**Michael's POV**
Winter dance day had arrived, and honestly, I couldn't have cared less. I lifted my curtains just enough to see two beautiful blue birds nestled together. One flew off suddenly, leaving the other behind. The lone bird soon followed, flying in the opposite direction.
Why does life always feel so unfair? The sun, peeking through the clouds, hinted at better days, but I wasn't convinced.
Maybe not for me actually, I didn't think someone with one eye could sweep me of my feet. That beauty beneath the covers that I always beg myself not to touch like she was some purified creature, no she is a purified creature.
It's almost comical how everything I love seems to slip away. I never let despair take over; I keep my helmet of preparation firmly in place.
The sound of the door handle jerked me back to reality. I'll never tire of the scent of my mum's lavender perfume.
"Michael," she called.
"Yes, Rachael?" I replied.
"How dare you!" she feigned hurt.
"Dad calls you that. Why is it a problem if I do?" I asked.
"Your dad is my husband, and you are my son. 'Mum' sounds beautiful coming from my son," she said.
"Yeah, Mom," I replied.
I wanted to laugh or at least smile, but it felt like I had forgotten how. Maybe I was just too wrapped up in my paranoia.
"Michael, your homeroom teacher called. She said the winter dance isn't optional-it's compulsory. And you're not dressed yet," she said.
"I haven't gone in four years. This is the fifth year, and you still have hope. Give me a break," I said.
"Kwame, I know you don't feel like going, but it's good for you. You'll have fun," she insisted.
"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to 'enjoy,'" I said.
"Michael Kwame Williams, you will get up right now, have a bath, look your best, and rock that party. Am I clear?" she commanded.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, scrambling off my bed.
This was Momzilla mode. I didn't want to end up crushed.
"I'll pick out an outfit for you, and you'll wear it as soon as you're out," she said.
"Okay, Mom," I replied.
After taking a shower, I wrapped a towel around my torso, with one cleaning my hair, I think I'll start working on having a low cut I'm tired of long hair, I thought.
My mom had picked out a fancy suit for me. I've always hated suits-they felt like a noose around my neck because of the tie.
I put it on and headed to school.
The first thing I saw blew my mind: Hadizah. She looked stunning, without a trace of makeup, yet effortlessly beautiful. Her dress clung to her body, accentuating her curves.
"You know, if you like her, you could just go up and tell her," a voice jolted me back to reality.
I turned and almost knocked over a table of juice.
"Ethan," I gasped.
"What do you mean by 'like her?'" I asked.
He pulled me away from the loud music.
"You don't have to hide your feelings all the time, Michael. I'm your best friend, and I know it," he said.
"We've been over this. You're not my best friend," I snapped.
YOU ARE READING
𝔉𝔏𝔄𝔐𝔈𝔖.
Spiritual"When a Muslimah with golden eyes and a rebellious eyepatch arrives in London, the city will never be the same - secrets will be shattered, hearts will be broken, and the truth will be revealed."
