Once Upon A Muslim

Semi-Chapter 2 | Zahra | Hey, My Name's Megan Fox

I said I would update this in 3 days...it's the end of May, and I'm still in school. Don't blame me. I don't feel like explaining, so just enjoy Zahra's POV. AND I'M TYPING THIS AT 8 IN THE MORNING. AWESOME.

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Moving into a house is as equally as hard as cleaning a house before the day of Eid. Or maybe harder.

I thought my parents rented a condo since we'll stay here for six months, but Mom must have convinced Dad that we needed more space if we'll stay for such a long time. No matter how we ended up having a spacious house, I love it, even though I always confuse the garage door with the bathroom door. Our new house is what seems to be a Victorian house. It has elaborate door frames, four capacious bedrooms, three scented bathrooms, a comfortable living room, an ornate dining room,  a garage, a basement, and my favorite room of all: the sunroom.

Every night before dinner I'd go to the sunroom to watch the sunset. The golden sun always sank beneath the horizon while countless, blended shades of orange, pink, and red laced the horizon. I've always enjoyed sunsets and sunrises. They're one of nature's most stunning and captivating wonders.

I grunt as I lift the heavy cardboard box. I stumble and hear the slight chiming of glasses. Oh god, not her special glasses. How about if the box accidentally slips from my hands and falls on the floor, breaking the glasses that we'll only use once in our whole entire lives?

She'd kill me. My mom would kill me.

I finally reach the house and place the box on the floor, nearly shattering the glasses into pieces. My back aches and my breathing is getting labored. Who knew that carrying boxes in an out takes so much effort? I walk back outside to the moving truck but just then my phone rings in my back pocket. I take it out and answer. "Hello?" I ask, not knowing who's on the other line since I haven't checked.

I just hear breathing. And then shrieks. I hold the phone inches from my face and close my eyes. "Zahra, it's Kayla! She's in trouble. We were kidnapped and then they let us go, buttheykidnappedpoorKaylaagain!"

"Bonnie, you're not funny. I'm in the middle of unpacking and you know that you can't scare me that easily. If she's really kidnapped, she won't pick up the phone when I call her."

"Fine," Bonnie huffs. "But you're being so insensitive. You're going to see that I'm not lying. This is serious!" she says with desperation.

"Stop screaming then!" I breathe out a sigh at how immature my friends are becoming without me around. I really miss them, I do, but the sooner I get back to unpacking the more time I get to rest. I think I'll strain a muscle at this rate.

"Zahra! What are you doing? Take the box in front of you and continue bringing in the boxes," my mom shouts at me from the house.

"Okay Ma, hold on a sec." I get back to Bonnie. "I need to go. And please, just stop with this childishness. Bye." I hang up before she even gets the chance to. I heft up the box at my feet and fortunately, it's lighter than the other box I just carried. I continue on carrying the boxes into the house to the point that I feel dizzy and dark spots appear before my eyes. I rub them and sit down in the moving truck, just right where my dad was handing me the boxes.

"What's wrong habibti?" he asks sincerely as he notices me sit down with my back hunched.

I lean my head against the cold metal of the truck and close my eyes. "Moving is just too much work."

"Then go to sleep in your room. Just take a nap." He pats me on the back before taking yet another box in. I groan. I have to get up, walk into the house, get upstairs to my room, and lie down on my new comfy bed. Although how promising it sounds, I don't feel like getting up.