Hooked By The Hijabi

Two

Today Wissam got his driver's license. He's really excited to drive Dad's Mustang to the champion league's party at his friend's place. I can't wait till I have my own license. Hope he has fun.

It was an understated scribbled piece of writing; the first entry in 2005 of an optimistic twelve year old girl's diary portraying nothing about the fateful turn of events impending.

The girl being Maha Ifa Ayat.

Wissam, whom she had the bad habit of calling by name even though he was six and a half years older than her, was her brother and potential crime mate with whom she was joined to the hip. If anything prevented her from sitting on a catapult and projecting herself to the moon or anywhere as far when life got tough and rough, it was him.

From midnight snack fest to prank calling to dropping her off to school or cosplaying their favorite cartoon or movie characters using household appliances.

It was always her and him.

No longer do their unified chortles ring in the house or the park or anywhere in fact. No longer do they squeeze into a beanbag with a bowl of munchies or brush their teeth together while making comic faces at the mirror or get into a water fight while watering the plants or washing the car during the weekends.

They are all memories now.

Kaif pulls up the car near the entrance of his sister's university.

"Alright, we're here." He announces.

"What? Already?" Maha's tone drips disappointment.

"Get off now." Kaif says, "You're gonna get me late."

"You should try being for a change, Mr. Punctual." Maha retorts with an eye-roll, as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

"Don't listen to her, Kaif." Tan says, "Your sister is a zombie looking for opportunities to turn everybody like her."

"Flattering, Tandoori. Very flattering." Maha mutters wryly as she steps out of the car.

They exchange Salam before Kaif drives off.

"Do I get to know what you're so keenly searching for but can't seem to find?" Tan asks.

It never ceases to amaze Maha how her best-friend can read people almost without conscious effort. But then again, Tan is majoring in Psychology and Human Behavior.  Apart from excelling in Karate, decoding underlying meanings of words and reading between the lines are few of her other innate talents. 

"Like you haven't guessed already."

Whenever Maha has a few minutes to spare before class, she's casting about for trouble. She may be an adult, but she refuses to bid adieu to her immaturity completely.

"Wishing I'm wrong, and not for the first time."

In the hallway, their path intersects with Abigail's.

"If it isn't Professor Lopez's favorite student." She jeers.

Tan smirks. "Jealous, Abigail? Want Maha to put in a good word for you?"

Abigail scoffs, stowing away her lip gloss after coating a fresh layer. "Unnecessary. I'm on everybody's good books already." She displays a fake smile.

"Whose story is going to trend on your gossip blog this week, Gail?" Maha knows that nickname annoys Abigail. "Wait, lemme rephrase that. Whose life are you plotting to screw this week?"

"Better stay tuned to find out." With that, Abigail flips her hair and starts to stalk off.

Abigail has climbed the varsity's social ladder via marketing gossip. While the tales in the Weekly Tea are not exactly fake- which is why she's popular- they are not always hundred percent authentic, either, and has, more than a few times, tarnished reputations and burned the bridges between friends and couples.