Of A Forgotten Storm (Under Editing)

Abbah Is Getting Married Again

"Noorur-Rahman Adam!" I heard my name called across the class for the second time. It was the chemistry teacher doing roll call. I wondered why they still emphasized attendance when everyone had to take the exams. From my seat, I raised my hand, signaling my presence. "Noor-Rahman, are you?" The teacher asked, looking surprised—or whatever that expression was. I had no idea.

"That's why I’m raising my hand. It’s not because I’m stretching," I replied sarcastically, gazing out the window at the tiny vehicles moving down the road. Our class was on the fifth floor, the top floor, so everything looked smaller from up here. It was amazing to view from up here; sitting by the window seat, like mine, was like a small escape from a boring class.

"Noorur-Rahman, aren’t you supposed to be wearing a hijab?" he asked again, his confusion apparent. I don’t know why my name always seems to spark discussion. It’s just a name; they should get over it already.

"Aren’t you supposed to mind your own business? Just continue with the roll call," I retorted. Most of the boys chuckled, while I received glares from the girls. Now I was the odd one among them, simply because I didn’t share their newfound hobby of flattering the substitute teacher.

"Noor, calm down!" Asad whispered from beside me.

"Just leave me alone, Sad. Why does it matter to him if I’m not wearing a hijab?"

"You’re being rude and distracting my class. I’ll ask you to step out if you won’t be quiet." I looked up at him, my scowl deepening. Suddenly, he thought he could act beyond his level. I had had enough of them.

"You don’t get to send me out. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re just a substitute. You still don’t have the right to act on anything, so just mind your business." The whole class fell silent, looking between me and the substitute. I might have gone too far, but I didn’t care. He had no right to speak to me that way. I wasn’t ready to listen to anyone reprimanding me today.

"This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to disrespect me, Ms. Adam. I hope you will respect yourself the next time we meet because this is the last time I will tolerate your arrogance. If I am standing here in front of you, it’s because I know what you don’t, and I’ve earned the right to be your teacher. Call me whatever you want, but you can’t change the fact that I taught you something." He looked upset, with a warning glare that could have been intimidating, but it didn’t faze me. With that said, and seeing Asad’s pleading eyes, I stayed quiet for his sake.

But that wasn’t over; I dared him to do his worst. He continued calling the rest of the roll call while I fumed internally.

"Noor, what’s wrong?" Asad asked worriedly during our lunch break.

"What’s what?"

"Come on, you’ve been grumpy all morning. Did the teacher have anything to do with your bad mood?" he reasoned, and it wasn’t far from the truth. The teacher had nothing to do with my sour mood. I was used to Muslim teachers commenting on my hijab as if it were a big deal. For their information, I didn’t need to cover anything.

"Will you stop blocking my way?" I was trying to walk past him, but he wouldn’t let me. His insistence was annoying.

"You need to stop that, Noor. You don’t want that man to report or complain about you to Mrs. Naomi."

"What’s the worst that can happen, hmm?"

"Come on, bestie. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. I’m worried about you, Noor."

"Don’t worry about me. Now, will you give me some space? I need to be alone." He stepped aside, dejected. I inwardly sighed at his worried expression. He had always been like that. His father had been a friend of Abbah’s for the longest time, and Asad had always been in my life. So he was the most worried about me outside my home. He had been there like the true friend he was, even though there were times I was so mean to him. If I were him, I would have long ditched me. I knew for a fact I wouldn’t tolerate someone like me.