Hooked By The Hijabi

Ten| A Proposal to Form Alliance

Maha

As I take off the coat I realize I forgot to return it to Yusha. 

Yusha.

How is it that we've met after so long but he's able to act totally nonchalant around me? Even after dropping out of school without so much of a goodbye. Was our friendship so meaningless to him?

I sigh and toss the coat on my bed.

I squint as something small, black and shiny pops out.

A flash drive?

I stare at it long and hard. Well, if there's something confidential, surely he wouldn't be carrying it around so carelessly, right?

Out of massive curiosity, I plug it into the USB port of my laptop.

Images pop up. Images of... wait, hold on, ME?

Me in class.

Me on the way home.

Me and Tan and Nat working on some assignment in our school's library.

Someone's been watching me. I feel goosebumps along back.

I snap the lid of my laptop shut as a knock comes on my bedroom door.

"Yes, come in." I choke.

Pop pokes his head inside. "I want to leave right after Maghrib salah. It'll be an educational lecture by Yusha Zaber, and I don't want us to be late."

"What!?" 

Pop startles as yell. 

"What's the matter?" He asks.

"I... I mean, what time is it now? Sorry. I was... testing my voice."

<>

"This thing is way to long." I say, emerging from my bathroom while clutching the skirt of my dress off the floor.

"It's called a floor touch dress for a reason." Tan says with an eye-roll.

"It'll be okay when you wear high heels." Nat says.

I glance at the pair of silver stilettos beside my bed and grimace. "That's not exactly comforting."

<>

Two buzz cut men in trim, tailored suits with a plastic earpiece sticking out of their right ears stand sentry next to the entrance, their faces an impassive mask and their voices so monotonous that they might as well be robots. They look like NPCs in a game as all they seem to be able to say is 'Your invitation, please' before they let someone pass.

The hall inside is spacious and lit by rows and rows of countless spotlights which beam from the domed ceiling. Alignments of blue folding chairs make a seating arrangement for roughly a hundred guests. Photographers have set up their equipment in front of a makeshift stage, while two projectors hang from behind it. Pop and I aren't exactly late, but there are only a couple more vacant seats remaining.

Ten minutes later the hall darkens as the lights grow dim, making the presentation on the projectors more visible. Someone up front tests the mic.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. I am Henry Preston and I am the president of the youth magazine Caliber." the same person says, "I am so pleased to be here this evening and be given the opportunity to introduce our guest speaker, Mr. Yusha Zaber."

A single spotlight falls on a guy in a white shirt and jeans. Yusha jogs up to the stage and mounts it, a mic wrapped in one hand and waving effortlessly at the audience with the other, as the hall echoes with boisterous applause.