Muslim...not really

Chapter 2

 An awkward walk through the corridor and a trip to the office, graced by the presence of an overly sweet and unnecessarily sympathetic secretary later, I finally found my way to calculus class.

You’d think people would actually be elated, apprehensive, excited or at least happy at an opportunity in a new school, a chance at a fresh chance full of endless possibilities. But no, not me. It’s not because I’m too cool for it, nor is it because I am emotionally desensitized. Au contraire, it’s just that at the moment there is nothing I’d rather do than impose solitary confinement on myself and curl up on my very own bed in my very own house. Alone. With my copy of ‘the Hunger Games’. Munching on cheez balls. 

So maybe I should probably stop complaining about the tragedy that is my life and try to focus on what is going on around me.

Hm. So I’m sitting here in a spacious, albeit full classroom with a disgustingly joyful bunch of classmates who seem oblivious to my existence.

Not that I’m complaining, cause that’s just the way I like it.

 Naturally, there are the bunch flirtatious giggling girls who act like toddlers let loose in a candy store. There’s a lot of batting of eye lashes, fake laughter, and horrible jokes in over-accentuated sophisticated accents going on. It would seem that no matter the school, country, or continent, some things never change.

Expectedly, I’m sitting in a corner of the room in the last seat of the last row, and wonder of wonders; I’m the only one in the class without a partner. You’d think someone at least would get attracted to my magnetic personality which has been so well portrayed on my face since I stepped into class. Heh, so the hours I spent on practicing all the expressions i could think of which would, hopefully, put off those people i like to call 'social rainbows'; those nauseously cheery types who just can’t leave a person alone hasn't gone to waste. Yes, I'm pretty pleased with myself right now.

Oh look, our teacher just walked in, beaming at the sight of her new batch of students for the year. Okay, so WHY is everyone in the room so freaking happy?! All this happiness in the air is sickening.

You know, I’m turning into a promising candidate for a prospective career as a dementor, except I’m not sure they earn that much financially.

Although, there is a considerable amount of self satisfaction involved, i must agree. 

Note to self: check up on the annual salary rates of professional dementors per annum.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Class is in progress and halfway through when a bundle of blue and pink chiffon bursts in through the door. On closer examination, I observe that said ‘thing’ is actually a human being. A girl, to be precise. Now that she’s standing still, I see that she’s wearing a long blue and pink frilly top with jeans, and matching headscarf. A rather silly thing to wear, but something which nonetheless looked good on her, I grudgingly had to agree. She breathlessly hands a note to the astonished teacher, who smiles at her pityingly and says, "Well, class; this here is your new classmate Zara Qassim. She’s new here and so I hope you’ll help her in finding her way around, and make her feel at home. Now let’s see, we’ll have to find you a seat here. Aha, you can sit next to-"

Please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t-

“Emaan. There is an empty seat right next to her.”

Well, damn.