Chapter 2

                                    

                                          
                             ESMA
"Esma! You lazy dog, come here!" 
I sighed and placed the broom that I was using to sweep the floor on the ground. I had woken at 6.00 am, and my back was already aching within an hour's work.  
"Yes, uncle?" A strained smile appeared on my face. Hide your pain and you'll survive, was my slogan.
"Where's my lunch?" He asked as he poured himself a cup of wine. The aspect of me going to school and escaping his soon-to-be-drunk behaviour made things less gloomy and sombre than they actually was. 
"It's only 7.00 am, Uncle. I made you some coffee and some omelettes however." I answered while smoothing down the front of my apron with my hands. Uncle's unruly behaviour was unpredictable, and I dared not feel the painful wrath of it.
"Cheese omelettes?"  Sometimes it was like dealing with a child. You would have to cajole them until they were pleased to behave in an orderly behaviour. I guess this was the effects of alcohol on somebody's soul. It rips apart who you are as a human being and turns you into this dark, sombre character. 
"Yes." I answered, and he stood up and walked to the kitchen. I followed him behind, intent on making my packed lunch and quickly escaping this madhouse. 
He took a seat at the table and begin eating the food I had prepared. However, it was moments later, when I was making my cheese sandwich, that he shouted for a refill and some bread. I quietly sighed, grabbed his mug, poured him a refill, and walked over to the pantry where I stored my homemade bread and handed him a slice.
This was my daily routine, and I very much doubted it would change.

                          
I sat down with a sigh and took my carefully-wrapped lunch out. I had just experienced one of the most traumatic events in society: Maths. 
Algebra is the only traumatic and "terrorist-like"  thing Arab have caused.
Obviously, this bought my thoughts to Aswad, the mystery guy I had met two days ago. 
I couldn't sleep just thinking about him. The fact that he also went to university intrigued me even more. You see, I didn't see a lot of people outside of school at all, so when I did, it was fascinating yet disturbing. Disturbing because that meant I had to come out of my little world and be social. Which was, if you hadn't noticed, something I didn't like to do.
"Yo, Esma! How's it going, habibti?" 
I cringed at the voice but turned my head to meet with the Arab boys. 
The nickname, if you wondering, had been achieved when all the Arab boys in the school had got together and became friends. Now, six years later, their friendship had only gone stronger. 
"I told you not to call me habibti!" I scorned, although I couldn't stop my lips from splitting into a wide smile.
Yusuf only laughed and plunked himself next to me. The others, Malik, Adam, Hamza, Youness, Elias, and Karim, sat down too, filling the empty cafeteria table. I noticed that all the girls had they gaze on Yusuf, who was unmistakably the handsomest. 
"What you been up to?" He asked as he leaned forward and in one swift movement, grabbed the cheese sandwich that was in my hands. 
"Hey!" I complained as I leaned forward to retrieve my sandwich. However I was far too short, and he was far too tall, so my attempt went useless.
I frowned and crossed my shoulders. 
"Aw, you look so cute when you pout!" He said and a murmur of approval passed around the group. I grunted and moved my head away just as he was about to pinch my cheeks.
"Come on, I'll buy you something from the cafeteria." 
"Not halal." I grunted, my eyes on Malik. Malik was busy talking with Elias, but his eyes soon shifted to mine. "Your friend's annoying me, you know. Can you believe he stole my sandwich??"
Malik dramatically gasped and placed a hand over his heart. Then his eyes turned to find Yusuf, and he whispered, "You don't steal a girl's food. Trust me, I know with five sisters." 
I couldn't help but laugh at this. Yusuf's eyes lit up with adoration and he hastily got up to join the queue of the cafeteria. 
"How's Amina, by the way?" I asked, referring to Malik's older sister. Malik's mother was looking to marry her oldest but Amina was having none of it, which made me laugh. 
"Oh, the usual. Grumpy and sarcastic," he rolled his eyes, "you should come over, you know." 
"I wish." I murmured as I looked down. 
"Look what I got you, habibti!" Yusuf shouted, making me jump in shock. I playfully slapped his toned arm and grabbed the bowl of apple crumble and custard that he was offering. Apples were the next best thing after books, tea, and sweaters.
I spooned the dessert into my mouth ravenously. A sudden silence fell upon the room and I slowly realised the boys were watching me eat. I looked up and said, "What?"
"Doesn't he feed you?" Yusuf's eyes were clouded with worry. I shook my head and wiped my mouth with a napkin before answering, "He does. I just don't have the time to eat." 

                          
Later on during the day, after I had survived my last lesson ,Chemistry, I decided to go to the library near the school. However, little did I know my plans were soon to be changed.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY, ESMA!!!" I heard a familiar voice shout.
It was Yusuf.
I gently took one earphone out of my ear and that was when I heard all the havoc that was happening.
A group of boys dressed in track suit bottomed with hoods over their heads were gathered in a circle. They seemed to be at least 20, and some were wearing black masks over their faces. They all were rapidly talking, and some were jumping up and down and punching the air, as if preparing for a fight.
I'm in the middle of a school riot.
I contemplated going back into the school, but the gates had already been closed. Trust the school to dodge out of sticky situations that involves their students. 
My eyes, now filled with panic, rested on Yusuf. Him and his friends, the Arab boys, were all gathered on the other side. Although they were fewer in number, I knew they could fight, and it worried me.
Yusuf looked up, and his once cold eyes immediately clouded with adoration. It was the same look I'd been receiving since he met me, but this time however, there was a note of pity. 
I pitied myself in all honesty. I was stuck. 
Okay, now's not the time to panic. Stay  next to the bushes, where they can't see you, and hopefully, with Allah's mercy, you'll survive. And if they-
My eyes widened in shock as I spotted one of the boys wearing a black mask approach Yusuf. The guy with the mask was holding something in his hand, and it's when I squinted that I saw the object glint in the sunlight.
A knife.
The guy's holding a bloody knife.
I jumped out of fright and the next thing I did was both stupid and brave:
"YUSUF! WATCH OUT, HE'S GOT A KNIFE!" 
Both of the groups abruptly turned around, their gaze moving on to the small girl with the hijab. I could sense the Arab boy's worried gaze, but my eyes weren't on them.
The guy holding the knife stopped mid-track and swivelled around in my direction. Although I had shouted in Arabic, he seemed to know that I had tipped him off. 
I couldn't see his face, but I could see his eyes.
They were glinting with a malice I had never seen before.
And that's when I knew that I was in deep, deep shite.