“He’s your school buddy, right?” Hayley asks. “Ugh, you’re so lucky.”
“You have a boyfriend,” Alexis reminds her.
“I’m just saying.” Hayley sticks out her tongue at Alexis.
“Sure.” Jenny rolls her eyes.
I take out my schedule from my pocket. I have physics in ten minutes. “Do all the teachers here speak that fast? How do you have time to take all the notes?”
They give me sympathetic looks while we round a corner.
“Dr. Bradley speaks like a snail compared with the other teachers,” Alexis says. “They all have PhDs here. So you have to call them ‘doctor.’”
I gape at her. “Snail speed?”
Jenny glances around her. “What most people do is record the lessons and listen to them after to fill in the blanks they missed.”
“I’m guessing it’s not allowed,” I say.
She nods. “But it’s the only way to survive, really. You need tohave a good GPA, or you’ll be kicked out. But, I suppose, it’s not that important for you.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.
Hayley and Nicole exchange quick glances.
“Because it’s senior year?” Jenny says, frowning. “It’s the last GPA you’ll ever get.”
“Right,” I say quickly, feeling hot under my shirt.
Things don’t get better with the rest of the classes. I can barely keep up, and frustration kneads inside me. I don’t share all my classes with Alexis and her friends, but Jamie is in most of mine. My mind is too crowded with the never-ending thought ofI don’t want to be hereto think of anything else. The only reprieve is a text from Alexis telling me to meet her in the cafeteria at lunch.
At long last the lunch bell rings, and I can breathe.
The cafeteria looks like something out of a food lover’s dream. There’s a long table filled with silver dishes from appetizers to several main course meals, and dessert. There are actual chefs with hats cooking behind a plexiglass wall where students can put in requests.
I find Alexis standing in the line, her hair bobbing up and down. She’s turning around like she’s looking for someone, and when she sees me, she smiles wide, beckoning me closer.
“Hey!” she says. “You made it. We’re just getting lunch. Do you want to join?”
Her friends give me a smile before returning to their conversation.
I know that in addition to regular tuition fees, there are options to add lunch and snacks among other things, but Baba can barely pay the base fee.
“Um—” I begin, clearing my throat and pat my bag. “I’ve got my own food.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks turn a shade darker, and awkwardness turns the air sour between us. We’ve never really spoken outright about the difference in our financial standing. I was never jealous she had more.I was jealous her mother’s lungs were strong and healthy while my mother’s were deteriorating to ash.
“You want me to grab you anything?” She nods toward the food station.
I appreciate the gesture. “Thank you, but really, Amal made me lunch today.”
Alexis gives me a half-hearted smile. “Get an empty table and we’ll find you.”
I nod and watch her grab a tray.
Looking around, I spot a free table and make my way toward it. I put my bag down and take out the lunch Amal gave me. She made me my favorite Syrian dish. Mama would make it only once a year because it takes a lot of time and effort. And she didn’t have much strength after the diagnosis.
Mehshi.
