#1 Book of the 'Malibu Series'
Lale yilmaz is a 17 year old Turkish Muslim revert who had to move to Malibu because of her fathers new job. Unfortunately, she went through a lot in her home town and her past still haunts her to this day. This causes...
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༻❀LALE❀༺
I'm sitting in class, finding myself going over the vocabularies I need to know for the French test today, repeatedly. It was quite challenging to fall asleep last night due to my nervousness about the test, and that nervousness still lingers. Knowing that Mr. Laurent doesn't like me, makes me even more nervous.
My leg is shaking uncontrollably as I gaze at my paper filled with the vocabularies I hesitantly wrote down yesterday. Anxiety slowly engulfs my entire body.
The vocabularies aren't actually as difficult to memorize, but I still feel the need to ensure I know them perfectly. It's crucial for me to pass this school year, no matter what obstacles come my way.
Suddenly, I sense the presence of someone sitting beside me. Even without looking, I can tell it's Chiara.
"Hey," she says, her voice tinged with uncertainty. It's been a week since we last spoke, ever since that incident, and she hasn't made any effort to reach out to me either. The silence between us is deafening.
"Hey," I say softly, my gaze fixed on the paper in front of me. Not sure of how to react, considering my sudden outburst and leaving from the football field last week.
"Are you studying French?" She asks, her curiosity evident. I nod in response.
"Yeah, we have a French test today," I reply, still avoiding direct eye contact. I don't know how to face her, even though I haven't done anything wrong. But my anxiety is overwhelming me right now.
From the corner of my eye, I notice her unpacking her things for the English lesson. "Oh. Don't worry, you'll do great," she says, offering some reassurance.
I feel a twinge of guilt for my earlier behavior, but I'm still quite upset. Plus, I haven't even spoken to Matteo yet, so I'm unsure how he'll react either.
Summoning up some courage, I turn to her and say, "Thank you, I appreciate it," but my words come out cold. Sometimes, I struggle to hide my anger, so I quickly brush it off with a small smile.
I turn away, and there's a tense silence between us. It's honestly awkward. But I haven't done anything wrong, so I have every right to be upset, right? She stayed silent when they talked bad about him like that, knowing how close I am to him. What did she expect? Did she think I would just sit there quietly and let them talk behind Matteo's back? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?
"Um, do you want to talk about what happened last week?" she asks, her voice filled with uncertainty.
I take a deep breath, trying to suppress the simmering anger that's building within me as I replay the events of last week in my mind. I'm not someone who gets easily upset or dislikes others. But when it involves the people in my inner circle, those I genuinely care about, there's a limit that shouldn't be crossed. "What do you mean?" I ask clueless, as I fail to grasp the answer she's anticipating.
