married and you know build a life with me' (I'm very attentive when he talks okay).
I remembered how I fought him saying how it would not look as good on him as it did on Charlie, especially since Charlie's brow was not a fashion choice (if ya know what i mean). If I had known he would look this good I would have personally, did it for him, his fade cut just match perfectly with his slit brow and don't get me started on his jawline, his lips...
Ding!
The elevator stopped at our floor, and we walked in, 'Were you even listening to me Mila?' he looked at me and pouted, 'Yes I was Frederick, Messi deserved that award?' I ended my sentence with confidence on my face but uncertainty in my voice. He folded his arms which were perfectly build (But then everything about him is perfect to me).'Stop calling me by my full name, you adding a couple of unnecessary years to my name' I watched as he threw a little tantrum, 'Okay then what should I call you?' I looked at him, he got close to my face, I swear my breath hitched every time he did this, 'It's Fred to you missy' he taps my noise with his finger and right on cue the elevator doors opened and he walked out (It's like he intentionally does this to me)...
I quicky fix myself up and follow him, Fred and I walk out to find Themba and my sister arguing, 'Messi is your "G.O.A.T", Ronaldo is mine, can't we just end it as that?' my sister asked seemingly annoyed with Themba. 'No No I want you to admit Messi is better than Ronaldo and...'-'Now I know you are high' my sister cut Themba off, Fred smiled at the two and finally cleared his throat, announcing our presence...
'Oh, if it isn't my beautiful Wife!' Themba exclaimed (Not this again) don't get me wrong this guy is amazingly handsome, it's no wonder him and Fred are friends (beauty attracts beauty and I thought that line was stereotypical and yet here we are). I remember when I first met them, I just imagined them going to parties together and collecting numbers like there was no tomorrow.
Apparently, I was super wrong about that, they actually hated each other (something about a modeling competition that led to Fred losing his ex to Themba). Nevertheless, they made it out, they play football together hence they have the same athletic build (Themba is a bit bigger) ...
'Darling.' I'm snapped out of my thoughts and he is staring right in my eyes, his brown eyes look into mine, 'How many times do I have to tell you, we not married?' I squint my eyebrows as we starred at each other, I hear keys jingle and move out of the way and Themba catches them with no hesitation, 'Tell Neur he better practice harder because I'm coming for his position!' Fred and Themba bump shoulders. 'Uhm..head boy, I personally would love to get to school before the bell rings.' my sister says leaning next to the car...
On our way to school, I had to endure arguments about football but I put a stop to it by connecting my phone with the aux cable. At first my sister and the boys were resisting until I played (The Chainsmokers ft Coldplay - Something like this) we jammed to it and a couple other Coldplay songs the whole way to school, we got some weird looks from the other drivers on our way but we didn't care...perks of being teenagers.
I knew we were getting closer to school when I saw kids in the black ties, white school shirts and black blazers standing near the corner shop. Themba started wearing his white school blazer as we drove through the school gates (The head boy and head girl wore white blazers while the rest of the school wore black blazers).
Fred parked the car and called Frank (his older brother) to come get the car which was convenient seeing as though he worked not to far from school. Frank worked at the car dealership down the street and his shift had to be over. Frank let's Fred drive his car on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in preparation for his driver's test. After school Frank comes and picks us up but only if he is available, which is not a bad deal (especially because he buys us food) and if he can't Uber is our best friend.
We walking the hallways and I swear this school has a way of making every Monday feel like the first day of school. I mean it's expected since Akila and I are the grade 11s that are always with the Matriculants. Akila doesn't like the attention, she tries to hide it but it can be obvious at times. Fred notices that so he always starts small talk or tell really bad jokes to distract her from the whispers and it works (sometimes).
I swear I'll forever be thankful that the Grade 11s and 12s share a hallway because our classes are not far apart. There are eight classes in this part of school, and three classes assigned by the subjects we choose, either you studying Sciences, Commercials or Humanities. Since I'm studying Commercials, I am two classes down from my sister, who is doing Humanities.
Akila and I are almost a year apart, but if you ask my sister, it's 11 months apart (Let's just say mom and dad did not waste any time after I was born). Our mother is from Cairo in Egypt and our father was born in Lesotho, but he grew here in South Africa, Free State to be exact (I know what you are thinking, wow! what a paring).
My mom wanted to make a name for herself without her family dictating her every move, so she studied hard and since she loved the Hospitality sector, she became a flight attendant, and she loved it. She and dad met when dad was in the Ivory Coast on a business trip, according to dad it was definitely not love at first sight because mom was too mysterious for that but (that's a story for another day).
Our parents got separated when Akila and I turned seven, we asked why but the reasoning never really made sense to Akila and I so we never asked again. Mom did not want Akila and I to get separated so she settled in South Africa. We settled in the house we lived in as a family, while Dad and Akila lived in a complex in the safest part of Johannesburg with Uncle Dave and Aunt Lebo.
We went to different schools, had different interests but when we got together on weekends none of that mattered. Before the beginning of high school, Akila and I begged our parents to go to the same high school, I even encouraged mom to go back to doing what she loved while my sister convinced dad to travel again because it was his favorite part of the job.
Mom and Dad agreed and we moved in with Aunty Lebo and Uncle Dave, who later got us enrolled in to Joburg High School (One of the first ever interracial High Schools in Johannesburg). It is amazing to go to a school of mixed races, but it was not always this good.
Akila and I are mixed raced, we have our father's hazel eyes, our mother's hair and her light skin complexion, so we know we are black, but we didn't really look the part. When we first got here, we had people question our but ethnicity thankfully that didn't last long, the looks were still there but we stopped caring and so did they.
Akila and I are different from our interests, fashion senses and personalities. She is more quiet around people we don't know, and I am bubbly (And too friendly but someone has to be). I'm not saying Akila is mean it's just that she is very opinionated and once she doesn't like you that's it, she won't force anything. To everyone else she's a mystery and it doesn't help that she is closed off but to us she is our sarcastic, football fan, music loving and most importantly a loving, caring friend and sister.
I realized I didn't write this note so...
Hey readers this is the first part of Jamila and Akila's story, I really hope you'll enjoy it.
Comment and Vote that way we can get this story out there
Feedback is important to me so please feel free to criticize (Constructively)All Rights Reserved©
Yours Truly
Rea-The-Nugget
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