Zahra

𝙕𝙖𝙝𝙧𝙖

"Live life with a little spice."

          Only in this case, I did not want any spice in my life. It was already bad enough that my father was let go, and my mother rejected my bakery idea, and on top of that, out of all people, I had to bump into Hussein Jabir. Out of all people, it just had to be him. Ya Allah, please have mercy on me. What if he's secretly plotting my murder? Aruthu billahi minal Shaytan al-rajeem. I shuddered at the thought of me being buried six feet underground. When I finally reach the end of the hall, I pick up my schedule when I feel a hand snatch it out of my hands. My eyes widen and I frown, my brown eyes locking with my other friend, Pedro. He shoots me a grin and he folds his arms sassily. "And when were you gonna come tell me hi girl? I haven't seen you all summer." I smile widely, shaking my head as I snatch my schedule back. "Pedro I only just got here." I laugh, as he narrows his brown eyes at me. 

         Pedro Jimenez has known Imani and I since our middle-school days. He actually befriended us in our freshman year of high school because he saw us as genuinely trustworthy people. Or as he says, "Sis, you two are my ride or dies." Wallahi ma fahim 3aley bas khalas, that's Pedro for you. He also came out to us as gay our sophomore year, and Imani and I are the only ones who know other than his boyfriend Daniel Murrillo. Pedro is originally from Honduras, while Daniel is from North Korea. They both are a part of Imani and I's friend group, and they're actually really funny. Imani and I have never thought of outing his sexuality to the world, we aren't like that. That's his business, and that's on "period" , as he says. 

        "Mhm, okay girl whatever you say. How was your summer?" He asks as he walks with me to my homeroom class. My eyes meet his and I think about it for a moment. A lot of bad things happened, but I'm not the type to bring bad news upon people. It's really awkward for the receiver of the bad news. Like, how are they supposed to react? I'd rather just keep the vibes around me positive and not allow any bad energy come into conversation. I mean, it hasn't even been an hour into senior year yet. I hold my binder closer to me as I clear my throat. "Uh, you know, same old same old. Yusuf and Malik played soccer while I helped my mom out at home. I also got a part time job at Zara." Pedro raises an eyebrow and snorts. "A housewife in the making." He jokes, elbowing me as I roll my eyes playfully and shoot him a look. "Oh yeah, how about y-" I'm cut off when none other than Hussein Jabir's piercing eyes meet mine. Pedro also takes note of the way Hussein was glaring into my soul. I break the awkward eye contact and Pedro whistles. "Sheesh, why was that eye candy staring you down? Were you two having a staring contest?" He jokes. I let out a laugh and nervously clutch my schedule. "Uh so yeah, uh funny story. Which I will tell you after lunch." I give him a sheepish grin. His eyes widen and he points his finger accusingly at me, "Zahra Hamdan I swear-." I wave at him, wiggling my little fingers before entering my homeroom classroom. 

      My brown eyes scan my schedule, unfortunately I'd taken up many difficult classes that I will most likely not enjoy. Ever since I was a child, my parents and my grandmother were so persistent in influencing me to want to become a doctor or something in the medical field. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I genuinely didn't know what I actually wanted to be, and that aiming for being a doctor wasn't easy. There's taking all your prerequisites, then studying for the MCAT, then taking the MCAT, and praying you have a high enough score to get into the medical school of your choice, AND then four more years of studying medical stuff. So, basically eight years, IF you pass the MCAT. I'm not one for taking risks but- "Miss Hamdan." I hear a voice call me from my thoughts. My eyes lock with a pair of blue ones. "The bell to go to first period rung five minutes ago." My teacher says, looking at me sternly. I look around, my cheeks burning up in embarrassment as I come to the realization that I was the only one sitting in my homeroom class. "Right-Uh sorry. I zoned out." Mrs. Vincent rolls her icy eyes behind her glasses as she points at the door without another word. I hurry and grab my binder , rushing out the class. 

     "Ya Allah." I mutter under my breath. I needed to find my stupid Advanced Placement Literature Class, and I had no idea where it was. I'm not often on the senior floor of this dumb high school. Eventually, I look at my schedule and find the room my class was assigned to be in. I knock on the door nervously, as the teacher opens the door. "You're late." The tall, thin, old woman said from behind her glasses. She looked stern for a bit before her face broke out into a smile. "Ah, I'm only pulling your strings." She teases. "Since it's the first day, I'll let it slide. Come inside. What's your name young lady?" She asks, fixing her glasses. I clear my throat, shocked at the teacher's tone of voice. This was one of the rarest tones a teacher had spoken to me in before. Most of the teachers at my school weren't fond of Muslims, or, at least us because we wore the hijab. I found this ironic because you would think that these individuals were educated and would know better than to disrespect someone for their ethnic background, religion, or race. However, this teacher was speaking to me in the kindest tone. I gave her a warm smile. "My name is Zahra, Zahra Hamdan." The woman smiles, and replies. "Welcome to my class, Zahra. My name is Ms. Sandra." She replies. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm sure you'll be a pleasure to teach. You can run in and find a seat, you're lucky I haven't taken attendance yet."

     I let out a soft laugh, as my head turns to look at the class and really take in who was going to be surrounding me in my 'learning environment'. Shockingly, this class was full. Normally, advanced placement classes wouldn't be so full. There are literally no available seats, wait there's one. Then, my eyes shifted to see who was sitting next to it, and my breath caught in my throat. Ya Allah, please, please have mercy on me. As if bumping into him wasn't embarrassing enough. "Miss Hamdan, please take a seat." Ms. Sandra spoke up, and suddenly Hussein's eyes locked with mine. His lips curved up into a slight smirk, and my stomach did flips. My anxiety was like a non-monotonic graph. I clutched my binder as I took the seat next to him, and lowered my gaze onto the textbook on my desk. 

        It literally hasn't been five seconds, and then I hear him clear his throat before speaking up in his accent. "You're forgiven." He says, and my eyes shoot up to meet his. His eyes dancing with amusement as my eyebrows knit in confusion. "Huh?" I asked confused, and he shakes his head chuckling. "You bumped into me pretty hard in the hallway. And you apologized to me, but I didn't exactly get the chance to forgive you." He points out, his hazel eyes locking with mine. This is literally the first time Hussein Jabir has actually tried to start a conversation with me. I could literally feel the entire class's eyes on us. What in jahanam am I supposed to say?!