Zahrah's POV
"We're in the same group," The man who I came to know as Junaid stated. He was walking next to his sister with the beige hijab.
ALG stands for an active learning group. It is a class from Monday to Friday for two hours a day. We meet in a little room five per classroom, and we have to figure the diagnosis; and it is led by an MD or Ph.D. in the room with us, and they facilitate and make sure we are on the right track.
"We are!" I said cheerfully, but at the same time, I couldn't help but notice the glare on the girl's face as I spoke.
Junaid spoke, "So, what's with that Florentino guy then?"
He glanced toward me briefly, as I tried to hide that my weak cheeks had flushed a light shade of pink as Junaid added, "He kept looking at you this morning?"
I didn't answer. I kept quiet; of course, he was; he is possibly thinking of how to torture me for causing that black eye.
A few minutes had passed, and we came into a group of five. We sat in a specific section of the library, away from the peering eyes. Junaid's sister, Safia, was the one who orders it.
I Sat on the floor next to a girl called Karmel, surrounded by a pile of books; We have tucked away in the corner of the library. Chewing on a pen, Karmel eagerly flipped through pages of medical text as she said, "So, what's with the people from the same ethnicity getting grouped?"
I glanced briefly to the tables surrounding us as I found white, black, Hispanic, Asian were divided from each other except for one or two members of each group is from another race. Karmel, Junaid, and I, although we weren't from the same race, we were all Muslims, and then there was Yolanda. The girl who only spoke Dutch.
"Why couldn't I have been white so I could get into a better group," Safia complained for the tenth time at least as I tried as much as I could to practice what I learned and hold my anger.
She then dared to bump her foot on my back, "And why are you sitting in the ground like a hobo? Come sit in the chair."
"Safia," Junaid warned, "Let the girl sit as she wants. Do you have to control everyone?" He questioned.
I sat in shock. Did she just hit me? "Do you really want to lose your foot that badly," I yelled as loudly unconsciously in a library as I held her by her shirt?
Most of the groups' attention was on me as I could hear the librarian coming our way, "I am sorry," I stated before the librarian could open her mouth, "I will be quit," I smiled.
She groaned, "No shouting in the library; we aren't in a cafe shop."
I nodded to her and let go of Safia, and turned my eyes back down to return to scanning the textbook in front of me., "Why do they always have to bring those project girls," Safia scoffed before she moved furthest away from me.
Ya Allah grant me Saber!!
I sighed as a loud, familiar, chuckling voice caught my attention. Before I could look, I saw our supervising professor approaching.
"Well, I'm your Lord and Savior, for all intents and purposes," he introduces himself. "Daniel Williams. I'll be the man responsible for your mentoring group so that you can survive this hell hole on your own in a few years."
He's joking, I'm sure, but it's hard to find the humor when the place actually does resemble a hell hole. The semester had just started, but we were already in the library trying to brush through the information we needed to know from undergrad to not fail in med school.
"Um, that's great," I say restlessly. There's something about starting a new school – about meeting an influx of new people – that scares the shit out of me. My hands are even a little clammy. I'm really starting to think I might be socially retarded or something.
"Follow me," he says quickly. "I'll give you a tour."
After he had introduced himself, He didn't allow each of us to present ourselves, and he led us around the campus to the Medical School building. "My office is on the third floor along with the conference room we will be using to meet as a group," He explained.
We all seemed to be a bunch of introverts since he kept talking, and we all just nodded without engaging in the conversation. Dr.Daniel would sometimes look at me for a response since I was the only one who responded when he introduced himself.
I have to walk briskly to keep up, and pretty soon, I've had the tour and have been introduced to several professors. Dr.Daniel keeps up a running commentary as we walk, listing off who's classes to avoid and where to get the best notes and which corners have the best wifi service. It's truthfully the best tour I've ever been given.
We're passing by the lecture hall when I see Dr.Daniel tense. A tall, Blonde, absolutely gorgeous doctor came out. She's wearing a white embroidered lab coat – though everything happens so quickly that I can't make out the writing. She's elegant in a pair of slacks and heels.
As she passes us, her eyes meet Dr.Daniel's. Both gazes ooze with hostility.
"Doctor." Her voice is clipped as she nods and passes him, her gaze little more than a stony glare. Dr.Daniel bristles at her tone; his entire body is tensing from the strain of keeping his enormous mouth shut.
Oh, he's definitely holding back a choice word or two.
He doesn't relax until she's out of sight. Then he turns to me. "That," he says with a burst of irritation, "is the most self-absorbed excuse for a professor you'll meet here. I wouldn't even bother learning her name."
But now I'm madly curious, of course.
"Why? What did she do?" I ask eagerly. I'm a sucker for some good college gossip.
"She's a pretentious bitch," he says harshly. "Thinks she's God simply because of her title. Pfftt. I want to show her a thing or two about finding Jesus."
From the look in his eyes, I don't reckon he means attending church.
"Well, what's her name?" I persist. "I might have her as my professor or something."
"If you must know, it's Dr. fucking Hallock," he says, and for a moment, I think he's funny and that he's referring to her as Satan or something.
"Dr. Hell lock?"
"Yes. It's very fitting, actually."
I actually know a thing or two about asshole professors, seeing as how I've been in undergrad studies for four years. It's the same scenario every time – a professor occasionally starts his career as a nice, modest man, then he gives some Fs, gets a few paychecks, and suddenly he thinks he's the big shit around campus – err, the college. And sometimes he is, but usually, he isn't. And often, it isn't enjoyable. And insulting. Especially, especially, when they think they're better than us students – that our tasks are less important – that we're not spending twenty-four hours a day busting our asses to become doctors, as well.
What's even more annoying is when they think they're sexy, but they actually aren't. And if professors are mildly attractive, then Allah forbid, there won't be any space left over after they cram their enormous egos inside the lecture room.
I vowed a long time ago never to marry a professor. The prospect is only useful in theory – in the real world, they're cocky, rude, and usually unattractive.
But that was before I got accepted to Sanford med school, to be supervised by Professor Danial Willimas, to be introduced to a slightly arrogant and still amazingly hot Dr. Benjamin Florentinto.