Hello, Mr. Umbrella

Chapter Seven

The Mayor's Manor was heaving like a pub by the time Aliyah and Daphne got there. It was sure the mayor was out of town, because the Mayor's Manor was transformed into something wicked, wild and wonderful. Everything was disorganized in a very cool way, the room was poorly illuminated; the only means of illumination was the purple flickering lights mingling with the rolling center disco light to cast the huge room in a fabulous crimson glow. Huge, well-built men with an emotionless and scary look stood at the entrance of the Mayor's Manor to search the party-goers and stop the party-crasher from entering.

Classy Clarissa beat everyone's expectations by inviting almost every twelfth graders in Prestige High Academia—some eleventh graders and many girls in hijab were also invited. Someone as cruel as her wouldn't invite just some ordinary rich kids to their party; Clarissa surely had a plan too, unbeknownst to her Aliyah had her plan under her sleeves as well.

The catch was who strikes first.

As Aliyah stepped inside the Mayor's Manor her sense of hearing stopped working; for the first time in her life she felt good listening to loud music with a fast beat. Bad Apple was irresistible to dance to. The fast beat could make one's head start their own party, the only thing Aliyah saw was life. The techno-themed party was the painkiller Aliyah needed for long. She was high like she dragged something or drank a strong booze. Her problems were all gone, all she could think of was to dance along with the beat. But before she could do that she stopped herself. What was she doing?

The pleasure she was enjoying felt wrong in some ways; she felt like she was missing something, like she was doing something wrong. She was doing something wrong actually; her abuela was sick, she knew not of the nature of her sickness yet she still partied, even when her religion prohibits parties, she still decided to go against it. Realization struck her; she wasn't rebelling against her parents alone, but also against her religion—Islam.

Her high spirited mood died instantly and she stopped dancing as a tired and sad look flashed across her face.

"You're doing the right thing!" Daphne yelled, she had noticed her sad look. She felt sad and at the same time guilty seeing Aliyah so down. She was the one who coerced her into attending.

Aliyah didn't hear what she said, the music was louder than Daphne's scream. "What did you say?" Aliyah yelled again, but Daphne only tapped her shoulder and danced off inside the heaving crowd. Aliyah searched for a seat and she found one; even though it reeked of alcohol, she had no choice but to sit and endure the stench.

After five minutes of wallowing in an inevitable pain, Aliyah stood up; she had made up her mind to leave the plan and go make up for her actions at home. Apologizing to Safiya, her mother and her father was easy; but she didn't have the courage to apologize to her lord. She made many mistakes, but the mistake she regretted most was rebelling against her parents. She stood up tiredly and zipped out of the Mayor's Manor.

Coming out of the Mayor's Manor was a bad idea. Aliyah saw things she wouldn't be able to unsee for a long time. At every dark corner of the manor, teenagers could be spotted; making out passionately or doing something much worse. Aliyah finally gathered the reasons behind the prohibition of parties—parties make people feel independent and makes them lose control.

She brought out her smartphone from her shirt's pocket to call Daphne. She dialed Daphne's number and it didn't went through, the reception at the Mayor's Manor was somehow bad that night. Giving up, she buried her phone inside the pocket of her cotton fabric and planned to stand all night till the party was over. The main reason she came was to start a drama but it seems like her life was already filled with dramas.

"Hey. Aliyah right?" Someone tapped Aliyah from behind.

She shrieked a little before turning and her fears and anxiety were all replaced with oxytocin. It gushed inside her spine as she set her eyes on the Angel or probably fallen Angel who broke free from hell; in front of her was the young Prince of Louis Vuitton. Dashing, breathtaking and irresistibly charming was his grey hair—it danced along with the cold summer breeze. Aliyah's eyes danced over him from his Christian Dior t-shirt to his Prada pants—just perfect. His blue eyeballs were Aliyah's jinx; she kept staring into the deep blue eyeballs, swimming and searching for the fifty shades of blue in them.