|Imran Adebayo Ibrahim|

Finishing Isha prayer, I jumped off the praying rug and slid into my most comfortable and highly expensive cloth: my Lacoste polo and my plaid pants. I earned a spot at that rager and I wasn't ready to let it — besides I was going with my new friend, Francis. After proper grooming of my personal hygiene, I was ready to leave, the only thing I had to do was find a way to drag Zayd with me.

He surely was a dragon, but I had slayed a scarier dragon and once I am determined there's nothing else that'll change my mind.

His room was next to mine yet I couldn't describe what his door looked like. I stood at the doorstep and read the placard he hung outside his room inaudibly.

18+ only.

Sincerely, I expecting that, in fact what I was expecting was far from a R-rated placard. I knocked harshly, showing him I wasn't there for a joke.

"Fuck off!" He yelled from inside.

It will take a lot more than cussing to chase me away. I knocked even harder this time, aiming for the soft spot inside his hair. And as I intended, the knocking sound went straight into his ears and I could hear him jump down from his bed. Awkwardly, I organized myself, rehearsing what I was to say to him.

Opening the door, he stood in front of his door, blocking the entrance with his large body. His shirt was off and the only clothing he was wearing was shorts which were exposing his torso. For a minute I blanked, surprised by how fit he was without clothes on.

"You want something brah?" His voice broke my silly noon-dreaming.

"No." I said like I was under hypnotism. My eyes were still glued to his broad chest. God knows I'll kill to be that fit. The door nearly shut before my hypnotism broke, I stopped the door from closing with my leg. "I-I. . . My friend is having a rager, I need you to drive me there." Like a pro, the lies just flew out of my mouth effortlessly.

"And why would I want to do that?" He questioned, ready to shut the door at my face.

"Well, lemme ask you this; what do you think Jamal would do if he finds out you have a 'shawty' in your room?" I threw my shots and it hit the bullseye.

"You wouldn't dare." He snarled.

I gasped exaggeratedly. "So there is a girl."

"This is not the end, prick. What time?"

"You've got five minutes left." I said unexpectedly calmly. I didn't even stutter. Was I getting comfortable around Zayd? Either way, I've got a rager to attend in nothing less than a minute or two.

After Zayd had finished the business I interrupted earlier — God knows what — we left for the rager. I desperately needed him, absolutely not because Ella wanted him to come but I also needed a navigator who knows the nooks and cranny of Atlanta. As Zayd drove his sporty truck on the busy night road, I could see his mouth muttering something — cusses I presumed. The Blondie that was in his room sat on the passenger's seat singing along with the music bustling from the car's boom player.

Me, on the other hand, sat at the back doing nothing but trying to enjoy the drug-in-music-form Montero Lamar Hill — Lil' Nas X was singing. Since I will soon be hearing many words I never thought existed, I better start pretending to like them from the safety of the vehicle.

But to be honest, Call Me By Your Name was a cool song. Lit to be precise.

"Whatcha doin'?" Zayd saw my head noodling from the rearview mirror.

I stiffened instantly, "nothing—" mumbling, I gazed sideways, staring at the beautiful view Atlanta had offered me. The street was drenched with the moonlight from above as the night light flickered along with every passing vehicle. The honking of the vehicles, their tyres screeching on the shiny asphalt due to friction rhymed together in harmony. Flowing with the music in the car and the cacophony surrounding the car.

Zayd huffed as he let go of the stirring wheel to slap my head, but I ducked. "Beautiful view?" He questioned, absolutely groaning inside given by the way his hand swung in the air.

"Shit! Stop dicking around and please focus on the road." The Blondie yelled the words I had prepared in my mind, the one I was ready to unleash, never.

Zayd let go of that wheel for good this time, singing to the music like a lunatic. "Don't worry Sophie, I'm a professional!" He whooped loudly and crashed straight into a convoy of silver trash cans. I was scared to my wits, my brain had shook from its original position, I held the driver's headrest in front of me like a little girl.

My stepbrother's crazy!

For a moment I thought I'd be able to witness the legendary Airbag-popping-out in action. I only see them in movies, I've never seen one in reality. Suddenly the thought of reality hit me, if ever I was to see an airbag pop out of the car's dashboard I have a price to pay. One of my appendages probably.

"Stop!" The realization of losing my limbs made me shout and held Zayd by his neck.

The sudden grip around his neck made him turn the wheels in a three-sixty-degrees kind of way. Me and the shawty screamed in fright.

"You're gonna get us to kill man."

Before I could say anything, everything happened fast like a flash of lightning: we crashed directly into someone's yard, vandalizing the wooden fence that was surrounding the house, running into what sounded like pumpkins or were they tomatoes. The squish sound the car's tyre made alerted us we might have run over a raccoon.

The poor creature. I know raccoons are scoundrels, but when you get to know them they're actually nice — I mean before they literally attack you.

"Oh man, I really don't wanna see a dead raccoon." I said, hyperventilating as I got down from the car. The first sight that welcomed me was red tacky liquid which was scattered everywhere and some mushy substance that looked a lot like guts. "Its gut's everywhere!" I yelled as my voice broke, it was breaking slowly into tears.

Zayd hurriedly bounced down off the vandalized vehicle. In his face, remorse was laid, regretting doing what he did to the poor raccoon. Getting to my side of the car, he roared in laughter and slapped that back of my head playfully — in his own opinion.

"Chillex pusshanigha, it's tomatoes." He said, Illuminating the true crime scene for me to see. There I saw Mr. Tomato's family being murdered.

I sighed in relief since it wasn't the raccoon's gut that was all over the car's frame. After my adrenaline secretion had lowered, my sense of hearing began working again and I noticed the house we crashed in was Ella's due to the loud music coming from the inside and the people making out outside.

"Next time you'll think twice before you ask me for a ride." Zayd said to me and I couldn't say anything but glared at him with my dagger eyeballs. "Let's go enjoy a junior's party Sophie, I bet they've got gas." He turned to the Blondie and they both danced inside, armed linked together like they haven't just murdered a healthy families of veggies.

"Hey new kid." I heard someone calling from behind. Like a nit, I hid behind the car. "It's Francis, you invited me here."

Standing up I smiled at Francis who was also chuckling silently. "Hey bruh. What's popping?" I mustered all the Atlanta I could gather and this even made him chuckle loudly.

"You're funny. Let's go in." Francis said, not bothering to know who crashed into the fence.

I followed him closely since he seemed to have an experience before. I didn't want to ruin everything I was determined to hide in Francis' shadows till the rager was over. Entering the house, I noticed how the perimeter was reeking with alcohol and infested with hormonally-unstable teenagers. Instantaneously, I realized the reasons behind the prohibition of parties in Islam.

Since I wasn't going to do anything wrong there, I would be safe from Allah's wrath. I assured myself.

"Here we are!" Francis had to yell for me to hear what he said. Nodding, I scanned the perimeter once again and I saw Zayd who was having a great time with his baseball buddies. They were all drinking something from red plastic cups and girls in exposive and tiny clothing were seated on their laps.

"It's gonna be great." I said awkwardly, I'm sure angry at Zayd. He wasn't supposed to be having so much fun, I was invited to that rager, not him. He didn't even care about his act of vandalism. The fire of vexation roared inside me as I saw Ella was also seated next to him. Coquettishly, she patted my stepbrother's hair.

I was determined to leave at that instance, turning at the exit, the door swung open and there she was standing in front of me.

I thought I wasn't special, but at that moment I was granted a superpower — I was able to slow down time. Everyone was dancing in slow MO, even the upbeat music changed into dance music. I felt like I was in the typical American prom movies.

What made this girl my perfect paradise was the fact that she was wearing a headscarf — signifying she was a Muslim. She came in with two baseball jocks, standing in the middle, frowning at everything she saw — like she was displeased at the word 'rager'. I was so carried away that I let our eyes jammed. We locked eyes for a minute and my heart beat faster than usual as she smiled at me in return. I turned tomato red as the desert that was once my stomach turned into a cornfield swirling with butterflies.

At that moment I knew I was in love.

"Hey-oh y'all! It's not a party if the Jabar's brother ain't in!" The jock on the girl's right side said as he lifted up two bottles of what seems like alcohol.

One of the jocks walked down to me and Francis and I could see beads of sweat had gathered on Francis' forehead, he was engulfed in anxiety. "Looks like the fag boy finally found himself a soulmate." He said, running Francis' perfect hair. As much as I feel like ripping the skin off his face I had to calm down before I'm stuffed inside the big bowl of alcohol in the radius of the room.

"Hello Malik." Francis forced out in sadness.

Malik faced me in awe, "and who do we have here? I've never seen this loser around. Everybody who invited these two losers!" He yelled, calling everyone's attention towards us.

Everybody stopped dancing and they faced us. I could hear murmurs coming from the lips of the party goers. Even Ella feigned ignorance like she wasn't the one who invited me in the first place - Christopher was no exception, he looked at me and Francis in disgust and yelled: "they're party crashers" which made everyone madder than they've when the music got tuned down.

"Hey Malik, pick on someone your size. Leave the kid alone." Zayd came to my rescue, he walked down to us and handed me a tequila. I was blinded by Zayd's caring side that I forgot the content in the tiny glass. Thinking it was water, I groaned as I emptied the glass in my mouth.

"See. . . they're pussies." The other jock said as they walked away and Zayd followed after a smirking right at my face.

"I'll go get you water." Francis announced in concern as he walked inside the river of people.

"This should help." Someone said to me and my pain numbed as I saw who it was. It was a headscarf girl, she had a bottle of water with her. I collected the bottle from her shyly. "I'm Sahar Jabar, we are in the same history class."

Saying that I was on cloud nine and I couldn't help the smile that was creaking out of my lips. She noticed me when everybody was being a jerk.

"I'm Imran Ade — Raymond. I'm Imran Raymond." I said, using my stepfather's last name not to make the whole romantic vibes weird.

Sahar gave me the most beautiful smile, exposing her incisors. "Wanna ditch this place?" She questioned.

"I thought you'd never ask." Those words flew out of my lips without hard work. I forgot the fact that I just tasted alcohol because I just found the love of my life.

Author's Note

Heya y'all. How have y'all been doing? This chapter is very long and I apologize for that, I know majority of readers hate longer chapter and few of us actually love them. What do you think about this chapter? Do you think Sahar is nice as she portrayed? Lemme know in the comments section.

And what do you think about Call Me By My Name?

Glossary

1. Pusshanigha: it's an Atlantan slang (noun and adjective) used to describe a coward.

2. Gas: another Atlantan slang that means good weed.

3. Isha prayer: the last mandatory prayer of the day for Muslims

4. Shawty: a pretty girl