Who Are You?

Chapter 1

I think of the kids yesterday. We had played ice-breaker games and they had made puppets that looked like them to take home. It was so nice for the kids to be laughing and talking with each other, friendships already forming.

"Some of the kids fought over their favorite colored crayons, though," I add, laughing at the memory of the fights that broke out a few times. My parents grin, shaking their heads as Leena aww's.

While fights over crayons and glue did happen, it really was a great day.

"Have you got any troublemakers?" my mother asks. I laugh, nodding.

"Three boys got together during one of the ice-breaker games and instantly clicked. When I was reading the class a story, they kept making animal sounds at random times. It was hilarious, but I had to warn them after a while that I would call their parents, and only then did they stop."

Last year, my family loved hearing about the kids I taught and stories from my classroom. Something was always happening every day.

After I finish my pancakes, I get up and double-check I have everything in my handbag.

"Okay, I'm getting a little late, but if I leave now, I'll make it in time. Salam!" I say heading towards the door.

"Maira, wait, you forgot your lunch," my dad calls from the kitchen. I head back into the kitchen, and take my lunch from my father's hands, giving him a quick side hug as thanks.

"Thank you! Okay, okay, that's everything, I'm going now," I say, leaving the house and locking the door behind me.

I take out my lanyard with my teacher ID out of my handbag and put it around my neck, replacing it with my lunch. I take out my car keys as well and unlock my car, sliding in, and tossing my bag onto the passenger seat.

I drive out of my neighborhood and put on the radio when I'm on the highway.

Something about Ahmed Hassan starts becoming the topic of conversation on the radio, and I roll my eyes in annoyance, changing the channel to our local music station. 

Ahmed Hassan, Mr. Billionaire of Houston. I knew of Ahmed when we were both in high school. We both went to this private high school, me on a scholarship and him because his parents are loaded.

Our mothers were childhood best friends, both from the same town in Pakistan. But besides that, we were- and still are- complete strangers.

I remember when his mother passed away in my sophomore year, his senior year of high school, due to a car crash. Leena and his younger sister, Yusra, were both in fourth grade and best friends. They still are.

My family went to his family's mansion to give our condolences. I remember my mother bawling among her best friend's rich friends, how her tears were so much more real than theirs. I remember her doting on Yusra throughout the day, giving Yusra her number, telling her if she ever wanted Pakistani food or to just talk about her mother to not hesitate to call, and she would be right there.

Yusra had, in fact, called my mom. I remember my mother would go there every other week during the first couple of years to give them a large platter of delicious food, food she wouldn't make for her own family on an average day. We didn't mind, of course, but it was a notable observation among my siblings and I that we never mentioned to her.

She always kept in touch with Uncle, too, checking up on Ahmed and Yusra. However, the exchanges of food and emails became less frequent, they still happened, but now it's only a couple of times a year.

My friends in Uni always took this as a sign that I personally knew Ahmed. Ahmed Hassan, the "hot" Pakistani-American bachelor of Houston.

Random girls would come up to me to ask for his number, and guys that didn't know I existed had come up to me and asked where he was lately, like they were close with me.