The Golden Girl

1. Darling, we're just getting started

Malika received a lot of curious glances from her peers, like always. Both her classmates and juniors alike were gawking at her like she was a celebrity passing by paparazzi.

The sky overhead looked clear. It was still sunny. Chittagong, the port city of Bangladesh, was always sunny, but she could smell the rain in the meek winds that were blowing.

Her mood lifted, Malika's steps became more determined.

It was her final year at high school, and Malika Bashir had a good feeling about it. She didn't know what it was - whether something in the air, water, or the fact that Joe Jonas was finally single - she had a strong gut feeling this year was going to bring changes.

Malika spotted her best friend hanging out in their regular spot - shaded by a years-old mango tree - at the heart of the campus.

Farrah was chipping the nail polish of her left pointed finger with the right one, her thick legs stretched out on the grass in front, her eyes focused on the strips of paint peeling away.

Malika covered the distance between them with quick, long strides, her hips swaying in rhythm.

"What's up," she said, more as a greeting than a question.

Farrah shrugged. "Was just waiting for you." She got up, slipping her arms inside the straps of her backpack, one by one.

Malika's eyes darted to the frown on her friend's forehead. Farrah Hussain had gained a couple of kilos over the summer and the way the girl was sulking, it was apparent she was still struggling to feel comfortable in her new body.

Malika didn't see anything wrong with the way Farrah looked, but she knew better than to comment. The years of experience told her this was one of those situations that she needed to keep her opinion to herself, at least for the moment. Malika and Farrah were each other's oldest friends. They had known each other since they were in frocks and played with Barbies. The frocks were replaced by skirts and their dolls with lipsticks, but their loyalty to each other had remained unchanged.

The primary hallway was still relatively empty by the time the girls entered. The main flood of students usually rushed in five minutes before the bell rang. Before they could reach the rows of notice boards bearing their schedules for the day, Layla Fayyad halted behind them.

"The first class hasn't even begun yet and I'm already done with school," she drawled.

Malika glanced at her. Layla's wispy hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. Her dark brown eyes were rimmed red, indicating she didn't get enough sleep. Her dusky skin was flushed, no doubt, from jogging from the main gate to make it in time.

Despite that, the girl was gorgeous.

Malika felt a bubble of irritation in her chest. She could never pull off the 'just got out of bed' look like Layla did. No one could. And Layla wasn't even trying.

Layla Fayyad was someone that Malika had been friends with for almost as long as she had been with Farrah. The girl was just always there as a consequence of the fact that Malika and Layla's brothers were best friends. After years of hanging out, they had become friends due to circumstances, as there was something irreplaceable about sharing a childhood together.

Malika's eyes glided over the girl's appearance, halting on her hips. "Your uniform's a mess," she said with exasperation, gesturing towards Layla's waist.