Bookworms | ✔

thirty-one

Nicholas lifted his head, hearing his classmates' laughter surround him, shadows towering over his lanky frame. When Nicholas glanced at the source of their laughter, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

It was the Younes twins, making their titles from the playful jokes the brothers played on each other. Their audience was enchanted by the alluring personalities of the most popular guys on campus. Admiration laced the eyes of women, deep chuckles echoing off the enclosed walls surrounding the campus garden, and the sharp fangs of hatred in Anthony's demeanor. 

In the small garden that the students chose to study in, Anthony seemed to be the only one who was off. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes blazing with fury, but he managed to suppress his internal jealous rage. 

Nicholas shook his head, closing his book as he stood to watch Haroon and Humaid's antics. As he walked, he gazed at the campus garden. Flowers of emerald green and ruby red collected around every corner, planting its gems deep into the enriched soils. The sweet, almost therapeutic, smell of flowers cut through the soft scent of spring air.  

Following their voices, Nicholas stopped behind the crowd, his tall frame towering over the girls before him. Haroon, the older twin, wore his signature beanie, strands of inky hair spilling in waves over his forehead, peeking out from the cloth. 

On the other hand, Humaid wore his casual white t-shirt covered by a flannel. Nicholas knew that the crowd that had gathered were not the typical fanclub of students that harassed the twins for their numbers, but rather a group that was just like Nicholas, a collection of nerds who escaped college stress through Haroon and Humaid. 

These students were humiliated by others who sat on a throne of tears, these students were haunted by society's judgment of them, these students were overwhelmed with their own need for perfection.

They were just like him. 

"Heed not the rebel who screams revolution. He has not your interest at heart," sang Humaid as he pointed to his brother, brown eyes gleaming. 

"Oh my God tear this dude apart," grumbled Haroon, trying to hide his own smile. 

"Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution. Don't let them lead you a-"

Haroon suddenly leapt in front of the crowd, making their audience rumble with laughter, even Nicholas couldn't suppress his smile. "You'll be back. Soon you'll see. You'll remember you belong to me!" yelled Haroon in his melodic voice, ebony hair falling over his forehead.

Humaid mockingly gasped, a hand on his chest to feign hurt. "You will never be satisfied!"

At this point of their charade, Nicholas wasn't sure how much longer the audience would last before they burst into a fit of giggles, but he could care less. Nicholas loved history as much as he loved books. Pages and pages of historic events were written, building the blocks that were needed to create the empire that he called home. America. 

He read through many legacies, many wars, many men who fought for the ones they loved, and the women who stayed firm to their beliefs in equality even when their hope was distinguished by bruises and flames. None of that seemed to stop any movement from progressing into an amendment, to a glass to the future. 

America had blood staining her land, bodies of injustice littering her soils, screams of torment traveling through her winds, yet the country flourished through every type of difficulty, becoming better than the last, adapting to the future quicker than any other country. Built by the hands of immigrants, America honed her way into a prodigious leading power.