Multicultural Misfits

Chapter Two

I creep back to my room upstairs, shut the door behind me and flop onto my bed. My arms and legs stretch out as I stare flatly at the spinning fan above me. I sigh, my heart heavy with turmoil.

I don't want to think. I don't want to think about anything; about Dad or moving or university which I have been avoiding anyway.

But the nap in the car was sufficient enough to alleviate my exhaustion. Plus, my body is still running on Doha time. The 4-hour difference would take a while for me to get used to, which I am praying happens before university starts.

I grab my phone again. A dozen unopened messages from my friends back in Doha are waiting for me. Reading them makes my eyes sting. My best friends, Asma and Fatima have spammed our group chat with dozens of images from the airport.

I'm alive. I type. Thanks for the pics, miss you guys already x

I wait a few seconds.

Asma: Ugh, don't make me cry again.

I sniffle back the tears and climb into the thin spread that has been laid across the bed. The mattress is slightly harder than I am used to but the pillows are perfectly plump. The air is still thick with humidity but I refuse to sleep without a cover, especially with the mosquitos lurking about.

Fatima: @Nur how was the journey?

Fatima: @Asma don't start, I can already feel my eyes water.

It was tiring, but I slept most of the time. I replied.

Asma: How's your family?

I pause, then type a response. Alhamdulillah, but they're still mourning over my Grandfather. It was slightly awkward but nice at the same time to be around them.

I spent the rest of the night detailing the whole trip, from the fuss at Immigration to the complications of taking a decent shower. I leave out the particulars about Dad even though my fingers itched to type it and get it off my chest.

I glance at the time which now reads 04:30am. My head throbs, most likely from the fact that I have been staring at my phone for so long.

Outside my door, I hear muffled voices and light footsteps.

Curious, I slip out of bed and creep over to the door, letting out a hiss when I stub my toe on the open suitcase. My hands reach out for the doorknob, but someone has beaten me to it and the door swings open.

I scream.

"It's just me, idiot!" Yusuf shushes, pointing his phone flashlight directly into my eyes.

I swatt his arm away. "Haven't you heard of knocking? You scared me!"

"Ummi told me to wake you up for Fajr," He says.

"Wow, that's a surprise, usually it's the other way round," I scoff. "Couldn't sleep?"

Yusuf shakes his head.

"Me neither," I exhale, grabbing him in my arms and resting my head atop his for a second before he pushes me away.

I scoff as he brushes his clothes like he's trying to get rid of my touch, and storms off to his room.

I fumble for the lights in the lounge and then head for the wet room. It's occupied so I shuffle back to Yusuf's room to use his bathroom.

When I step out, Mum is perched on the edge of his bed.

"Your brother told me you both couldn't sleep,"