Battered, With Love

Chapter 11 -- Musa and Me

Hey everyone! How are you guys? (No, really, I want to know) COAMG will be the next upload hopefully! Anyway, enjoy.

"You think you can do whatever you want and it'll only affect you but the truth is, we as people are caught up in such an intricate web of relations that what you do today affects the people you love tomorrow and forever after that. Think about that for a while." -- Ash

            “Hey, wasn’t it in that class where Bobby said that you two would—” Nathaniel’s words echo in my head, starting off low and then getting louder and louder until it’s like I’m listening to him shout the words.

            Screw it. Just screw it. I pick up the pace and make it to English class, making a beeline to my seat and just sitting there. I bury my head in my arms, squeezing my eyes closed like I always did when I was a kid and walked in on my parents sobbing. I wish Harun was here. He would have made me laugh. God…please just let me get through this period.

            When the bell rings, I finally open my eyes and look up. My eyeballs hurt from the force and it takes me a few seconds to realize two things. One, Tanner Maxwell in all his jock glory is looking at me like I just told him I’ve stalked him his entire life and two, the seat in front of me is empty. Is Hamza skipping? Maybe that’s better.

            I sneak a look over to where Krish and Omar sit. Both of them aren’t there. Awesome. This is just purely awesome, like a five pound bar of dark chocolate. “Is there any particular reason you guys are sitting there?” Mrs. Winthrop looks in my direction and raises her eyebrows. My garbled brain is confused. Me? This is my assigned seat.

            “Uh…me?” I say the same time someone says, “I thought we were allowed to move.”

            I turn around and see that Omar, Krish, and Hamza are sitting in a row behind me. Oh. “C’mon, Mrs. Winthrop,” Krish says in a pleading tone, “it’s Omar’s last day. Can’t I just sit next to my boyfriend one last time?” Omar mockingly puts his arm around Krish and Krish loops his arm around Hamza.

            She rolls her eyes. “Just for today. Omar, are you going to be in a different class period?”

            I hear him sigh. “Yeah. I’ll be in your sixth period class.” That makes me raise an eyebrow. Harun is in that class.

            I don’t process Mrs. Winthrop’s response because I zone out and stare out the window, at the beautiful blue sky that dances above the urban apartments and buildings, lively against gray, bland concrete.

            “I know you guys were supposed to read this book last year but because Mrs. Rogers had her maternity leave, everything went awry. Anyway, it’s a short book that I want to finish as soon as possible. Here. Get a copy and pass it on.” She passes out the books.

            I blink as I register my copy. It’s boring. Plain. It doesn’t look like it’s been loved much. When I open it, a chunk falls out. “It’s ok, that book is weird. Just grab another one from the back.” Mrs. Winthrop says, nodding at the fallen pages.

            “Oh, ok. Thank you. I thought I broke the book or something.” She grins at that and I walk to the back of the classroom, stopping by the huge pile of Their Eyes Were Watching God books lying on the floor. I start to look for a newer copy but one particular book draws me in.

            It’s a weathered book with softly creased pages. It’s probably seen better days. But all the other books are rough and torn. This book may not be in the best condition, but the soft pages are carefully straightened out after being bent previously.