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‘Come out, Farah.’ Gibitah’s voice is too chirpy on the other end of the line. ‘Staying holed up in your flat makes it look like you’re hiding.’
‘I am hiding,’ I argue, face pressed into my pillow. Gibitah’s ability to understand my garbled words is a talent.
‘Well, stop it. Whatever that contract was – and you don’t have to tell me what it was – Zayan is dealing with it.’
In this moment, I love Gibitah. I love her for not probing for more, even though she undoubtedly deserves answers. I love her for being there when I need her.
‘You’re right.’
I don’t mention how terrified I am of what he’ll say. What if Lacey instructs him to dissociate from me? I didn’t … I didn’t get to say goodbye to our fake relationship. I haven’t had the chance of imagining my life without Zayan in it.
‘Then the best thing you can do is appear unaffected,’ Gibitah continues, completely unaware of my inner turmoil. ‘Now, come to the library. We’ll study, and then we’ll gossip about how this contract was most definitely released by the LSDCATS.’
‘You don’t know that,’ I remind her, trying to focus on the mysterious ‘inside source’ the article mentioned rather than the impending end of my fake relationship.
I know, logically, that this screams LSDCATS, though it’s underhanded and cruel in a way I didn’t think they were capable of. But my mind won’t shut up and stop telling me that it could be Zayan.
Gibitah snorts disbelievingly. ‘Whatever you say, Farah. Now, come on. Library, thirty minutes.’
I’m in a mental torture chamber.
I can’t focus on what I’m supposed to be studying, so my mind wanders and drifts. I force myself not to think of the article – even as I feel the eyes of all the students around me glaring holes into my skin – but that just means thinking about Zayan.
Why did Zayan touch me like that? What did it mean?
Did he want to cross that line, or did he just get caught up in our attraction?
Was it real or pretend?
The words in my textbook are blurring in front of my eyes from how tired I am. When I look up, I see a couple of people whispering together, eyes darting towards me. A blush warms the back of my neck, worsening my headache.
‘You look ready to keel over,’ Gibitah murmurs from the seat beside me.
‘Your observations are amazing.’
My forced smile causes Gibitah’s eyes to narrow in suspicion. Not sleeping has thrown me off my game. But before she can give in to her curiosity, I make a show of turning back to my books and appearing studious. She lets me be, and I spend all of five minutes reading a passage before giving up and searching my bag for my lunch.
While I’m bent over my bag, I hear the first whispers of a conversation, catching the stray sound of my name from someone else’s lips. I look up to see two girls on my left. The one who’s talking has a smile etched on her face, and her pale skin has a slight pink tinge to it from the cold.
‘Did you see that article about Farah Sheikh?’ she says, giving a cursory glance around the library. The girl beside her, wearing a sweatshirt that reads ON WEDNESDAYS WE WEAR PINK, perks up, while my heart turns to stone. They haven’t noticed me yet, but it’s only a matter of time. ‘I mean, I’m not surprised. Her people are so opportunistic.’
My people?
‘Just your average Paki,’ the Mean Girls-sweatshirted one mutters, loud enough for her friends and me – the eavesdropper – to hear.
I gasp, unwillingly, at her use of the word. I’ve never heard anyone say it before. I know it exists, but I didn’t think someone would ever say it. No one.
Their heads turn to me, and instead of blushing, or paling, or looking even slightly remorseful, they break into quiet giggles. A cold feeling seeps through my body, and as much as I’d like to look away from these girls, I can’t. I feel compelled to keep staring. Waiting. Waiting for them to say something. To apologize.
‘Maisie,’ the first girl whispers, ‘I think she just heard you.’
‘So? I’m not scared,’ Maisie replies, just loud enough for me to hear. ‘She’s already lost Zayan. She’s going to go back to being a nobody.’ Then her eyes fall to me once more. ‘I’m not afraid of a Paki.’
‘What did you just say?’ Gibitah’s voice is loud, and it makes me jump. The three girls startle as well, looking away from me to my friend behind me.
‘Gibitah,’ I hiss, as other people begin to look our way as well. I can feel them working out who I am, recognition replacing confusion.
‘No, Farah! You can’t just let that slide.’ Gibitah turns to me, all thunderous fury. ‘She just called you –’
