...
Why are you always so nice to me?

If you weren't so nice to me maybe I would find it easier to forget about you.
...

It was a typical afternoon at York Academy.

A large, antique clock hung over the common room.

Four twelfth year boys sat at one end of the room during a free period, their chairs making a circle around the desk that was often reserved by them, their faces strained with concentration. Their blazers were shrugged off, and messily placed around the table and over the chairs.

A paper ball landed on their table, pulling Malika out of her thoughts.

Farrah let out an annoyed sigh as she looked at the crumpled paper on her displayed books and copies. She lifted her nose from the book she was reading and shot an annoyed glance to her right.

The boisterous laughs around the boys' table turned into muffled sniggers as she looked at them. Aryan turned his chair towards their direction - its feet screeching against the floor - and took a big step forward.

"Sorry, fat- I mean, Farrah," he said, picking up the ball from her belongings, his lips quirked in a smirk.

Farrah gritted her teeth. "Just be quiet," she said over her shoulder and went back to work.

The boys resumed their game of throwing the ball in the waste paper basket that they had placed on the table, letting out cheers of celebration every time someone scored.

Dahlia was studying with Farah as well, but unlike her friend, she kept her gaze strictly on the books and completely ignored the boys behind them. Layla was sitting on one of the rickety chairs like the rest, her eyes glued to her phone, blissfully unaware of her surroundings.

Two minutes later, the paper ball was back on top of Farrah's desk.

She slammed her book shut and turned to them. This time, Dahlia gritted her teeth and looked over her shoulder as well.

Aryan was shaking with silent laughter this time, his head tucked between his hands. His companions were in no better condition.

"Should have gone to the library if you wanted to study, ladies," Shahriar Kabir piped in.

"I'm sorry, Farrah," Zakariya spoke up this time, ignoring his friends.

He got up from his seat and walked towards them. He picked up the crumpled paper and threw them a smile. "We'll try to keep it down," he promised.

Farrah lowered her head over the books again, eyes filled with frustration.

Malika placed both her elbows on the table and rested her chin over her laced fingers, darting her eyes towards Aryan. "Stop bothering my friend."

"They wouldn't have come to the common room if they didn't want to be bothered by us," Aryan retorted.

"Stop talking about us like we're not here," Dahlia raised her head, snapping at him. "And going to the library wouldn't have made a difference. You're just as annoying there as you are here, Aryan."

Aryan let out a loud "ooh" and placed a hand over his heart, glancing at the quiet girl for the first time, an interest sparkling in his eyes.

The rest of the boys went back to their game and Aryan dragged his chair towards the girls half an inch.

"Watcha working on, Fari?" he asked Farrah, even though his gaze was on Dahlia. But he didn't dare address her directly with her brother present.

"Chemistry assignment," Farrah replied with apathy, her eyes back on her book.

"Wow, you're so smart," he mused. "Tell me more."

A second later, the paper ball hit the side of Malika's head, displacing her carefully styled hair.

A soft gasp left her lips at surprise from the impact. She looked down and saw the crumpled piece of paper on her lap.

Snickers rose from the table in the center of the room, loud clapping against the desk hit her ears.

"You hit the she-demon!" Aryan cried. "Run before she drags you to hell."

She narrowed her eyes and turned to look at the boys, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her eyes two pits of fire.

What met her was Ibrahim's stunned gaze, his hand still slightly raised.

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. He lowered his hands on his lap. "I'm sorry, Malika," she heard his deep voice say.

The anger in Malika's heart diffused as if someone threw a bucket of water over her. Why did he have to sound so darn sincere?

She looked away quickly. Without a word, she simply leaned forward and handed the worn-out paper ball to Aryan, who was the closest.

One of the boys took the paper ball from Aryan's hand and readjusted the waste basket, preparing for another round.

"Let's give it a rest," Ibrahim said. He picked up the basket from the center of the table and placed it near his left foot. There were protests, but the assertiveness in Ibrahim's eyes said they were done.

Malika gave him another unreadable glance, but quickly averted her gaze before she could be caught. Farrah was digging glares at the boys with a new determination in her eyes.

"They are getting out of hand," she said, more to herself than to her friends, her eyes on the twelfth year boys of York who were acting like they belonged in kindergarten. "We need to do something about them."

Aryan turned in his seat. "What are you going to do, Furryboo?" he asked with an amused grin. "Complain to a teacher?"

Farrah narrowed her eyes at him for just a faction but didn't say anything.

"Don't mess with her, Aryan," Layla piped in. "She can be vicious when she wants to be."

"Really?" he snickered. "So you'll take it to the principal, I'm guessing?"

He laughed boisterously at his own retort, a few of his friends joining him. Farrah dismissed them completely and remained eerily calm. "I'll teach them such a lesson they'll never forget it for life. They won't even see it coming," she was muttering under her breath.

They quickly dispersed once the boys started another game, this time, they tried to measure who could spit the furthest. Farrah was too grossed out to even be in the same room as them.

They walked towards the cafeteria as it was almost lunchtime. Malika shoved a hand inside her blazer's inner pocket as she heard a beep.

Seeing her check her phone, Farrah asked, "Is it Imran?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"No, Umaiza," Malika responded. That name caused even a greater reaction of dislike. She was getting tired of all this drama. Malika halted. "I need to go meet them."

The other girls ceased to walk as well. "Right now?" Farrah asked.

"Yeah."

"Are you at least going to join us after lunch?"

The sting in Farrah's voice made her cringe. It had been four years, yet the wedge that was driven between their friendship because of her relationship with Imran was something Farrah could never get over. Malika tried her best to balance between the groups, yet, she knew that was an impossible feat.

"I don't know, Fari," she said, letting out a sigh.

Without waiting to see the disappointment in her friend's face, she murmured a quick goodbye and spun on her heels. Malika was already making her way out of the hallway and into the front yard.

As she stepped out of the air conditioned building, the summer heat hit her in full blast. She found her boyfriend and his friends gathered near the Banyan tree.

The girls shot her looks filled with venom. Umaiza barely acknowledged her presence. Imran greeted her with a big smile and by gripping her tightly by the shoulder.

"Did you hear the big news?" Ryan asked. "Our boy's now the captain of the football team."

There were cheers around the group. Imran flashed her a massive grin. Malika managed to mutter an unenthusiastic, "Congratulations."

"So, where are we celebrating?" Ryan asked Imran.

"Where ever you want ."

Umaira's eyes, on the other hand, was trained on Malika. "Are you getting an upgrade?" she asked. She swiftly flitted her innocent eyes towards Imran. "I mean, you should ask your father an upgrade for your car. You've earned it."

Blood was ringing in Malika's ears. Her eyes were solely focused on the girl in front of her. She didn't lose her temper easily, however, the four years worth of passive aggressive bullying had thinned out her patience.

"You don't skip a beat, do you, Umaiza?" Malika spoke up. "I'm so done with you." Her sudden cry caught the attention of all the eyes around the group. Umaiza was caught off guard.

"What are you talking about?" It took her a moment to overcome the initial shock. The next second, she looked like she had no idea why Malika was acting the way she did. She asked the question with a steady voice, tilting her head as confusion pooled her eyes.

Malika let out a scoff, done putting up with the girl. "Don't act like you don't have a clue." She rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about your constant innuendos about my character and my worth," she stated through clenched teeth. "When she mentioned you upgrading, she meant me," Malika clarified, looking at Imran.

"Don't be dramatic, Lia," Umaira said, rolling her eyes dismissively at Malika.

She stared at the girl. Umaira was really good at making people feel worthless, Malika had to give her that. She did it so effortlessly it was almost art.

However, if spending all these years with Umaira had taught her anything, it's how to fight fire with fire. "No, I feel like being dramatic today," Malika retorted.

The girl narrowed her eyes, almost closing them into her signature slit. There were uncomfortable shuffling of feet around her. "Lia," Imran warned.

Malika ignored him. "Before you insinuate I'm a whore again, know that I know every single one of your dirty secrets too. I know you had your eyes on Imran before landing Ryan. You couldn't get him because he couldn't care less about you. He wanted me."

The words were a slap against Umaira's face. There was a stunned silence across the group. She slowly unraveled. Ryan's eyes, filled with betrayal, landed on her.

"How dare you?" Umaira quietly seethed. "Stop lying."

"Call it what you want, but I know it's the truth. You all secretly do."

Umaira's calm and composed demeanor was finally shed. Malika saw the rage on her face, the one that was always lurking beneath the surface. She felt an ugly satisfaction fill her chest.

"This idiot is just spewing lies like she always does." Umaira flitted her angry eyes towards Imran. "You know this girl doesn't care about you, right? She never did. She's just saying these things to drive a wedge between you and Ryan."

Malika snorted as she turned her eyes towards her boyfriend. Imran looked shocked, also slightly confused with the turn the situation took. He met her eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"Well, at least stand up for me," Malika demanded.

Imran closed his mouth. Malika saw his adam's apple bob up an down as he swallowed. He quickly regained his composure as he lifted his gaze toward her again. "You didn't have to start this drama during my big announcement. You could've at least let me have my moment."

Malika pursed her lips with anger, her heart throbbing violently. She knew he always understood Umaira's innuendos, and still let them slide. He would never stand up for her against his friends.

"You know what?" Malika let out a deep breath. "I'm actually done with all of you." Her eyes landed on Imran. "We're over."

She was starting to walk away. "You're breaking up with me?" He let out a loud scoff. "You can't do that." His voice was so sharp it triggered an uneasiness in her heart. "I think Umaira's right, you aren't good enough for me. Never were." Imran's words made her halt.

"Should have thought of that before you begged me to go out with you for months," Malika said, looking over her shoulder.

Imran's eyes flashed menacingly. "The way you kept parading with heavy makeup and trying to catch my attention by squeezing into the tiniest possible skirt, as if I had a choice."

A block of ice slid down her throat. Malika turned to face him fully as she let out a ridiculed laugh. "Of all the boys in the school, why would I bare my body for you? You barely reached my shoulder until last year."

Imran was furious now. Every single pair of eyes were staring at Malika with scorn. "You have the nerve-"

"Yeah, I do," she interjected. "I'm also officially breaking up with you. Again."

With that, she turned on her heels and walked away.

A/N: I have changed the setting of the books to Chittagong, the port city of Bangladesh. However, the schools and names of neighborhoods remain mostly fictional.