Ephemeral

“Can I take this eraser?”

The first few words her honeycomb voice approached me. Soft, naive cords, like they were mingled in a batter of cream and cookies, cooked to the best until it turned soft and puffy, inside and out, much like her. Her teddy figure was slightly bent over in a hilarious crooked smile, which showed no less than those fresh-scented lips one cannot stop staring at and a pair of green glamoured cat-eyes; the sentiments concealed in its beauty. Long silky black hair kept as confidential business behind a cliche of a coarse headscarf, some traditional aunt must have ordered her to wear while there made no difference in it whatsoever; certainly, nobody could stop looking at her.

What had made my stammers were her swift slithering movements towards the unattended corner of the classroom, opposite the large window panes, where the nerds were occupied; specifically, the head of them being this geeky fellow whose hair would be combed on one side and his pencils sharpened till its tip broke with one scribble. What was annoying was, I was adjacent to him, due to my eternal fate of being the second rank holder, a step behind him no matter what I did.

Failing to study would mean I would drop further behind, which would make my days at home fewer and those at tuition bigger, while simply working hard without video games or any other social menace would mean sticking to my second rank, for I didn’t have the calculator brain of Amal to solve the worst problems in seconds. His abacus brains were way behind my league, which my anticipating kinship might never understand.

However, at this moment of my life when I felt her breath dashing against my earlobe, I failed to recall anything. Neither the biology record’s diagrams my poor memory had forgotten nor my lunch box which was waiting impatiently at the office counter nor my best friend, Alan’s birthday party two days ahead; absolutely nothing insignificant. It felt like a blackout, with her presence being a fantasy, a dream where I wished I hadn’t woken up. When a sudden interruption arrived, breaking the serene moment.

“You can take mine, Aamna”

Aamna.

Her name. I had known, of course. I had known so much about her in the past few months, herein this diary would tell you. She is Sarah, by the way, named after a sister I couldn’t have. When disastrous leukemia sucked away all her cells, I lost her even before she reached the tender age of nine. It had been the worst times of our life. Umma went mad to an extent I couldn’t help, so she had to be taken to Nani’s house once in a while, for self-analysis and treatments. Even though Baba tried to stay intact and face the situation, he too had issues and lost his job. It was Alif, who brought us back on track. He worked hard and studied simultaneously, eventually helping the family get back on their legs. Baba now has his business going on smoothly while Alif works for him, to earn some pocket money for college. Whereas I remained this useless kid, who’s still fighting with those hormones which began to arrive a few months back, when I gained Sarah on my thirteenth birthday. It was a gift from Hamid sahib, my Maths tuition sir, whose expectations from the Super 30 batch revolved around infinity and greater; an undefinable yet exhilarating amount.

“Ali, you can use it to note down formulas your poor memory fails to recall. From what I witness, you have the caliber, the extreme potential one kid of your age might be missing out on that you should develop it instead of letting go. It can help you to such an extent, one day, a blooming mathematician will be seen before the world”

These expectations. These high hopes. Let me tell you, they are simply gross. Now, apart from the fact, a single formula hasn’t made its entry into this diary, not a single matter of knowledge has kissed the soft pages of this intimately enclosed pink-cased diary. Quite naturally, it was my world of Aamna; a biography of her and only her. None of my friends knew, nor did my family; thankfully a safe zone because from what I hear, boys shouldn’t be involved in such love stories. They should study hard, graduate, get a job and then eventually, think of marriage and life, similar to the perfect example of Ali back home, an elder brother whom I supposedly thought was born from manipulated genes, spreading intelligence and good looks. From what I see, I ain’t that type, which nobody seems to know as of now.

“Thank you”

Soft again. Shy and embarrassed, maybe for asking a simple thing as that. Her disappearing footsteps shook my heart to an extent, I grinned widely. My mind was floating now. She had never been in such close proximity in these past few weeks.

A new student, from Muscat, officially shifted to Khairan Nagar after her father lost a good job; this being the meager introduction the entire class knew, typically the exact same words she used in order to introduce herself during the first day of school. It’s high school, so many bullies would mark her as a target, especially girls for every boy were too busy admiring her looks to actually getting to know her. I knew that in advance when my bad days did pass away at middle school with a lot of running to and forth canteens and playgrounds, picking snacks, and stealing basketballs. In fact, I lost four kilograms of weight with this daily exercise, and for that, I would be inevitably thankful.

It was like any other day when my gut was demanding an immediate nature call, amidst the boring botany period on how plants photosynthesized. I was sure, Mrs. Leona wouldn’t let me budge for her eyes kept darting from Helen to me and back to Amal, the smart guy I talked of. Feeling like we were the only three kids she was teaching, there was no way I was standing up, gathering much-undesired attention only to ask the lamest question of all times; Can I use the bathroom? However, it was turning to be an emergency now, and I threw myself over the desk in a rush to leave. As expected, sixty pairs of eyes had caught the motion, turning butterflies in my stomach among all that urine,

“Um...I need-d- to use it..ma’am...“, I stammered, definitely hearing whispers and chuckles from the back. She cleared her throat and pointed at the outside, glaring. Closing one of my eyes, to feel less pressured, I made a dash for the door left ajar and the bathroom at the end of the lonesome verandah welcomed me. Thankfully, I made it to the toilet before it was too late, or else it would have been on the front page of the next day’s daily column. After the necessities were done, my breath felt easier to escape as I walked down.

However, to this day, I might never forget the scenario at the broken end of the verandah, across the washroom area.

She had been there, standing against the wall, with both her hands tightened at the front. Her head was hanging down and would have been mistaken for an indigenous bird in black. However, she was surrounded by the high-tech Starling Group, the infamous bullies of our school. Now, for a boy who can diss off any girl, you might be expecting a savior to save her. But expect for the fact, I peed my pants again and remained listening, there was nothing I had done. And believe it as it is, they didn’t place a finger on her but did end up crossing a line for she was breaking a sweat and washing her face twice that day.

“This Khairan girl! Of course, I know you...the girl entire school is curious of. Siblings?”

“Two”

“Here?”

“Amina-a-a is in fourth grade, here-e-e. Jaseem baba is working now-w-w ”

Giggles and sneers.

“A simple nerd, it seems. The teacher’s pet, is she?”

“Even worse, I guess”

The bullies were exchanging their own comments, regardless of her presence.

“You know what, Aamna? We have no place for beauty queens or nerds. So, consider yourself saved. However, learn to keep yourself down, like how you are now. Then, we can guarantee a high school life for you, got it?”

The elephant-sized girl dismissed her off with a push on her shoulder, offering giggles and sneers from the other four of them as compensation; all those who were common faces near the Principal’s office and outside classrooms. They were the girls who knew what they did was wrong but gave no hang about it no matter the countless times their parents were called for and warnings shot out.

I didn’t follow her. She sprinted right across me, without a glance at the stranger standing beside the wall, who had watched it all without interfering or putting in a word of concern. Her sobs were silent. The disappointment was evident. Only I noticed or maybe more than one of her admirers, but it still didn’t give the courage to go and stand before her; comfort her, or extend a helping hand.

That had been the worst day of my life.