God most of known Ziyah looked at me and kissed someone else because I saw him in each of my passing periods which didn't happen before Friday. He pretended like he didn't see me, and I did the same even though I clearly saw him.
Ziyah not looking at me like he used to hurt, but I'm not hiding in some hoodie looking my worst like most girls post breakup. Because i'm not going through a breakup and I'm not going to be sad or look sad over a boy. For a moment I did feel insecure, rejected, and like I wasted my time, but I try and forget those feelings and the image of Ziyah and the beautiful girl.
I push the thought to the back of my head, and continue to watch my short film. With the footage I took from both Thursday and Friday the film is pretty much completed along with my narrations that I did last night with the door locked and a blanket over my head as I recorded into voice memos. I have to get this film done and submitted before finals when school will be the only thing that matters.
I finish editing my film when the lunch bell rings and my stomach gets all tight again. Ziyah and I were able to avoid each other, but now we have to be in the same room for 50 minutes. Sure we're not sitting right next to each other and there are 30 other students in the class, but he's the only person besides Harper who I actually was friends with. Instead of taking my sweet time I quickly weave through people in the hallways and get to French when the classroom is empty and Madame is finishing her salad.
"Bonjour Daya," she says.
"Bonjour Madame," I say and take my seat. She doesn't put the warm up on the projector and continues eating her mostly lettuce salad and I stare at the board. I don't let my eyes wander to the door, but my teeth begin to chatter when I hear more footsteps.
Madame puts the warm up on when passing period ends and I bury my head in my binder and I try not to take too many looks at the board. When Ziyah comes in my teeth chatter more and no matter how many buttons I button on my denim jacket they don't stop.
I feel Unna's eyes on me and I look up and she's shaking her head. "What's wrong with you it's not that cold honey."
"Sorry," I mutter and go back to having my nose an inch from my paper. She goes back to conversing with the girl across from her.
The whole period goes as slow as possible and I take small glances at Ziyah, but quickly turn my head. Along with Ziyah not turning my way having no one to talk to or exchange vocabulary with makes me keep my head down lower to the point my neck hurts. Ziyah shouldn't be able to make me feel this way, or rather I shouldn't let him, but I can't manage to plaster a smile on my face.
Making my day worse Unna stops me when I'm trying to escape to my locker to get my tennis clothes.
"Daya can I ask you something?" She says right outside of the classroom. I already know the question it is when are you getting your braids done. It's approaching 2 months since I've gotten mine in, and since mine aren't as small as hers you can see the growth. If it weren't for our school's hat policy I would've been able to cover the frizz, but no only Marina High School hats are allowed.
"I'm getting them done next week Unna."
"That's not what I was going to ask," she smacks her pink lips and continues. "When is the last time you washed those braids cause girl those things are ripe." Oh please be kidding, please be some sick joke. Why is it always the end of 5th period she chooses to bring me down.
My mouth goes dry and I can't make out any words, "Umm I washed them two days ago," I say.
"Girl don't lie Fernando and I couldn't focus with the smell of those braids."
I want to tell her maybe she's smelling her upper lip, but I don't have it in me. What I do have are tears that my whole occipital lobe are trying to hold back. It's like she knows insecurities like these are all that go through my head when sitting in class.
I pick one of my braids and it fiddle it between my fingers. "Is the smell that bad?"
"Girl I'm pretty sure the whole class could smell it." Of course when she says whole class there is only one person I'm thinking of. The dumbest thought crosses my mind. Is that why he kissed the girl because my braids smell? Has the whole class been talking about it and smelling it. No Daya you're not the sun chill.
"Are you sure?" She's convinced me that I'm disgusting and that's why the one person I want to look at me won't, but I'm speaking to prevent my tears coming down.
"Yes girl this isn't shade I'm trying to help you out." Ahh yes the words that make her precious statements seem like they're coming from the heart. She walks away and I head to my locker trying to hold my tears. I fail, and when I bend down to open my locker a few spill down my cheeks. I pick one of my braids and put it under my nose, and I only smell a whiff my coconut hairspray.
I wipe my tears and they don't keep coming down, but my face is in a permanent frown.
In 6th period I hit every ball with force out of anger against the all, and my time at the elementary school cheers me up. The kids leave early so I do as well and I'm taken back when I see Ziyah at the bottom of the ramp of the elementary school bungalow.
"Daya." He says in low tone I've never heard him use. He stands a good distance away from me leaning against the railing of the bungalow. He isn't baring a smirk, and isn't staring right at me, but more at the hopscotch squares and I do the same. Unlike last week I'm not immediately captivated by his appearance and my cheeks don't feel a thing.
"Yes," I say and cross my arms over my chest.
Like he's making sure he isn't caught talking to the smelly girl Ziyah looks all around him before taking a step closer. He minimizes the space between us and stands right in front of me with his hands in his jean pockets.
He doesn't need to raise my chin and his eyes make me look up at him.
"Are you ok?" He stares off to the side. He's got to be serious, why does he care if I'm ok?
"I'm fine, Sofia gets picked up in the auditorium now." I point to the direction of the auditorium, and I want to walk away from him, but he fixates his eyes on to me.
"I'm sorry Daya." His tone is at his lowest I've ever heard it, and I'm sure he means it, but I don't care about him anymore.
"You should've just kissed her you didn't have to look at me." That's been my number one thought since Friday. If he didn't look at me, I could've pretended I never saw it, and texted him later like nothing happened. "You have nothing to be sorry about I don't care." I do care though. I don't have anywhere to go but watch Vince's practice, but I decide I want to leave now.
I only get one step in before I feel Ziyah's hand lightly touch mine and I turn around. He holds my hand so gently not like those possessive guys in movies who are made to look romantic when they forcefully grab their girl and make her come back.
"You're shutting down," he whispers and still holds my hand. I'm going to shut down if I want to. I bring myself closer to him and he does the same. He doesn't drop my hand and holds the other one the same leaving not much space between us. His thumb rubs against my hand softly, but it's not soft enough to stop my onslaught of thoughts.
"Is it because my hair smells? Because if so I'm sorry your nostrils had to go through that." I move my hand from his and back away from him.
"Your hair smells like coconut."
"Are you sure because according to someone the whole class in 5th period can smell it." My voice raises.
"If anyone is smelling anyone's hair it's mine, you know how hard it is to wash dreads." I don't, but when my dad washes his hair we always need a new bottle of shampoo. Ziyah's hair only smells like cinnamon, but I'm too filled with mixed emotions to breathe in the nice scent.
Thinking of my dad with his long dreads in a towel makes me smile a little, but It goes away.
"Then what is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"What's wrong with me?" Another thought that I've pushed to the back of my head.
"Daya nothing is wrong with you, you're amazing and beautiful." He shoves his hands back in his pockets and while I look at the handball courts he looks right at me. Beautiful? I thought I was just adorable to him. I want to smile and say thank you and kiss him, but there's some things I still don't get. If I'm so beautiful and amazing why did he kiss her?
"So you like me?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you kiss that girl right in front of me."
"I," he stops talking as a bunch of loud voices emerge behind us. I turn around and some boys from our school pass by on the other side of the fence. Some of them are on the JV football team and they're all pretty annoying as they bump loud music.
I turn back to Ziyah and his chill composure that I loved is nowhere to be found as he strokes his dreads and seems to be breathing heavier.
"Daya I have to go I'm sorry." With that being said he scurries off in the direction of the auditorium. That had to be one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had next to my 6th grade sex Ed talk with Harper.
*****
Author's Note
So I'm going to write a second book to Daya but I was wondering if it should be in Ziyah's POV. Along with that I wanna do a spin off novel because I really do love these characters. I would really critiques and your thoughts on the characters because that really helps me when I'm writing by the way. I also don't have a perfect cast in mind but I would love to hear who your picture these characters as.
Anyway
Who's your favorite character so far?
What are your predictions for the ending?
What character do you want to hear more from?