Closer To You

𝟑. 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

I gently knock on the open door of my maths class while I peek my head inside. Whatever discussion was occurring before I came seems to stop, and I notice a dozen sets of eyes trained on me. Note to self: No more slow and deliberate walks in the hallways when I have a class next period.

Mrs Carter is a scary teacher. In normal circumstances, though, she loves me since I seem to listen while she's talking in class and achieve high grades in my maths progress exams. But, at this very moment, I am not feeling very loved. Her beady eyes seem to be staring into my soul as she glares at me, and her head cocks to the side, something I notice she does when she's going to deliver a fatal, sarcastic blow to someone.

To be late to her class is an invitation to murder.

Before I can be blown to pieces, I take a hesitant step into the classroom and clear my throat, which has suddenly dried up, "I'm very sorry for the interruption, Miss, and that I am late for your lesson."

I motioned to the 'mystery guy' whose head was peeking into the classroom, similarly to mine was, and said, "Actually, I was showing around this new student. He said he was struggling to find his classroom, and when I looked at his timetable, I saw that we shared the same class, so I brought him here. Again, I'm very sorry."

I give her a small, apologetic smile.

Mrs Carter seems to assess me carefully while I stand stiffly. A few seconds pass, and she must come to some sort of conclusion because she shifts her eyes to the mystery guy, probably expecting him to say something as well.

I blow out a relieved breath before I, too, look at the 'mystery guy'. His eyes dart all over the classroom while his hands are clasped behind his back.

Poor guy. He looks very nervous. It's not a very good first impression to be put on the spot in Mrs. Carter's class, either.

I clear my throat to grab his attention. And when he glances at me, wide-eyed again, I motion towards the teacher, silently saying to introduce himself.

He must understand because he speaks quietly, "Umm, Hi. I'm a new student at this school. I... got lost on my way here, so I got some help from..."

He looks at me, lost momentarily, as if he just realised he doesn't know my name. But, realising he has stopped in the middle of a sentence, he clears his throat "...Anyway, I got some help, and she kindly showed me to the classroom. I'm very sorry as well."

We stand still while waiting for Mrs Carter to deliver her verdict. The woman probably enjoys seeing her students scared out of their wits, but, as I said before, she is a very scary person, and if we didn't properly argue our case, she probably wouldn't let us in the classroom.

This is a good sign.

She adjusts her small glasses on the rim of her nose as she finally opens her mouth to speak, "Very well then. Since you are new here, I will allow it. But only this once." She trains her eyes on his in an intimidating manner, "It better not become a habit..."

She glances at her open class register on the computer and searches for his name. I also angle my head to have better vision of the computer screen. The mystery guy's name is...

'H...

I squint my eyes to see better

'Ha...

"Hassan Akhtar", Mrs Carter finishes.

I straighten to my original position. Hassan Akhtar.

"And Zahra," I shoot my eyes up to match Mrs Carter's. "It's good to help other students. Well done." She gives me a small smile—if you can call it a smile. Maybe a 'turn of the lip' would phrase it better. "Both of you can sit down. Hassan, find a spare seat."