Zayd ✔️

13 | ᴀʟʏᴀ

I put on beige-coloured baggy pants and tuck a white full-sleeved shirt into it. I also put on a beige headscarf and push my hair inside the headscarf until none of them is showing.

Looking into my reflection, I can't help but wonder why everyone finds me ugly. Growing up, my parents would always tell me how pretty I was. The second I stepped in the school, I was called ugly by almost everyone.

Was it because I didn't want to show my hair?

Was I really that ugly?

With a sigh, I look at my make-up bag. I rarely use them but today I feel like I should. However, the letter from yesterday makes me rethink my decision. I apply concealer under my eyes and nothing else.

The letter didn't really say much. It said something about me looking 'good' in my headscarf, even without using 'ridiculous amount of make up'. It was written in a messy handwriting, without a name. For all I know, this could be a prank.

However, something tells me it isn't.

And even if it didn't say much, that is all the compliment I am ever going to get in high school, so I'm just going to believe it.

"Are you done, sweetie?" I hear my mom's voice from outside my door.

"Yeah mama, I'm almost done," I reply, looking at the time. Shit, I'm late. I pull the backpack my mom and I had packed for the week, it doesn't move an inch.

It doesn't have much- just a few pair of clothes, make-up bag, moisturiser, water bottle, food, some more food, headscarves, a few pairs of underwears and socks, a comfortable pair of shoes. Also- my camera. And my journal. Also, my prayer mat. Why do I feel like I'm missing something?

"Honey, you're going to be late."
Shit.

I pull the backpack outside my room with all my might. I should have packed a suitcase with wheels instead, it'd be hella easy to roll around.

Huffing, I pull it outside, my arms are cramping already.

Don't I just love my life?

. . .

Karim pulls the backpack easily, like it weighs nothing at all. I'm so jealous of his muscles, lucky son of a biscuit. How am I supposed to carry it later?

I get inside the bus and stifle a groan, it's almost packed. Perks of being late, yay. I find my group at the back of the bus. There are two empty seats, one besides Theo and the other next to Zayd.

We lock eyes, Zayd's eyes have the usual storm in them, cold fire burning in his eyes- as always. He is leaning back, looking as if he owns the whole damn place, in this case- the whole damn bus. His eyes burn into mine with great intensity, I'm always mesmerized by the colour of his eyes.

I bet his heart is of the same colour. Blue. That is- if he has a heart.

He shifts a little to the side. Is he.. does he want me to sit next to him? I hold my breath, that isn't possible.