|Imran Adebayo Ibrahim!
W
aiting has never been so excruciating in life.
I had been waiting for an hour in the library waiting for my group mates to begin our science project. The fact that I was happy I made a new friend was undeniable as I checked the time and kept smiling at the librarian who seemed nice to smile back at me. I made sure the smiles were limited: before she'll think of me as a pervert.
Spreading the news of my newly made friend to Sahar and Francis was on the top of the agenda. I couldn't wait.
The sweet soft voice of Sahar and the meek voice of Francis could be heard from inside the library, they were conversing in such a loud manner that everyone could hear. They were chuckling and playing: they later sort out their differences, I guessed. Entering the library, they instinctively lowered their voices — creating a hushed atmosphere around them. I could see them from where I sat patiently, their once loud conversation had transitioned into silent exchange of glances and nods. They searched from one aisle to the other, looking for me.
Watching them searching tirelessly was fun but I had to cut the search party. "Sahar, Francis." I called their attention towards me.
Upon setting their eyes on me their smiley face both transitioned into a frown.
What did I do?
"Hi." I murmured, closing the book I was reading.
Francis snorted, keeping his gaze at the level of my sneakers. "Hello." He replied with the most chilling one I've ever heard.
If Francis wanted to be a jerk maybe Sahar would be of help. I ignored him and turned to her. She also had that same frown lingering on her face. "What did I do?" I inquired, gesturing my head closer to Francis.
"What'd y'all do?" Sahar's frown softened into a perplexed look, "you stood us up. You were the one who texted us to be here at nine for our first book club meeting, and we did. We broke into the school only to call you and be sent straight to voicemail." She answered me, reeking with vexation as she spoke.
"Guys, I'm sorry." I remembered we were supposed to have our first book club yesterday and I ruined it for them, "concerning your calls I never got any of them. My mother confiscated my phone ni." I tried my best to explain.
"Don't even pull the African-parents-are-strict card on me. I heard your stepbrother had a R-rated rager last night, if your parents were home he wouldn't have organize such Babylonian party." Sahar raised her voice which made the male librarian make a hush sound towards us.
"I'm sorry y'all. For real I forgot, and I never attended that thing. I was hanging out with Omar Alvarez." I announced triumphantly, blowing imaginary bubbles of pride around my head.
"You stood us up for the dawg who insulted you yesterday?" Francis broke those bubbles.
"No you don't understand, he is not mean, he was just intimidated." I explained like an idiot. Saying it made me feel like a celebrity.
Sahar snorted, spluttering out the most annoying laughter I've ever heard. "He told you that? The Omar I knew is never sorry and intimidated by anyone, not even you. No offense."
"Some taken, what happened to; he is just intimidated by you." I frown, she didn't look so beautiful to me again.
"Don't get me wrong, Immie. Omar is such a stuck up, I know him more than anyone. We used to be besties — not after he ignored me all summer to hang out with the cool kids." Sahar explained her plight and the only thing I could grab was the cute nickname she'd given me: Immie.
Immie, focus. She calls everyone sweet nicknames, take Francis as a case study, she calls him Fran.
Cupping my head on the library desk, I let out the most irritating groan.
"I never stopped hanging out with you." A voice spoke from the entrance of the library. It was Omar, he had been eavesdropping on all what we've been saying. He stood still all looking fine and dope, I was grateful he was now my friend.
Sahar snorted, "all hail the king of apes. Welcome king Rafiki." She stood up and did a very funny curtsy. I had no choice but to laugh at Sahar's activity — Omar actually looks a lot like an ape — I mean we all evolved from apes.
On the contrary, Francis erupted into boisterous laughter, a sound unfamiliar to his typically introverted attributes. "Sahar, you truly earn this — put it in," he whispered playfully, exchanging a mischievous fist pump with Sahar, creating a villainous duo appearance.
"Got 'em!" Triumphantly, they both said in unison.
I could see Omar's face still looked unaffected as he took his seat next to me. "Let's get started on the stain removal gas—" he began, "—I did my research and found out that: stain removal typically involves liquids, powders or gels rather than gases — so I think we should go with—" Sahar cut him short.
"Wait a minute, who said we're stickin' with your stupid idea, I think we should do the proton detector," Sahar suggested, turning to me, "right Imran?"
"It's a Neutron detector." I corrected with a slight frown, "and besides, were you not the one who disregarded it?"
"It's regarded now!" She snapped.
"Babe, y'know my dad doesn't have cash flying around, the supplies are damn expensive."
The dread on Sahar's face was palpable. "One; you don't call me babe, it's cringey. Two; what the hell are you even doin' with juniors, don't you have baseball to play, or jerks to hangout with?"
I couldn't keep mute and watch them insult Omar. "I think Omar is right, we can't go on with my neutron project, we should work as a team, not as much of odé." My anger made me speak Yoru-glish.
Omar snapped his finger and his face lit up, I literally could see a light bulb on his head. "What you said just now, you made mention of it yesterday, right?" He inquired and waited for no reply before speaking again, "I googled the meaning, and it meant; fool, you're one sneaky guy, you called me that yesterday."
"Well," I rolled my eyes, "you were being a jerk."
"I'm sorry. I'm my new self today." He flashed me a sincere smile.
An irritable scoff escaped Sahar's lips. "What the hell is this? A meet and greet?"
Francis stood up, facing me with a frown, "I can't afford to lose this project's mark, yet, my group mates are a bunch of shawties. Whenever y'all are ready, you know where to find me, I have AP Spanish now." He said perfectly before walking off. The way he spoke immaculately made me realized he had been rehearsing it for a while: that was why he made no comment — he kept what he was to say inside his head, not wanting it to escape. Regardless of his perfected speech, beads of sweat were noticeable on his forehead before his dramatic exit.
Suddenly, Sahar banged her fist on the table, calling the students' attention towards us, much worse, the librarian's. She pushed herself out of her seat angrily and turned to walk away.
"Sahar." Me and Omar both called her in unison. Looking at Omar, I saw affection written inside his eyeball, even though it's tiny, it was palpable. Like he still cared for her.
Something in me allowed Omar's voice to overshadow mine. "We are not done, were you goin'?" He questioned, whispering mostly.
Instead, Sahar faced me, "whenever you're ready Imran, you know where we'll be," she also followed Francis who had waited for her at the library's entrance.
"Wanna skip school?" Omar inquired all of a sudden.
"What?" That question caught me off guard, this was the biggest decision of my life; the decision that'll determine how my stay Midtown High would be. I had too many options, rebellion or obedience. Both have negative consequences, if I rebel, I could possibly fail some of my classes — to be obedient, I'll lose the chance to hang out with a cool kid like Omar Alvarez. It's not as if I was ungrateful for my friends, but truth be told, they can never increase my population scale, we all are dorks.
The choice was mine and it was easy. Rebelling was the best choice, fortunately I had a reason to rebel, my mother was that reason.
"You going?" I was so deep inside my thoughts that I forgot Omar's inquiry. "You don't have to, you look like a mummy's boi." He commented, chuckling to himself as he retrieved his textbooks inside his black Nike backpack.
That's it. This was my chance to be famous as Zayd. "I'm going." Hesitantly, I muttered. Breaking rules wasn't something I enjoy doing, but desperate time demands desperate measures — beside, why the hell did I come to Atlanta if not to make mistakes.
"You're not gonna regret this. There's a lot of gas in the bando."
Wait. Gas? Instantly, I regretted my decision. But I wasn't going to chicken out. I followed Omar enthusiastically, holding my backpack strap tightly, as sweat dripped from my palm.
Astaghfir allah for the shortcoming I'd dragooned myself into committing.
Author's Note
Hello everyone. How are we doing today? I know I messed up big time, updating every two weeks, I'm so sorry for bein' a bitch. So... I'm back in campus and it has been hectic. My life has been, thinkin' 'bout switching my major to medicine and surgery. Who knows what's waiting for me as a med student?
Nevertheless, vote, comment and share as you like.
Glossary
1. Odé: means Fool
2. Yoru-glish: a combination of both Yoruba and English language
3. Gas: is an Atlantan slang for weed
4. Bando: is an Atlantan slang for abandoned house