Trigger warning: The next few chapters deal with delicate topics. If you're someone who's sensitive to sexual harassment and bullying, please proceed with caution (I probably should have added this warning at the beginning of the book but oh well).
...
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave my thoughts alone.
For God's sake, even a sinner like me deserves peace at times.
...
Malika Bashir arrived at school the next day with dread brewing in her chest.
She felt confident about ending things with Imran, even the next morning. It was long overdue. However, in the process of ditching her boyfriend she had also pissed off an entire group of people and almost tore apart another couple. Malika wasn't foreign to drama, but this was a record even for her; and she knew how nasty the consequences could be when it came to Imran and his friends.
Umaira and the girls threw daggers at her the moment she arrived in class.
Usually, she didn't care what these girls thought. She started finding them silly a couple years into their relationship, and didn't exactly hold back from expressing it. But this morning Malika's chest felt heavy as she approached them. The girls' accusing glares followed her every movement.
There was always a competition between her and Umaira, but also an unsaid understanding. However, the outburst the previous day had resulted in a fight between Umaira and Ryan, almost breaking them up. It broke whatever fragile friendship they had too. Malika saw nothing but hatred in the girl's eyes.
Natasha's purse was back in her seat. Malika scoffed at them and then continued to make her way down the isle, flicking her hair over her shoulder. On a second thought, she halted and retraced her steps. She turned to face the girls.
"You girls really need to get out of middle school one of these days," she snorted.
"You are speaking to us even after everything you did?" Natasha cried, tone accusing. "After what you did to Umaira?"
"I don't think you ever even deserved to be our friend in the first place," Safiya said. "You showed that girl code never meant anything to you."
Malika's patience, which already lived on edge these days when it came to these girls, snapped. "You really have some nerve talking to me about girl code," she bit out. "Umaira is the one who threw me under the bus first."
Umaira said nothing, however, her look could send Malika six feet under.
"How?" Natasha asked. "By speaking about your crush on Aryan?" She shrugged her shoulders with nonchalance. "It was never a secret. Everyone already knows you're a sl*t. You always have been."
Malika was jarred, the word piercing a knife through her heart. Her eyes pricked with tears. She swiftly took a deep breath and swallowed her pain. She would rather die than let those girls see her weakness.
"Screw you," Malika hissed under her breath as she swiftly walked away.
Malika spent the entire day keeping to herself. She wanted to ignore everyone and wish people would do the same; which was an impossible feat for the most popular girl in school. So she resorted to hissing at the younger girls and perfecting her RBF.
It was just before lunch that her friends caught up to her. Malika entered the wide and long hallway littered with classrooms on either side, along with Farrah, Layla and Dahlia. They weaved their way through the uniformed students, the girls chatting idly about their morning classes. The words went over Malika's head, her knot in stomach consistently present.
Malika grew up around a lot of unpleasant people. There were people within her family who didn't have good intentions towards her. She was used to not being everyone's favorite person in the room for simply existing, however, coming face to face with cruelty was always jarring.
They halted in front of their classroom and gathered on the wall opposite of the door, along with several other groups of people, waiting for the bell to ring.
"You know, we found out we live on the same street." Layla said with a smile, darting a thumb between her and the hijabi.
"We do." Dahlia said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're neighbors," she added.
"We should have a sleepover sometime," Layla said, elbowing Dahlia on the side in a friendly manner.
The hijabi beamed. "I would like that. I have never had a sleepover before."
"Then we definitely need to have one in your honor." Farrah said, nodding her head.
"Malika, you in?" Layla asked. Seeing the clueless look in her eyes, she repeated, "we're having a sleepover this weekend."
Malika brought her attention to her friends fully since the morning and spoke for the first time. "What are we, four?" She wrinkled her nose.
"No, five," Layla retorted coolly with an eye roll. "We recently found out that Dels and I are neighbors, so we thought we should have one."
Malika raised her eyebrows. Layla casually called her Dels. She wondered when the hijabi had become close enough to her friends for them to give her nickname a nickname.
"And Della's never been to a sleepover." Farrah added. "Will you join us, Lia?"
Sleepovers were sacred to them. It was how it has been since they were kids. True, Malika hadn't attended a sleepover with them for years. But she never invited Umaira and the girls for sleepovers as well. It was something meant for only her, Farrah and Layla. Now they were letting this total stranger into their special ritual.
But Malika didn't have any fight left in her. "I don't know," she replied curtly, playing with a strap of her bag to divert her attention elsewhere.
"Why are the witches hosting a satanic ritual at the scheduled date?" Layla snorted.
The other two girls burst into giggles. Even the reference to Umaira and the girls filled her mouth with acid. Malika kept the distress clear from her face as she hadn't mentioned anything about the break up to her friends.
"Can we not do this?" she asked exasperatedly.
"We'll consider it once the girls start being nice to us," Layla said.
Malika was glad to hear the bell ring indicating the beginning of the class, for the first time in her life. She quickly bid the girls goodbye and headed for her respective classroom.
The lesson went by in a blur. As soon as the class ended and Malika stepped into the hallways, she could feel the shift in the air.
She had been receiving strange looks during class as well. It wasn't unusual for Malika to be receiving a lot of attention. She learned at a young age that she turned heads wherever she went.
On a different day, she would have flipped her hair and strode forward with confidence. If people wanted to stare she would give them a show. However, there was something in their eyes this time she couldn't explain. Something had changed between her last class and lunch.
Whispers were being exchanged, cruel laughter too. Some people took the liberty to point at her openly. Malika clutched the blazer around her tightly as a chill ran down her spine, thankful for the ugly blue cover for the first time in her life.
There was a dreadful feeling churning at the bottom of her stomach. A couple of boys were standing by the hallway. Seeing her, they started whistling.
"Give me a call the next time you're at it, sweetie," one of them remarked.
Malik felt bile rise to her throat. The looks in their gazes made her skin crawl.
She clutched the blazer even more tightly and quickened her pace. Malika held her breath until she was at the end of the hallway.
The looks got even worse. The whispers became harsher.
She felt her phone beep in her pocket. Malika's heart sank to her stomach. She ran to the third floor immediately. All eyes in the hallway were following after her, her clicking heels catching attention.
She reached the end of the hallway. She pushed open the door to enter the ladies' room. She needed privacy, she needed to be away from the public eye, and this was the only place that offered it.
There was a girl fixing her hair in front of the mirror. Seeing her, the younger girl widened her eyes.
"Leave," Malika hissed at her. She didn't need to be told twice. The girl scurried away.
Malika quickly pushed open one of the cubicles and sat down on the toilet seat. She placed her purse on her lap and reached into the front pocket in search of her cell phone.
Cell phones weren't allowed in the school without authorization letters from the parents, approved by the Principal. However, that did little to stop the students from freely carrying their devices in their backpacks.
Malika's fingers were shaking terribly. Her breathing got rapid. She unlocked the screen and opened the message. It was from Layla.
Have you checked Facebook in the past hour?
Malika swallowed. She hadn't. In fact, after breaking up with Imran the day before, she had purposely stayed out of social media all day and night. She knew she made a mistake the moment she had seen the rage on Imran's face, and she knew how he operated.
But what was done was done. Malika took a deep breath and turned on the cellular data. The notifications kept buzzing in. Her breathing got more ragged.
She didn't have to scroll down too far to find the photo.
The post was made from an anonymous account. The girl in the picture was clearly her, even though she was facing the other way. She was in the midst of putting a shirt on - or pulling it off, however you chose to view it. Her entire shoulders and back were exposed, all the way down to her waist and her lower back. The shirt was hanging from one crook of her elbow, and the silhouette of her breast was visible from that side. Her long highlighted hair was drawn to a side over her other shoulder. Her face was turned to the right, only that side giving a hint of her identity.
Malika wasn't aware when the photo was captured. Then she realized it wasn't. This wasn't her. The face was hers. But the hair, shoulders and waist belonged to some other girl.
Malika had seen worse pictures on the internet. She knew girls who purposely posted more exposed photos of themselves. But the violation she felt made her skin crawl. Then her nervous fingers scrolled to the comments.
God, the comments.
She didn't even know when the circulation of suffocation started pressing against her chest. Malika was struggling to breath. The words 'panic attack' rose to her mind even though she's never had one before.
She felt like she was out of breath. Like she had climbed a hundred flights of stairs. Yet, all she was doing was sitting. The more she tried to breath, the worse it got.
In and out. In and out.
Her ragged breaths were now echoing in the empty washroom. She let the phone drop to her lap and covered her mouth with her hands. Her cheeks were wet, she wasn't even aware when she had started crying.
In and out. In and out.
Soft footsteps reached her ears and before she knew it, Dahlia Ahmad appeared in front of her.
"Malika," her soft voice cried. "Malika, are you alright?"
The hijabi's face was stricken with panic. Her brows were furrowed with concern. She lowered herself on her legs to face her.
"We've been looking for you," Dahlia explained. "And someone told me they saw you come to this floor."
Malika didn't move. The hijabi seemed at a loss for what to do. Dahlia simply reached out and placed a supportive hand on her knee.
Dahlia's voice seemed far and distant at first, but it was sounding closer with each breath. The pressure in Malika's chest was slowly decreasing, allowing more air to pump into her lungs.
Malika dropped her hands from her mouth. She clutched the hijabi's hand and flicked it away from her roughly.
Shock crossed Dahlia's features.
"Get away from me!" Malika shouted. "Go!"
Dahlia grasped to find words, but failed.
"We're not friends! Stop trying to pretend that we are," Malika spat. "Get out of here, leave me alone."
Her words made the girl physically cringe. Pain was apparent on Dahlia's face. The two never fully felt comfortable with each other and the hijabi and always ignored Malika's indifference towards her, but she was clearly hurt this time.
Adjusting the backpack on her shoulders, Dahlia straightened up and walked away, leaving Malika alone.