Fighting Against All Odds (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction) [ON HOLD]

Chapter One - Neighbors

The sun shone on my honey-colored skin. People would call it 'tanned', (which would annoy me, of course), but, no, my skin was naturally dark. My skin was like Deepika Padukone's (she's an Indian actress. Google her).

The summer holidays had just started, and nevertheless to say, it was quite boring. There was no one in my neighborhood, to hang out with, to talk to. 'Course I have friends, but all of them are away, on holidays, and I didn't bother to call them. I'm far better off without them.

I glance around my bedroom. I was sitting on the single-cot bed, which had my name in big, blue letters above it 'Myra Powar'. Next to my bed, was a childhood photograph, black and white, of my mom, dad, and me. I was smiling cheekily into the camera, while my mom, was in a pure white Saree, standing next to my gleeful dad. My dad, had an arm on her shoulder, and an arm on mine. The backdrop, is the Taj Mahal, of India, glistening in the sunlight. That day was magical.

Untying my hair from its messy bun, my eyes wander to the rest of the room. My room, was upstairs, and one of the two rooms, in the upper floor. The other, is kind of a store room. My parents' bedroom is on the ground floor, along with the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. My house is the house which appears in the You Belong With Me video...well, almost.

My bed faces sidewards to the huge window, spanning from one end of the house, to another. In front of that, was bluish-purple curtains. Next to my bed, was also a small window, which allows me to see the street of our neighborhood. The huge window faces an identical house to mine (except, its in a different color), which has been vacant for months. In front of my bed, I could have a good glance of my cupboard. The rest of my room was spotless...except for the cupboard.

My eyes wander back to my alarm clock, which had woken me up several minutes ago. 8:22 am. Wrapping the blanket around my body, I touch my newly waxed skin. Some days back, I got my skin waxed, because my mom wanted me to do it, for a marriage coming up of my relative's.

'MYRA!!!' My mom yelled, interrupting my thoughts.

'Yeah?' I shout back. 

'Neeche ajao!' She yelled back.

[A/N: Don't panic. Myra is Indian, and this FanFic will have some dialogues in Hindi, India's main language. I'll translate it.]

'Neeche Ajao' means 'Come down'.

I replied in positive. After washing up, I drag a comb through my black hair, put on clips on my flick, to hold it in place.

Downstairs, Mom and Dad were on the dining table, Dad reading the newspaper, and Mom drinking Coffee (I know it's Coffee cause of the aroma).

'Good morning, Maa, Paa.' I greet. 

They glance up, a smile plastered on their faces. 

'Good morning, beta.' They say. 

('Beta' means Child)

Finding a seat at the table, I pick up a Coffee mug and start to quietly sip it. They exchanged glances, and worriedly looked at me. I looked up, doubtful. 

'Kya baat hai?' I question. 

('Kya baat hai?' means 'What's wrong'/'What's the matter?') 

'Actually...Aaj (means today), some neighbors are moving in.' They blurt out. 

I stop sipping. 

'So...' 

I knew what was coming next. 

'We have to go to their house...and Meet and Greet.' Dad announces. 

'KYUN?!' I scream.  

('Kyun' means 'Why') 

'Myra...Tradition toh hai na. Karna hi padega.' Mum explains. 

(That means 'Its a tradition, right? You have to do it')

Right. Tradition. My parents, love to meet new people, make them feel welcome, share happy and joyful moments. They usually take some home-cooked Basmati rice, and some beautiful Indian curry.  

Me, on the other hand, I hate meeting new people. I'm socially-awkward. I would be happy if this would only exist with cute guys, but no. I cringe, get shy, blush unnecessarily (out of embarrassment), and do something wrong. I don't talk much, and hate thinking that they'll get an impression that I'm rude, or shy. I'm not shy. Just in front of new people. What's worse, Mom knows that, but she forces me, anyway.

Look, you cannot you up to a stranger, and say 'Yo man! Vas happenin'? Ya children okay?'. That would be too much. How do some people do it, will always remain a mystery to me.

Rrrrinnnnng. My father's phone rings and he wanders into another room. I look at my Mom, and she sighs. She knows that Dad works overtime, stressing out. She doesn't like it, not a bit, but it has to be done for the family.

'They're a beautiful family, honey. I've talked with their mother on the phone today morning. She's lovely. They're from the UK.' she gushes. 

'Why'd they come here?' I dare to ask. 

My Mom glares at me. 'Uski Papa ki transfer ho gayi.' she explains. 

(That means 'Their father got a transfer') 

A transfer. To California. One of a kind.  

'They have four children.' 

Four? They'll have to do alot of work. 

'Three girls. One boy.' 

One boy. This will be more awkward. I'm doomed.

Dad comes out, tensed. 

'Kya hua?' Mom asks. 

('Kya hua' means 'What happened?') 

'Uh....Myra. You'll have to go alone, today evening. For Meet and Greet.' 

I could feel my dark brown eyes widening. 

'We have an important job. Me and Mom have to go. Somewhere. Urgent.' Dad explains. 

'Where?' 

'Remember Aunt Sally? She's pregnant. So, we have to go.' 

My Mom jumps up (and squeals) in excitement. Aunt Sally is her younger sister. She and Dad hug. I am happy, for Aunt Sally, but it's bad for me.

'We can go another day.' I suggest. 

'No...it would seem too rude. Tradition.' Dad reminds me. 

'Today, at 6 o' clock you go to their house. They'll be arriving in the afternoon. I'll make Chicken Biryani for them. You can sit and have dinner with them. It'll be fun! You'll see.' Mum enthusiastically tells me. 

'Agar woh veg ho toh?' I counter. 

(that means 'What if they're veg?') 

'Voh log non-veg hi hain. Maine puchliya.' Mum replies. 

(that means 'They're non-veg. I asked.') 

My mom asked them if they're veg or not. Great going, mom.

'So...Settled?' Dad asks. 

I slowly nod my head, digesting the whole thing. 

'It'll be fun! You'll see.' My mom repeats. 

I grudge up a smile and they indulge me in a group hug. It'll be fun? I guess not.