The Hooded Hijabi

Tick Tock

My mother and I have been pretending like nothing happened the other night because it suits us both; I don't have to feel guilty about being impolite to her and she doesn't have to feel bad about reminding me of my father's absence - his death, to be precise.

I hate it when people keep mentioning all that's missing in their life to get sympathies. So I rarely ever talk about my father.

Also, because talking about him reminds me of the night I witnessed his murder. It reminds me of the wounds that I carry. Ignoring feelings works for me the best, anyway.

"I'll be working at HD Mart starting tomorrow so will be home around ten-ish", informs Ali at the dinner table.

"Why?", I ask, utterly surprised.

"Why not? I think I'm old enough to use a cash register to ring people up. Ease out, Amina Malik", he replies jokingly, though as soon as he's done speaking, his face forms the kind of a serious expression I had never witnessed before. I'm so bewildered by his look that I cannot even come up with a remark.

"I remember you saying Donal will be working with you as well?", mother asks Ali as she fills his plate with a second serving of curry.

"Oh yeah, we have been hanging out quite a lot lately so he thought it'd be 'fun' to work together. But that's just for the summer break. That reminds me, Api, aren't you done with your summer classes?", Ali questions me.

"Not yet. Professor Scott took a break because of his surgery so now we have to cover up his course within these vacations", I reply.

"Tell Rachel I miss her. She hasn't come over in ages", says mother thoughtfully.

"Sure", I say.

"Oh, how's Mustafa? I saw him at HD Mart yesterday but didn't get a chance to go see him. He was gone by the time my interview was over", says Ali.

"Uh huh? He's fine Alhamdulillah."

-------------

"No, YOU'RE lame. Deadpool was awesome", says Mustafa to Rachel who seems to have been arguing over stupid things as usual.

"Oh please! The movie was gruesome", debates Rachel.

I put my books down on the table they're hanging out at and smile at their childish behavior. Mustafa looks up at me rather seriously for a second and then resumes his conversation with Rachel.

I found it a bit odd how he seemed aloof when he had just recently seen me in a state that I had never revealed to anyone but my family. He had almost seen me cry and that just says something.

As we sit and chat, a short-haired, skinny girl comes up to me and informs me, "Sir Scott is looking for you." She walks away before I get a chance to ask her why.

So I head straight to Professor Scott's office out of curiosity. I knock at his door and enter the small, drab room nervously.

Mr. Scott puts down the file screening him from my view and looks up at me over his spectacles. "Ah, come in, come in. Take a seat, kid.", he instructs me kindly. I obey him and tap my feet in anticipation of finding about the issue in hand.

"Miss Malik, did you upload your dissertation?", he asks.

"Yes, sir. Last week", I reply, quite puzzled.

"Are you sure?", he says insisting on the last word.

"Yes, sir. Positive! I remember very well uploading it a week before the deadline so that there aren't any issues later on."

"I need you to understand that we're doing our best to figure out what's going on so please relax, Miss Malik. As per our system, you did indeed upload your essay. However, it was removed from your own account two days later."

I stand up immediately, thunderstruck by the news. "But I didn't even log in my account ever since I uploaded the essay!", I say, wide-eyed.

"Hmm. Look, I know you're in a difficult position at the moment but you need to think of a way out of this now. The submission date ends tonight at twelve so you still have time to upload it. It's just going to take a little while, that's all. I'm sure you have your essay safe somewhere?"

My tensed muscles relax a bit as the realisation hits me that there's still time. I nod my head and excuse myself to get home as soon as possible.

I rush to my room and look for my old, broken-in-a-corner laptop but only end up turning my room upside down. I go to Ali's room and find him making notes.

"Where's the laptop?", I ask Ali, my tone pregnant with urgency.

"Um, i lent it to Donal. His laptop's broken and he really needed it for a day."

"What?", I cry out loud.

"Wha-", Ali begins but I interrupt him.

"You should have ASKED me, Ali! Call him and tell him to return the laptop now. Now, Ali!"

Ali grabs his phone in a hurry with a puzzled look on his face. I bite my thumb nail and tap my right foot while he makes the call.

"Api? He's out of town and the laptop's with him", Ali says with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath to keep myself from taking all my anger out on Ali. "Tell him to email me the file by the name of 'Dissertation final'. It's on the desktop", I say through my gritted teeth while keeping my eyes shut tight.

Ali does as I commanded him and after a minute or so Donal calls him back to inform us that the computer has a virus and just won't work. My knees go weak and I find myself helplessly lying on the cold, wooden floor. Suddenly, the words that I had forgotten flood my mind. "I'll see about your scholarship, you wretch!"

Why would anyone do that? Why! Now was not the time to think of a suspect. I have to do something! Oh God, I should have uploaded a backup file on a cloud account at least! How could I have been so naive! Urgh!

I take a quick look at the wall clock. Seven fifty-eight. Four hours and two minutes until my scholarship slips through my fingers. Seven thousand words with Oscola referencing, bibliography, outcomes and what not in four hours? I picture myself losing my scholarship and a chance to apply for LLM(hons). Tick tock. Tick tock.

<End of Chapter 9>