I put on beige-coloured baggy pants and tuck a white full-sleeved shirt into it. I also put on a beige headscarf and push my hair inside the headscarf until none of them is showing.

Looking into my reflection, I can't help but wonder why everyone finds me ugly. Growing up, my parents would always tell me how pretty I was. The second I stepped in the school, I was called ugly by almost everyone.

Was it because I didn't want to show my hair?

Was I really that ugly?

With a sigh, I look at my make-up bag. I rarely use them but today I feel like I should. However, the letter from yesterday makes me rethink my decision. I apply concealer under my eyes and nothing else.

The letter didn't really say much. It said something about me looking 'good' in my headscarf, even without using 'ridiculous amount of make up'. It was written in a messy handwriting, without a name. For all I know, this could be a prank.

However, something tells me it isn't.

And even if it didn't say much, that is all the compliment I am ever going to get in high school, so I'm just going to believe it.

"Are you done, sweetie?" I hear my mom's voice from outside my door.

"Yeah mama, I'm almost done," I reply, looking at the time. Shit, I'm late. I pull the backpack my mom and I had packed for the week, it doesn't move an inch.

It doesn't have much- just a few pair of clothes, make-up bag, moisturiser, water bottle, food, some more food, headscarves, a few pairs of underwears and socks, a comfortable pair of shoes. Also- my camera. And my journal. Also, my prayer mat. Why do I feel like I'm missing something?

"Honey, you're going to be late."

Shit.

I pull the backpack outside my room with all my might. I should have packed a suitcase with wheels instead, it'd be hella easy to roll around.

Huffing, I pull it outside, my arms are cramping already.

Don't I just love my life?

. . .

Karim pulls the backpack easily, like it weighs nothing at all. I'm so jealous of his muscles, lucky son of a biscuit. How am I supposed to carry it later?

I get inside the bus and stifle a groan, it's almost packed. Perks of being late, yay. I find my group at the back of the bus. There are two empty seats, one besides Theo and the other next to Zayd.

We lock eyes, Zayd's eyes have the usual storm in them, cold fire burning in his eyes- as always. He is leaning back, looking as if he owns the whole damn place, in this case- the whole damn bus. His eyes burn into mine with great intensity, I'm always mesmerized by the colour of his eyes.

I bet his heart is of the same colour. Blue. That is- if he has a heart.

He shifts a little to the side. Is he.. does he want me to sit next to him? I hold my breath, that isn't possible.

I turn and look at Theo. He welcomes me with a cute smile, his chocolate brown hair falls into his forehead. He is way welcoming than the coldie over there and after the promise I made to myself, I'm just going to follow my brain.

I walk to Theo and flop next to him.

"Hey beautiful," he says with a friendly grin, turning towards me. He is sitting in the window seat and I wish I wasn't late. I love looking outside the window during rides, the cold air that hits you in the face is the best feeling.

Why does it remind me of the night at Zayd's place? I feel my heart clench. Stupid stupid heart!

"Hi, pretty boy," I greet him. His face scrunches and I giggle.

I feel eyes on me and I find myself rolling my eyes. Zayd just can't see me happy, can he? The engine starts and the bus starts moving. Cheers erupt from the bus.

Theo and I talk about random stuff non-stop for an entire hour. It feels strange, good strange. Is this how having a friend feels like? I've been missing so much.

A comfortable silence blankets over us and a few minutes later I feel a weight on my shoulder. Theo's head is resting on my shoulder, he's asleep. I let him be.

This time, I feel two pair of eyes on me. The first one belongs to Zayd, of course. No surprise there. He is glaring daggers at Theo.

I have a friend, ha! Suck it Zayd.

The other belongs to.. the queen bee. Violet glares at me, her eyes are icy cold and she looks like she wants to scald my hair. Though her glare is nowhere as strong as Zayd's, the way they are looking at me is somewhat similar.

Could it be that Violet liked Theo, or something? I remember the day Theo kissed me, she didn't look like she enjoyed the show.

I had to let her know I wasn't a threat. Maybe I should clear it up later. Or maybe she just hated me because we were in the same group.

To clear my mind, I pull my phone and my AirPods out from my pocket.

I put on 'hopeful' by Bars and Melody and lean back on my seat, closing my eyes. I drown into the song.

I wake up every day,

don't wanna leave my home.

My mamma's askin' me

why I'm always alone.

Too scared to say,

too scared to holler.

I'm walking to school

with sweat around my collar.

I smile at the lyrics, the sad kind of smile. The song gives me hope. I'm not the only one who goes through stuff like these.

My nerves are bad,

my life's a mess.

The names you call me,

they hurt real bad.

I open my eyes and turn my head to see Zayd. He's still looking at me. He hasn't stopped looking at me once and it has already been two hours. I feel a bit flustered.

He meets my eye. We stay like that while I remain listening to the song.

You call me a loser,

you call me a fool.

I ain't got a choice,

I gotta go to school.

I wish I had an angel

to stick by my side.

I'm shaking with fear,

I'm so scared inside.

Doesn't really matter

if I ain't got the looks.

I look away and remove my AirPods, the hole inside my heart reopens. I concentrate on the change in sceneries, we've already reached the countryside. A few more hours and we will reach the tip of the hill we are about to ascend.

Before I know it, I again find myself looking at Zayd. He's looking outside now. His hair is dishevelled and his leather jacket is on, like always. My eyes fall on his pocket.

I freeze, my heart stops beating. I hold my breath and look at the familiar red paper peaking from his pocket.

The same red paper.

Zayd turns and finds me looking at the paper. His eyes widen by a fraction and he pushes the paper inside hastily.

I look away, my head whips to the opposite side. I don't have the courage to look at his reaction. My palms start sweating, my heartbeat turns erratic.

Did he have something to do with the letter I got yesterday?

I was going to get my answers. I blush remembering the last time I tried to 'get my answers'.

No matter what, I will get my answers.