Broken With Betrayal

Chapter Nine : Muhammad Hassan Ali

 This chapter is dedicated to @GostLight, a very special wattpad friend of mine, as a farewell gift, for due to some reasons she ahs to leave. She has been like a young sister to me, and we also share the same birth dates. I want to tell you, li’l sis, that I’m gonna miss you, I can’t give you much of a farewell, but accept this as a tiny gift. May you have a beautiful life ahead, and may your sorrows be converted into joy. Stay Strong and take care of yourself. You will always stay in my prayers.

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Please read the Author’s Note at the end of the chapter.

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"So we’re hanging mid-way, on a cliff. The trust there, but not there enough. The fear erased, but not erased enough." -- M.Hassan Ali (Broken With Betrayal) 

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~~~ENJOY!!~~~~

 

Chapter Nine

Muhammad Hassan Ali

After quite a long time, I was actually feeling happy. And to tell you the truth, it felt good to feel happy.

Emanuel asked his brother and he said that he would be glad to take me in his group, and I would be visiting him today, after school, so that he could introduce me to the rest of the band members. At first, I couldn’t believe it. But he assured me he was serious.

I would be singing. On a stage. In front of an audience. With a proper band. Wow.

As I walked to my Art class, I hummed out the Happy song from Despicable Me 2. Huda had it on the entire evening yesterday. She loves that movie. And although I don’t like it much, I have to say, the song is very catchy.

“Clap along if you feel like that’s what you want to do,” I sang silently, walking up the stairs with my Art kit in my hand. It was my first Art class I was going to attend. And since neither Saaim nor Emanuel were interested in Art, I had to walk alone. But not for long, as Iris joined me on the landing, flashing a toothy smile.

“So you’re in for Art?” she asked me as we wove our way through the students.

“Actually, I’m all for arts,” I answered rather truthfully while she laughed in response.

“You don’t look so artisty, you know. You have more like a scientist-y look,” she complimented, examining me from the corner of her eyes.

“If that’s a compliment, then thank you. But no, I like drawing and painting more than I like blowing up science labs,” I explained while she nodded her head. Her frizzy curls bobbed up and down with every single nod, like a ball bouncing forward and backward in the ping-pong game. I have never liked curls. I just can’t imagine how one could have all those springy springs on their head, that bounce with every single shake or nod. And how do they go to sleep with such bouncy hair? How do they even lie down to sleep? Wouldn’t their head just bounce back from the pillow?

But Iris was such a friendly person, I couldn’t resist her, or her curls. She was the first one from the girls to have confronted me and formed the bridge of friendship between me and the other girls. And I could tell that from her gestures that even though she was as much impressed by me as the other girls are, she didn’t present her hand of friendship for that purpose only. When she and Karen flashed their sparkly smiles on my first day of school and said, “Come on, lets walk to the canteen, and we’ll show you around too,” she actually meant to show me around the school, and not to show herself around (this is what Jessica has been trying to do ever since I’ve come here).