Let me tell you, the next day didn't go as bad. I got an idea of what my year would be like the day before and set up my dream board. Fancy, uh? If you looked at it the way I do, you'd see goals and achievements, pros and cons, et cetera, et cetera, but if you were a bystander passing the dream board, it would look a lot like magazine cutouts and strange highlighted squiggles.
Anyway, continuing...
After busting the Crack out of my high school best friend, we got back to catching up on the previous years we spent apart. After high school I filtered out of the social circle. Turns out, she did the same. She studied in the teaching industry and started teaching English in Saudi Arabia. Which explains her newly framed hijabi face. She saw the beauty in Islam and decided that she'd wanted to learn more. And she needed to learn more Arabic to continue teaching. But was quite clever with the naming system. She went from Emma to Ammatullah. Not much changed, right ? Who ever said blondes were dumb, haha ? No? Okay.
Emma and I made plans to meet at the park-- or town center piece-- after school, at least until she called me to say that she had changed her mind. Because she was hungry. Luckily for me, however, I took the car this morning. Yes, I'm talking about that four wheeled, maroon-ish, double sized, ruggedly handsome, and mysterious car my mother leaves in the garage because she doesn't see its beauty. If it were a guy, the world would have been an even better place. Did I forget to mention that it smells like candy land in there ? Probably... Now you know.
Emma was already waiting for me when I got there. But, of course, she acknowledged my presence by putting her waiting hand on the door handle and typing faster with the other.
"Hello to you too, poopster!", I yelled plastering my 1000 watt smile on and pretending not to notice her phubbing.
"Yeah, hey. Salaam...", not even a glance.
"Where do you want lunch?", I asked even though I already knew. She wanted to go to the Grease themed restaurant down on main street, somewhere between town and Victoria street. Joe's diner. Legally, the first halal Joe's Diner in the city. They serve everything from breakfast and lunch to dinner and desert, but obviously these all have their time slots. Between 1am to 5:59am all coffee is on the house. At 6am to 9:30am, you get a complimentary bran muffin with each cup of coffee that counts as more than your second coffee (Joe clearly understood how tough getting out of bed was). Thereafter, it's breakfast till 12, their burgers and deep fried things are served all around the clock as well as their deserts, and dinner is at five. For dinner, the menu changes to various things. Mexican, Indian, Chinese, you get the point.
I parked my truck as close to the restaurant as I could. Emma pulled a pink sequined bag out from under the seat. I just looked at her.
When she finally put her electronic obsession down and caught my stare, "A change of clothes, F-Z. Get with the program!", was all she said before jumping out and speed walking to the restaurant's lavatory.
Yeah... that's right. You better run, chicken little...
Before getting out, I pulled my bag with a spare set of clothes out from out from under the seat. Hypocrite? Noo, I decided that one can never be too careful after yesterday's little incident. I pushed the button for the car to lock itself and headed to the toilet myself.
****
When I burst through doors, Emma had already chosen a booth and her clothes had been swapped for a purple-pastel, silk shirt and cotton skirt. I swapped mine for my favorite black cardigan that stretches down to just above my knees, lengthy David and Goliath tee and jeggings. I slipped into the booth and tapped the electronic menu built into the table.
