Rendezvous of a hijabi

Chapter 3• Nasra

The bell rang and every student shot up and shoved their notebooks in their backpacks.

Following suit, I brought out my timetable to find my next lesson.

I didn't notice a girl appear in front of me.

"You ok, girl?" Dark brown eyes enquired in concern, "After how Lanes attacked you, I bet you hate it here. Welcome to County Hall high,"

I laughed at her bluntness, I liked this girl.

"Nah, it's cool the teachers at my last school were way worse so I'll live, my names Safa by the way," I smiled warmly.

"My name's Nasra but you can call me Naz if you want. I don't let many people call me that so be honoured," She rambled animatedly, "Let's see your timetable then, you better be in my next class,"

I took in the girls khaki headscarf and north face hoodie, with her bright mocha coloured skin, she was unmistakably Sudanese.

I fell in step with her excitedly as I realised most of my classes were with her.

"So you already met the infamous Faisal?" She smirked, "Word of advice stay away from him, he may have been nice to you but he's an ass."

I nodded my head and smiled, "Don't even worry, I told myself I was gonna be study driven for the next two years, boys are a distraction,"

Grinning at my forceful tone, she lead me down a winding staircase, "Safa I couldn't agree more,"

We chattered as if we were long lost friends as we entered the art classroom, all my previous nerves escaped me as we both found a seat at the back.

With Nasra by my side, I would be okay.

The eccentric Mr Jensen floated around the classroom in a baggy smock.

"Let the paintbrush free your souls, children," he drawled, "You all are captives of today's society and the only way to escape is to express yourself!"

Me and Nasra burst out into side-aching, tear-inducing laughs.

When I surfaced from my delirious state I noticed 30 pairs of wide eyes watching us.

"DO YOU DARE MOCK MY FREE SOUL!" Mr Jensen screeched, clutching his paint brush to his chest.

"No sir...of course not," Nasra stammered regaining her composure instantly.

The rest of the class sat pin straight, clearly used to their teacher's unstable mood swings.

I hated this negative attention, I wasn't a bad girl. I didn't get into trouble.

What was wrong with me? I knew better than to laugh when the teacher was talking.

As I berated myself mentally, a frantic nudge from Nasra broke my chain of thought.

"He called your name 5 times, what's up?" She whispered quickly.

"New girl, get out of this creative atmosphere," The art teacher pointed a finger at me dramatically and turned around as if my sight pained him, "Your aura is STAINED, I tell you! You can't even listen to what I have to say, GET OUT!"

"But sir...I didn't hear you," I faltered, helpless.

"Principal Ramirez, NOW!"

I grabbed my backpack and quickly walked out the class, hating myself.

I kept walking and walking down the never ending hallway not even sure as to where I was headed.

My eyes stung, what was my mom going to say if they called her?
As a single parent she was already stressed at Hamza's wayward behaviour.

I couldn't take it. I broke down in guilt and crashed next to a set of lockers I had already passed for the 3rd time.

Wracking sobs filled me and I hid my face with my hands.

I couldn't take the pressure anymore, it was too much.