Picasso's Promise

Episode 37| Playing Hooky

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Monday morning, I wanted to sleep in for a couple extra hours, lazily get out of Noora's guest bed in the afternoon, and head on home around the middle of the day. Those plans of mine, sadly, were crushed not that long after the glowing sunlight inside the room hit my face.

"Wakey, wakey!" Noora screamed, belly flopping on to the mattress as if she was in a massive swimming pool and not on a twin size bed. "C'mon, you've slept more than the required time. Let's start on the day! I'm so happy you and I can spend the whole day together."

I was mad, but it was hard to stay mad at Noora. My irritation melted away, laughing at her impatience. Last night, I decided that I would be skipping school. Both of Noora's parents were in Chicago to visit some family. There was a huge Desi community there, populating a lot of Devon Avenue and dedicating it to South Asian cuisines, clothing, and other enmities. When someone simply said "Devon Avenue" in Chicago, everyone knew what you were talking about. That was how popular it was.

If Noora's parents were in town, there would've been no chance in hell that I could convince her to ditch school with me. Her parents would be disappointed enough for the both of us. Noora's parents took school seriously, which I get most parents did, but the pressures they placed on her were strict for even things not associated to school.

Noora couldn't have guy friends—but she did—she couldn't have boyfriends, and couldn't touch a man who was not related to her. Whenever our male friends would go for a hug, she always backed away. This had to do with more so with her Islamic faith. When we were at parties and we wanted to play a drinking game, she opted to water so she could still play. Everyone respected it and didn't pressure her to disobey her religion or her parents.  On the rare occasions that someone even tried to make fun of her for it, each of us in our friend group would back her up and ultimately dismiss the person from the game. 

It upset me though when I found out she picked up smoking cigarettes from our friend Ivette. She swore she picked it up on her own, but I didn't believe it. Ivette was a master manipulator, offering free cigs to anyone because she hated smoking alone. Part of me worried that Noora only agreed because tobacco was the only substance that wasn't deemed an absolute sin her religion, causing her to dabble into something unhealthy in the hopes to stay holy.

"Fine, I'm up, I'm up," I shouted.

"Yay!" she clapped her hands together. "I left a new toothbrush for you in the bathroom. It's still in its packaging and everything."

"Thank you."

Noora slithered off the bed. Before touching the door, she turned to me and asked, "Do you want to make breakfast or order it? Or, better yet! We could go to Grace's house! She doesn't have a first or second period, so she's still home around this time."

"Grace Rhee?"

She nodded rapidly.

I was slightly popular at my old school, but Noora and I weren't on the same level as Grace Rhee. She was Maddison Prep royalty. She knew us by name given we spent years in school together, but to call her a friend would be excessive.

"Since when did you and Grace Rhee get close?"

"Since you left. We have a lot of classes together this semester. I even slept over at her house last month."

A pang, out of nowhere, struck my chest as if a dagger dipped in toxic waste had found its home in my airway. I played off my hurt with disinterest, saying, "Ugh, I don't know if I'm up for another reunion."