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hi guys!!!! This is the next part for Project 17. I hope you like it. please comment and like if you do. Sorry for the mistakes that i made...
Chapter 7: Asad
We're getting together tonight to plan things out. I told my parents that I'm meeting some people from school for a class project, so they can't give me any crap- especially since I arranged to meet the crew here, at the diner, where I'd be taking my dinner break anyways.
At about five past seven everybody starts showing up- first Humaira and Ayaan, these two drama rats from school, and then Tanveer. At about 7:20, I really start to sweat it, checking myself in the door's glass reflection, making sure my pants aren't too baggy, that my shirt hangs just right, that my hair doesn't stick up too much.
Because I am still expecting one more person.
Zoya Farooqui.
The most incredible girl in the school.
I first noticed her during our freshman year- standing on the curb, waiting for the bus, this long black hair hanging down past her shoulders, reminding me of licorice. I think she caught me gawking at her because she paused from her book to look up- right at me, standing barely five feet away.
I tried to smile, to think up something cool to say, but then I noticed the title of the book she was reading- something written in French or Spanish or I don't know what. But it was way over my head. And so I just stood there, sort of dumbstruck- literally' watching her watch me.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked, wiping her cheek like she had food on her face.
I shook my head, noticing how her sweater matched her eyes- a light shade of brown. I tried to think up something smart to say about it, but then she moved away, back toward the bus circle, probably skeeved out.
But that wasn't the end of it.
The very next day I got the lowdown on her- how she's complete and total brainiac, only interested in books; how she doesn't give anyone, save the ball-busting teachers, the time of day; and how she doesn't date. Period.
Normally I accept a challenge when I hear of one. But every time I got close to the girl- to try and talk to her- I totally froze up. I mean, what do you say to a girl who's got her face in a book every time you see her? Who sneaks her lunch into the library, instead of eating in the cafeteria, so she can squeeze in some extra study time? The girl who sits in the front row of every class she's ever been in, who raises her hand to answer every question, and who asks the teacher for extra work just so she can get ahead?
Crazy. But what's even crazier is that she contacted me about this project. She came running up to me this morning at school, asking me if I could be in his film- no questions asked.
"Are you serious?" I asked, all but jumping up and down. "That would be amazing."
"Really?" Her brow crinkled up like it came as some big surprise that I'd let her on board.
"Amazing," I repeated, feeling like a complete and total idiot as soon as the word came out. But honestly, what else could I say? I mean, the girl is complete eye candy- like RTV won't eat that up. I wouldn't mind eating it up either.
I signal to ammi that my group is here and then whip off my apron to join them in the corner booth.
"Are we it?" Ayaan asks, pulling out his day planner. "Just the four of us?"
I shake my head just as Zoya comes in. And honestly, she couldn't look any cuter- tight black turtleneck, short wool skirt, tiny black glasses, and hair tied up in a messy ponytail, like a hot little schoolgirl.
Zoya scoots in beside Tanveer, and I do my best to focus, starting with the introductions. I thank them for coming, tell them how great this is going to be, and then we get right down to business. We talk about all the practical stuff first- where to meet, what to bring, and what to say to our parents since we're going to be out all night.
"All night?" Humaira squawks. "Why can't we just leave when you're done filming?"
"It won't take all night," Ayaan says to assure her. "A small budget production like this shouldn't take us more than a few hours."
"No way," I say. "We're spending the night- end of story."
After all, there's a big difference between only having to stick it out for a couple of hours, and knowing that you're stuck there all night- until the next morning.
"Why can't we just pretend to stay there all night?" Humaira pushes. "We can totally make it look legit with some sleeping bags and backpacks."
"I want to do this right," I say. "If we play around, it's gonna look like we're playing around. I want this to be real."
"You're obviously not familiar with my acting abilities," Humaira says with an eye roll. "I make things look real."
"Realer than real, baby cakes." Ayaan winks at her.
"Wear dark clothes," I say, ignoring their crap. "And bring water and convenient stuff to eat- stuff you don't have to cook." I look at Zoya, who's actually taking notes; writing down my every word like this is history class or something.
"Anything else?" she asks, peering up at me when she's finished writing.
I want to tell her yes- that I can't help but wonder if she remembers me from that day, freshman year, near the bus circle, when I couldn't stop gawking at her.
"We should carpool," Tanveer says, snapping me back to the moment. "The place where we're going to park is pretty dead at night. It would suck if a cop drove by and saw a row of cars. It would definitely give us away."
"Is it true the place is haunted?" Humaira asks, fidgeting with the salt and the peppershakers.
"Don't worry, I'll be there to protect you." Ayaan- no bigger than my pinkie- wraps his matchstick arm around Humaira.
"What od you mean haunted?" Zoya cuts in.
"Are you serious?" Tanveer laughs. "You haven't heard about all the weird stuff that's happened there? People say that it doesn't even matter what the temperature is outside- I mean, it could be a blazing hot summer day but it's always super cold in there. They say you can hear the patients whispering through the drafts, telling you all about their suffering."
Zoya's eyes get mother big, making me want to put a muzzle on Tanveer, since all I need right now is for someone to back out, let alone Zoya.
"It's not illegal to go up there, is it?" Zoya asks.
"Tanveer's stud- pierced lips drops open. "What, do you live under a rock?"
Luckily, ammi interrupts the moment. She smacks a plateful of day old lemon doughnuts onto the table. "You kids are working hard?"
I nod and flash her a smile, thankful that she doesn't hang around.
A few moments later, the doorbells jangle as Imran pushes his way in. "Hey, scumbag," I say. "What are you doing here?" He's all wrapped up in some towel like thing, like a straitjacket, so his arms and hands don't move. "What the hell are you doing?" I ask him.
"Dressing for the occasion," he jokes.
"Are you serious? You changed your mind?"
Imran was one of the first people I asked. Not because he's a good buddy of mine or anything. The guy's more annoying than anything else. He's a clown. But he tries to be funny, and, all considered, I thought the movie might need some of that.
"Yeah, I'm going," he says. "This mummy stuff is pretty hot."
"Who clocked you?" I ask, noticing his shiner- a dark patch right below his left eye.
"Nobody," he says. "I just thought it went with the outfit."
"You're the man," I say, standing up. Not thinking, I go to give him a high five, but instead, end up fiveing his elbow.
I pull a chair over for him, and we get back down to business, talking about our plans for another good half hour. "So tomorrow night," I say as things are breaking up.
I take on last look at my group- at Humaira and Ayaan, now feeding each other fingerfuls of lemon filling from the doughnuts; at Zoya, still taking notes; at Tanveer in all her layers of blackness; and then at Imran in his straitjacket.
"This is going to be one awesome movie," I say, more excited than I ever thought possible.
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