CHAPTER ELEVEN;
friends?
SATURDAY MORNINGS ARE SACRED TO AMALA.
After a full week of early wake-ups and sleeping with sun, the mere thought of rest excited her beyond belief.
Last night had been a little rough; she had not slept till five a.m due to her headache. For hours, she tossed and turned until the sheets were slipping off the mattress and the pillows were upside down. At some point, Amala gave up and decided to let sleep come to her instead of chasing it.
During her wakeful hours, Amala sat on her balcony, little flashlight in one hand, a book in the other. She enjoyed the chilly wind and the soft chirping of crickets — all the while she flipped through page after page.
Time passed by calmly until a sudden woosh was heard. Amala had tensed up, senses at a high at the foreign noise. She had waited intently, heart and chest heaving, until a figure clad in spandex landed on her balcony.
Amala smiled softly.
"Spider-man," she said quietly. "Hey."
"Amala," he replied, jumping on her railing swiftly and sitting; his legs dangling dangerously into the streets below. "Hello."
She closed her book, squeezing her bookmark through the creases. "How - um - how are you?" She asked awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
He simply laughed. "I'm okay. Just swingin' around, I guess. What about you?"
"Can't sleep." Amala said.
He made an "oh" sound before saying: "Well, it's a nice coincidence that you're awake. I was just passing by and stuff..."
Her brows furrowed and a playful smile tugged on her lips. "Oh, passing by?"
He coughed. "Yeah! I mean - yeah, yeah. Ya' know... just friendly neighborhood Spider-man stuff — I just do a sweep of the city sometimes, in case..." He said in one go before pausing for a moment. "And... well, I was hoping you'd be awake."
Amala stared at him and though she couldn't see his face, she sensed quiet nerves. She smiled. "Well, it's a good thing I'm awake, huh?"
Spider-man laughed and nodded. "Yeah, good thing."
They turned quiet after that. Amala wasn't sure what the silence meant, but she found herself unbothered by it all — it was neither tense nor unpleasant.
They both quietly inhaled the night air, staring at the same sky; the moon, the stars and all of it in between. The night was such a beautiful thing and, surprisingly, the company of a certain hero made it all the better.
But then she remembered.
"Hey, um - thank you for the flowers, by the way." She said, rubbing her hands together to create a bit of warmth. "They're really beautiful. Lavenders are my favorite — you're right."
Spider-man turned away from the sky and faced her, sitting in her direction. "You're welcome," he mumbles. "I'm glad you like them."
"I love them." Amala said sincerely, hoping he could see the thankfulness in her features. "How did you know?"
"What?"
"How did you lavenders were my favorite?"
Spider-man's head lolled to the side, his hands resting at his knees. "Oh, you have a picture of them hanging on your bulletin board."
Amala quirked her brows, encouraging him to continue.
"Wait, I don't mean - I'm not - I wasn't - fuck!" He stumbled, laughing nervously.
Amala simply laughed at him, budding affection in each giggle.
"What I meant was, when you were patching me up and stuff, I saw them on your board. I assumed they were your favorite since they're the only ones there."
"You're right," she confirmed. "They are my favorite. Seriously, thank you, Spider-man. You didn't have to."
He waved a dismissive hand. "It's really nothing. And uh - you don't have to call me that anymore."
She paused. "Oh," she smiled bashfully. "Thank you, B."
"You're welcome, Amala."
Waking up to sunshine slicing blades through her curtains, Amala felt like she finally broke her illness. She'd felt significantly better than she did on Thursday, which meant her life could finally resume.
Rolling to the other side of her bed, she grabs her phone and checks the time: noon.
Sighing, she makes a mental checklist of what she has to do today: clean her room, take a shower, and continue her project with Peter. She could catch up on her missed assignments tomorrow (because who did homework on a Saturday?)
All of these seem simple enough, until she realizes she has to complete the entire list before five p.m. She's meeting up with Peter again and they're going to dedicate a couple hours to complete the majority of the model and get a sketch of all the information they need.
Amala gets out of bed, slipping on her massive unicorn slippers (a joke gift Akira had gotten her a year ago for getting accepted into a major Writing internship). Feet heavy on the carpet, she walks out of her room and into the kitchen.
Morning light hits her in eyes, making her cast shade with the back of her hand. In front of her, her mother is busy with a pan in one hand, stirring some sort of batter with the other. On the other side of the counter, her father is sipping coffee and reading something on his phone. Light conversation flows between them as morning grogginess begins to slip their mind.
"Good morning," says Amala from the end of the hallway.
"Zahra," her father says warmly. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"Much better. Thank God." She replies as she walks to the counter, taking a seat next to her father.
"Good morning, Amala." Her mother says, back turn to her.
"Hi, mama."
"So," her mother starts. "Anything to tell us?"
The raven looks at her father confusingly, then to her mother's back. "What?"
"Anything new happening at school?" She continues. "Any boy we should know about?"
Maybe exhaustion still flows through her from a restful night of sleep but she's never been more baffled in her life.
"Mama, what on earth are you talking about?" She laughs.
Turning her back, her mother laughs as well. "You're not going to tell us who got you the flowers?"
Amala's head snaps to the end of the counter. Lo and behold, the flowers are still there.
Of course they are, dumbass. She scolds herself.
Her eyes immediately widen and a blush soon creeps onto her cheeks as she remembers who sent her them.
"Oh," she breathes out, suddenly remembering last night's rendezvous with their owner. "Those..."
"Yes, Hayete. Those," Amala's mother supplies in amusement. "They're quite beautiful. Aren't they, Omar?"
"The flowers? They are beautiful, yes." Her father replies before turning to look at Amala. "What boy have you swept off his feet, my Zahra?"
"Baba..." she closes her eyes in embarrassment. "Please, stop."
"Come on, I just want to know if I should watch out for any boys." He tells her, Arab accent thick in tone.
"You don't have to worry about anyone." She looks away. "I'm not exactly sure who sent them." She lies on the spot.
Taken aback by her own fable, she searches for any trace of suspicion from her parents. They show none but both mirror the same look of confusion.
Amala starts talking before anyone can ask more questions, "okay, so. You know I take AP Psychology, right? So I was helping this one guy during one of our quizzes because he forgot to study. I helped him with most of the paper. I guess he was really thankful for them. He kept on thanking me and I made a joke about flowers. Maybe that's it? I don't know, he's the only person I can think of with the initials S and M." She says in one go, lie flowing out of her mouth in a single babble.
Both of her parents look at her, assessing what she just said.
Amala feels her heart rattle against her rib cage.
She never lies to her parents — there's no one more supportive than them. Yet, this time, it's different. This whole Spider-man situation is something Amala cannot — under any circumstance — talk about or confide in... to anyone. Not only is it a complete violation of privacy, but it's also beyond cruel to expose a hero like that. Especially in a vulnerable moment where he needed help. Amala doesn't have it in her to rat him out.
"Oh, his name is signed?" Her mother asks.
Amala shoots her a glance. "You didn't read the card?"
"No? Why would I?" She replies. "All I know is they were sent to 'Amala' with a lovely card. I don't know what's written."
"We wouldn't invade your privacy like this." Her father adds. "You know us, Zahra."
Amala sighs in relief. "Yeah I know. I just - I don't know - I assumed you read it since you knew it was from a boy."
Laughing loudly and shaking his head, her father quips, "it's about time a boy took interest in you."
Amala gaps in mock offense. "What is that supposed to mean!"
"Nothing, my Zahra." Her father replies vaguely. "It's about time, that's all."
She throws her hands in the air and scoffs. "Mama! Are you hearing this?"
"Yes, I am. And I agree."
Gasping, Amala crosses her arms around her chest, faux sadness in her eyes. "Wow, thanks a lot guys."
Both of her parents laugh.
Her mother's laughter trails off and a smile stays on her face. "Come have breakfast, Amala. You have a lot to do today."
"I know," she sighs, grabbing the plate her mother set out for her. "By the way, I'm going out with Peter today — same spot as last time. He's the person I'm working with for the Biology project."
"No problem. Your dad and I are going to be out of the house later today, so we'll drop you off. Teita needs help with some errands." Her mother tells her (teita means grandmother in Arabic).
Amala nods and starts eating her breakfast.
Four hours and a hot, hot shower later, Amala finally has a moment of relaxation.
Walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head, steam fills the hallway.
"The city called, they've run out of water!" Her father jokes from across the house.
"Haha, Baba. Very funny." She yells back before closing her bedroom door behind her.
Inside, she spends the next thirty minutes doing her hair. From brushing it out, to applying leave in conditioner and mousse, she takes her time, making sure her curls are well taken care of. Not bothering to blow dry them, she flips through her drawing and pulls out brown jeans and a cream colored crop top. She throws them on and looks at herself in the mirror.
For a girl who was suffering in her bed mere days ago, she looks pretty good.
Grabbing her phone, she checks the time: 4:30 p.m.
In a hurry, she quickly applies some makeup; she uses concealer, mascara, a brown eyeliner and some clear lipgloss.
With fifteen minutes left till five, Amala grabs her only tote bag off its hanger. She chucks a book, pencil case and her laptop, throwing it all in a mess in the beige bag.
"Mama, baba, I'm ready to go!" She calls as she shuts the door and grabs her keys.
In the car, she connects to the AUX as they begin their journey to the café.
The intro to "Black Barbies" reverberates against the speakers and Amala smiles; she loves that song.
"So hold on," Peter says, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie. "Instead of - I don't know - going out to parties or having fun, you and Akira spend your weekends bullying kids on Roblox?"
Sipping on her drink, Amala takes a moment before she deadpans, "yep. That's about right."
Shaking his head, Peter scoffs before laughing. "I'm - well, I definitely wasn't expecting that."
"How come?" She asks him, smiling.
"I don't know. You just... don't seem like the type." He says gaze averted. "You seem like someone who would have a lot of friends and go to lots of parties and have millions of guys swarming your phone. Wait -" he pauses. "Hold on, that sounds really weird. I didn't mean -" he stumbles out, eyes wide.
Amala cuts him off with a full laugh, heat rising on her cheeks. "No, it's okay. You're good." She tells him. "I thought you were just some quiet guy who hung out with his only friend and solved Math equations for fun. So..."
They both look at each other before breaking out into a large smile.
Laughter breaks out.
Two hours ago, she had come here with the intention of getting a good pace ahead in terms of their project.
Forty five minutes in, their books had been pushed to the side, laptops following as their screens were on sleep mode. Instead of pencil cases and papers, cookie wrappers and plastic cups replaced their spot.
Café's were always the best on Saturday, especially in the evening. Their ambience was loud and excited, cheerful chatter to wind down the week behind them. People walked all around them. Some went to see friends, others went to queue for orders. Everyone was lively as ever and the extrovert in Amala was joyful.
"Well, I mean... you're not far from the truth." He smiles at her bashfully, his cheeks pink, too.
Amala looks at him and shakes her head, laughter inevitable. "Yeah, but now that I know you, I can see you have layers." She emphasizes the last word dramatically.
"Layers?" He scoffs jokingly. "What layers?"
Swirling her cup, she watches flavors mix together. "Well, for one, you're not just what people think you are on the surface — quiet, a giant nerd and other stuff. I mean, look at us now!" Her voice drops to a whisper as she leans into the table. "That waiter is burning holes through the back of our heads."
He laughs loudly, face seemingly on fire, as he spares a glance to the waiter who'd been angrily eyeing them since they started talking (maybe they were being a bit too loud but who cares, right? I mean, it's fine!).
Amala can't help but snicker, sneaking her own eyes towards the waiter.
She hushes him playfully before continuing, "see? You're actually loud and talkative!"
Peter shrugs at her, giving her a lazy smile.
"You're also not a giant nerd. You can't write for shit — based on what you told me earlier — and well... your art skills... they're limited." She teases as she looks at the notebooks they were using to sketch out a plan for their model. Peter's scrawny drawings sit tucked under his laptop, but their squiggles can still be seen.
"Hey!" He snaps back jokingly. "Don't say that about my drawing. They're beautiful in their own way."
"Yeah, okay, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night." She chuckles, curls shaking with the motions of her head.
Their banter wavers out like a wick to water; a slow dim.
It doesn't bother Amala, though. Somehow, the silence is welcoming and it allows her to think.
This is nice, she thinks to herself.
It's been a while since she's last made a new friend. It had always been her and Akira since she moved to New York. Of course, she was more than happy with her best friend. In fact, she wouldn't switch her out for the world. Yet, it was refreshing to get to know someone again, someone foreign.
Something about nervous smiles and broad conversations, asking silly questions and getting even sillier answers — it excited Amala. That thrill of discovering the unknown, that shot of adrenaline when you took a leap away from your comfort zone... Amala had missed it.
She didn't expect to become friends with Peter Parker out of all people. It had never crossed her mind that they would say anything beyond simple smiles and greetings. She'd always just known him as a classmate, never a friend or an acquaintance, just someone who existed in the same space as her. For someone who kept to himself and stayed away from the limelight, he had so much to offer.
Peter was kind and patient. He was funny beyond belief and even more awkward in person. He was thoughtful and smart, he knew a lot of about everything but was more than willing to learn something new. He was quirky in his own odd ways — he always used the same pen for important tests, always drums his fingers against a table with his left hand (never his right).
Amala had learnt all that in the one week window she'd known him.
From excruciatingly embarrassing first meetings, to learning about each other's work ethic, to giggling about the atrocious print an old lady wore on her jacket, Amala felt like she'd finally secured him as a friend.
And if not today, then she was sure it would happen someday.
This felt nice. This felt real.
"So," Peter breaks their momentary silence. "I've been kinda curious to ask but how did you become a Nicki Minaj fan?" He breaks off a piece of his cookie, before adding, "'cause I mean... you're like a giant fan. So I'm just curious."
Amala's eyes sparkle at the mention. "Well... it is quite the story."
Peter just smiles, "I have time."
She snickers. "I was eight when I first -"
Her phone ringing cuts her off.
She shoots Peter a simple glance before looking down at the caller ID:
BABA <3
ANSWER DECLINE
"Sorry, Peter. It's my dad." She tells him before accepting the call.
Panic floods through her ears almost immediately. Voices muffle into her speaker and she can barely make it their voices.
"Baba? Hello? You're very staticy - I can't hear - what? What do you mean? - is she - okay. Okay, yeah - I don't know - now? - okay. Sure - Alright. Bye, Baba." She sighs and hangs up, hands shaking.
"Peter, I'm so sorry." She starts apologizing as the situation dawns on her. "One of my family members just got rushed to the ER and I don't know - I think it's serious - my dad - he's - I don't know, he sounds scared. I guess it's serious, serious. I'm so sorry!"
"Hey, hey!" He cuts her off gently. "It's okay, it's fine. Are you - are you going to be okay?"
In what seems to be a panicked haze, Amala meets his eyes.
They swim with concern and worry but something about them calms her down slightly. Perhaps it's the notion of someone else being there with her, grounding her.
"Yeah," she breaths out though her exhale is shaky. "I think so."
She nervously glances at her phone. "My mom is coming. We're going to the hospital." She swallows.
"Okay, alright." Peter says as he rises from the table with her. "Can I do anything for you? I - I don't know. If you need anything... I can help you."
Amala shakes her head, packing her things in a daze. "No, it's okay."
She slips everything in her tote back and makes a beeline for the door.
Peter is close behind.
Once outside, chilly wind hits her in the face, and she instinctively crosses her hands together. She breaths out nervously, scanning the lot for a familiar light gray car.
She hopes everything is okay. Her dad hadn't told her much; just that her aunt had been rushed to the ER. He sounded frantic and jumpy, which was unusual considering he was always rational and calm— that worried her.
The blink of headlights knocks her out of her ponder and she recognizes her mother in front seat.
She turns to face Peter, who stands close enough to her where she can almost brush her forearm with his.
"Again, I'm really sorry. This came out of the blue and it's family so I -"
"Amala," he rests his hand on her shoulder.
A shudder rips through her. Her body reacts instantly.
He seems unsure of where his hand rests too, but he makes no point to move it. "It's okay, seriously. You're right, it's family. I get it. Go. Let me know if they're okay." He smiles reassuringly.
Amala doesn't know what comes over her but she tugs him into a tight embrace.
He tenses slightly and Amala wants to recoil and profusely apologize, but then he hugs her back and returns the same intensity.
He feels rock solid beneath her hands. Her whole body is pressed against him and it's such a foreign feeling but it's strangely good. The way they slot together... her arms to his shoulders and his to her waist, her nose to the base of his neck, his chin to her hair... it's like the click of two magnets. They fit.
He smells like moon-drops and musky cologne, a hint of fresh mint there too, and Amala finds herself leaning deeper.
"Thank you," she mumbles from the crook of his neck.
One of his hands comes to timidly stroke her hair. "Of course. You don't have to thank me."
She squeezes him once more before letting go.
Her mother honks again and Amala tightens her hold on her tote-bag.
Had she been there the whole time?
This is gonna be so embarrassing to explain, she inwardly groans.
Nodding towards her mother, she blushes slightly at what she's about to ask. "We should do this again. Like - outside the project. If you want. I had fun today."
Peter smiles at the statement and his cheeks look even redder than before. "Yeah, I - uh - I'd like that and... me too."
"Okay, great." she grins.
"Okay." He says.
Amala smiles shyly. "Bye, Peter."
"Bye, Amala. Stay safe." He replies with warmth.
Turning around, her back turnt to the café, she walks towards the car.
She hopes everything is okay.
Something in her gut tells her it won't be.
— END OF CHAPTER 11 —
[ NOTE ]
AHHHH !!! i broke my
every other day uploading
streak :( it's ok tho bc i'm
bouncing back !!!!
anyways, please vote or
comment !!! it's so so so
appreciated and motivates
me a lot.
have an awesome day!
pearl <3