One Hundred and Eleven

As narrated by Sumayya:

“Let’s just do the other tasks, guys. It’ll be fun!” says Dee, when we get back from Zee’s place.

“You just want to watch us being targeted!” I say.

“Of course!” she replies, smirking. “But really mahn, let’s just do them. It can’t be that bad!”

After much convincing from Dee, Amz and I decide to join her and go ahead in completing the other two tasks.

Worst idea ever!!

Task 2 reads: ‘Best Braider.’

We’re required to first wash our hair, then dry, iron, and braid.

“I already showered today and I just washed my hair yesterday!” complains Amz.

“Just wash it in the sink then,” I say.

“In the sink?” Amz and Dee gasp in unison.

“Yeah,” I say, confused at their horrified expressions. “You know, the sink, basin, whatever you want to call it.”

“What? Are you mad?!” laughs Dee. “Who washes their hair in the sink?!”

“I do!” I say.

“For real, I’m being serious!” I continue. “It’s so easy. You just have to fill the basin, wet your hair, shampoo, and then rinse.”

“Hauh Sumayya, hauh!” argues Dee. “How do you bend your back for your head to go under the tap?! No man!”

“Maybe it’s easy for you because your hair is so short,” comments Amz.

“Yeah,” agrees Dee. “I don’t know how you can wash your hair in the sink!”

“Okay let me show you’ll, right?” I offer.

“Alright,” says Amz.

“Live tutorial on how to wash one’s hair in a sink!” Dee says, changing her voice.

We head downstairs together.

“Wait, you’re not going to do it in the kitchen sink, are you?!” Amz asks, alarmed.

“Sure I am,” I reply without turning around, so that she doesn’t see the grin on my face.

WHAT?!” they cry out together.

“Just kiddiiiiing!” I laugh.

“Oh thank goodness!” mutters Amz.

“So why we’re coming down then?” asks Dee.

“To get these,” I say, picking up the things the boys gave us to use.

We go back upstairs again and gather in Amz’s bathroom.

Letting the water run until it’s hot, I examine the things given by the boys.

The containers aren’t brand new or full, but they are familiar. Hamza must have given them my shampoo and conditioner.

“Alright. So, step 1! Put in the stopper,” I say, pressing the stopper in place.

“Step 2.. wait for the sink to fill about half way.”

Dee checks her phone while we wait. I catch her grinning, her face flushing slightly.

Hmm.. wonder who she’s texting..

“Right, step 3. Dunk your head in, and try to get all your hair wet.”

I bend over and demonstrate.

“Are you serious? Do I look like a retired acrobat from a circus?!” asks Dee, watching.

“You just have to bend over man!” I reply, laughing. I wet my hair as best as I can and then release the water.

“See, so far it’s simple!” I say.

Amz shakes her head.

“Now.. step 4. Shampoo!”

I squirt out shampoo, glancing at Dee again as she laughs, looking at her phone screen.

“What’s so funny?”  I ask.

“Nothing,” she replies quickly, still grinning.

Amz and I roll our eyes.

I smother the shampoo onto my hair and then rub my scalp.

“Your shampoo smells weird,” comments Amz, frowning slightly.

I sniff and catch the strange smell too.

“Is it the shampoo?? I don’t think so,” I say.

Bringing my hands away from my head I sniff them.

“Oh my God, it is this!” I say in alarm.

Dee giggles.

I glare at her.

“Wash it off fast!” says Amz.

Just then, my phone rings.

“I’ll get it for you,” says Dee, digging in my pocket.

“Private number,” she adds, before answering.

“Sumi, wash off that thing!” Amz says, getting my attention.

“Oh yeah. Crap!” I exclaim.

“No one’s saying anything,” says Dee, moving the phone away from her ear.

“It’s probably the boys,” laughs Amz.

My head under the tap, I rub my head vigorously.

Why hadn’t I noticed that the shampoo consistency wasn’t like how it always is?!

“It’s like a paste!” I yell in horror, trying to get it off.

Closing the tap I get into the shower and turn the water on full blast.

I jump as the cold water hits me.

When I finally manage to get it all out of my hair, Dee is already out of the room, unable to control her laughter, and Amz is looking at my hair in horror.

I get out of the shower, my clothes and shoes soaking wet.

Filled with dread, I glance into the mirror… and gasp!

They put frikken bleach in my shampoo!!!

My light brown streaks I had gotten only last month are white. Patches of my hair are a different shade to the rest.

I grab my phone, furious.

“ZIYAAD MOOLLA, START DIGGING YOUR GRAVE, BOY!!!” I yell, not giving him a chance to greet. “WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?! DO YOU KNOW HOW HORRIBLE MY HAIR LOOKS?! HOW AM I EVER GOING TO GO OUT OF THE HOUSE LOOKING LIKE MY HAIR HAS A DISEASE!”

And then I start crying.

“You’re such an idiot! Everything is just a big ass joke for you!!” I say, crying harder. “Laugh now also, why don’t you?!”

“Hey S, calm down honey,” Amz says quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!!” I scream at her. “It’s not your hair!”

“It’s just a joke Sumi,” Dee says. Her expression is serious, her laughter having stopped at my outburst, but I don’t notice.

“Shut up! It’s a stupid, dumb, idiotic joke that isn’t funny at all!” I yell at her.

Storming out of the bathroom, I head downstairs, my blood boiling.

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6 thoughts on “One Hundred and Eleven

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