As narrated by Deeyanah:
We’re sitting in English class dissecting the words of Romeo and Juliet. Wait, not dissecting.. you do that in Bio class.. Deciphering! Yes, deciphering the words of two love struck teenagers.
And as usual, literature being our least favourite part of English, Zee and I are sliding notes to each other.
The problem is, there is quite a bit of a gap between our desks as we sit in two different rows, but next to each other.
Our English teacher, Mrs Essa, has a habit of walking around the class whilst teaching. It’s pretty comical considering she wears those Skechers shoes that literally makes you bounce! What are they called..?? Ah yes, shape-ups! So it is only when her back is facing us do we manage to lean over and pass a reply. The ‘goody-two-shoes’ students used to spy us out the first few times but that hasn’t stopped us and now they don’t bother anymore.
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand…”
Oh my, he actually knows where we’re reading for once!
“This holy shrine, the gentle fine in this,” reads Zee, putting on an accent and looking directly at one of the girls who turned to face him.
She giggles and nudges her friend. I roll my eyes.
“Amaani, can you explain that verse please?”
“Here Romeo is…” begins Amaani.
I glance at Zee from the corner of my eye, not daring to pass my reply since Amaani sits right next to me and Ma’am is looking directly at her, probably waiting to find fault with her analysis!
Mrs Essa loves bright students. But, Amaani is too bright, often correcting Ma’am’s mistakes… with all due respect of course. This obviously makes Amaani less liked by her.
Nodding her head stiffly, Mrs Essa turns around asking for a boy on that side of the class to continue reading.
I use the chance and drop my note onto Zee’s outstretched hand. Now I have to pretend to concentrate while I wait for his reply.
“The day you two stop this will probably be-”
“The day we finish school,” I interrupt then finish Amaani’s sentence in a whisper.
She shakes her head and focuses her attention back to her textbook.
I glance at Zee again. He’s writing away with a huge grin on his face.
Oh boy, he better not say something funny! I’m not too good at keeping in my laugh.. especially at Zee’s jokes!
He folds the paper and glances at Ma’am whose back is still facing us.
I reach for the note, quickly sliding it under my book as Ma’am turns around.
Once I get a chance, I open it slowly.
Oh my God!
My hand flies to my mouth as I try my best to turn my laugh into a coughing fit.
Amaani nudges me, shooting me ‘the’ look.
I turn to glare at Zee, but he just winks at me, his signature smirk on his face.
“What seems to be the problem, Deeyanah?” asks Ma’am, an annoyed look on her face.
“*cough* Urm, nothing Ma’am.. just a bit of the flu.. *sniff* *cough*.. sorry.”
I hear Sumayya’s giggle from the front of the classroom.
Mrs Essa gives me a warning look, before glancing at the huge clock on the wall. She turns around with a sigh of impatience.
‘Seriously Dee?! That’s enuf nw!’ Amaani writes lightly in my textbook.
‘You spelling like that in English class?!’ I write back.
‘Pfft wat was so funy?’
‘Tell u at break. Can’t have the teachers pet laughing in class! ;p’
I don’t reply Zee’s note, knowing too well that if I have to look at it again, I’d have another ‘coughing fit’.
He tries to get my attention couple times but I just ignore him and try to focus on the stupid literature in front of me.
After what seems like forever, the bell rings, announcing break.
“Before you’ll go!” shouts Mrs Essa. “One more thing…”
The scratching of chairs against tiles is replaced with a synchronized groan.
“Break ends at 10:35, what time?”
“10:35 Ma’am,” answers the class in monotonous unison.
“I will not accept any late comers, is that understood?”
“Eat your lunch, use the bathroom, go on a holiday, find a cure for cancer, do whatever you need to, but make sure you are all back in this classroom at 10:35. Have I made myself clear?”
We sound like a bunch of Grade Rs but we hear the saaame thing every Tuesday because Mrs Essa has us directly after break for a second period of English.
“You’ll may leave now.”
“Yes Ma’am,” answers a few inattentive kids.
Laughter erupts and then chairs are once again pushed back, as we all rush out for our now only 15 minute break. Thanks for that, Mrs Essa!
Mrs Essa just does not seem to understand the purpose of the bell. It’s as if when they discussed in the teachers meeting that the sounding of the bell signals the end of the lesson, Mrs Essa wasn’t present! She probably was busy giving some unlucky class a lecture on punctuality! 😉
“Oh my God, Zee!” I yell at him.
He smirks, lifting his hand for a high five.
“Okay but what the hell was so funny?” demands Amaani, as she sits down next to me.
“Nothing, I just asked her if she knows why Noshaad got the Burj Khalifa in material form on his head!” answers Zee, with an innocent grin.
“Huh?”asks a visibly confused Amaani.
“Burj Khalifa on his head?” asks Sumayya.
I motion at Zee to explain because I’m laughing too hard!
“Yeah, look,” grins Zee, as Noshaad walks to a table with his group of friends.
Amaani and Sumayya erupt into a fit of laughter when they see what we’re talking about.
Noshaad, the shortest boy in our class, is wearing a topi almost taller than him!!
“Bob head, you better sort that out before you get married,” Zee teases Sumayya, stealing a piece of her sandwich. “Don’t want the aunties saying his topees are taller than his wife, hey!”
Zee says that since Sumayya is the shortest girl in the class, and Noshaad is the shortest boy, they should get married!
“It kinda looks nice to be honest,” says Sumayya.
“What, Noshaad’s face or his topi?” teases Zee.
Sumayya rolls her eyes at him, and doesn’t say anything further.
She has been a bit quiet after Tayyiba’s accident. Yesterday she didn’t come to school, but today she seems to be more of herself although the Sumayya we know isn’t fully back yet.
“Your lunch is so lekker today!” comments Zee, eating away at Sumayya’s sandwich.
And finally he is too busy eating to talk!
Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola.
Hope all you beautiful people are doing well. And if you live in JHB, KZN, or CT, hope you’re enjoying the cold as much as I am!
Rrrright, can we just talk about how cute short people are?
And how high these topis are?!
Oh, and how dumb literature is?! (Okay but I do lowkey wish that I could speak like that.)
Are you’ll yay or nay for the Burj Khalifa topi? Drop me a comment. 😉
Troubled Illusioner. ❤