Chapter 3
3
The last hour of my shift passed agonizingly slowly, filled with forced smiles, repetitive conversations, a mind-numbing monotony.
I shuffled closer to Sal.
‘I want to keep this job on weekends after school starts. Do you?’
‘No way,’ she replied, cocking a perfectly painted brow. ‘This year’s going to be tough. We need our weekends to revise, don’t we?’
I didn’t bother to respond.
She was right. But this job was my excuse to spend as little time at home as possible. Before I’d taken it, I’d never really been allowed out much. All my childhood memories were of being at home, doing homework, trying to get my two older siblings to let me play with them, and helping my mum around the house while we waited for Dad to come back from his shifts as a taxi driver.
Working here was my escape.
I finally had the freedom to explore the city I was born and raised in, yet still barely even knew. The commotion in Leicester Square, the glittering lights of Piccadilly Circus, the street performers of Covent Garden … I wanted to experience all of it.
Money was the only reason Dad had agreed to let me take this job. This would be the hardest and most crucial year of my education, and although I always got high grades, the teaching at my state school wasn’t very good; since I was competing with the smartest students in the country to study dentistry at uni, I wasn’t going to risk it. I needed extra tuition classes in A-level maths, biology and chemistry to ensure I got the best grades I could manage. And tuition was expensive .
Becoming a dentist was something I’d been striving for ever since I met Aunty Seema at a wedding in my local community. I was fourteen and it was the first time I’d come across a woman so educated, eloquent and independent. She owned her own dental clinic, and her self-assurance was apparent in the way she carried herself and communicated with her husband and children. She was her own boss in every way, and everyone respected her for it, including my mum and her friends, even if they secretly judged her western clothing and modern lifestyle behind her back.
After meeting her, the seed of inspiration had taken root and never withered. That was the kind of future I wanted for myself.
I didn’t feel comfortable asking my parents for money. This job was a better solution because I enjoyed being independent, and it wasn’t something I would ever give up. Especially after seeing everything my sister was dealing with in her marriage.
‘This was just supposed to be a summer thing,’ Sal continued disapprovingly. ‘If you carry on working on weekends, how will we find time to do our study sessions?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll still be study buddies,’ I assured her. ‘Our revision sessions are a necessity.’
‘For me , not for you. You’re the smartest girl in school. You’ll get into whatever uni you apply to.’
‘That’s not true.’ I was being humble – I knew full well that I was a top student in our school.
‘Seriously though, you’re an actual geek. I know it’s important that we get into our dream unis but it’s just as important to make memories in our last year of school together. We can’t forget to have fun!’
‘We won’t,’ I promised.
Saliha was my favourite person, the only one I confided in and really laughed with. I had other friends, but no one I hung out with outside of school. Of course, that was mostly because of all the curfews my parents enforced, but Mum never really seemed to mind much when I asked to go over to Saliha’s. As rebellious as Sal was, she knew exactly how to behave whenever any elders were around. It really was an art.
We’d been best friends for as long as I could remember because we’d grown up together. We’d attended the same primary and secondary school, mosque lessons, and now sixth form too. While Saliha was a total extrovert, I was the quiet one who never let people get too close.
A large part of the reason Saliha and I had such different personalities despite our many shared experiences was the way we’d been raised. We’d been next-door neighbours for over ten years, and while her home was always full of people and laughter and love, mine was quiet. Strained.
‘Do you want to do something after work?’ Sal called to me while cleaning foundation smudges off the counter. ‘The weather’s amazing.’
I was searching our stock for a concealer shade but paused to give Sal an apologetic look. ‘I wish I could, but I’m seeing my brother after work. He needs help with something.’
When we had mere minutes of our shift left to kill, I heard a shriek from our manager. Amy was usually as devoid of emotion as a zombie, so Sal and I exchanged a concerned look.
‘Some of The Exes have just been spotted here,’ she announced, radiating the air of someone brave enough to spill a state secret.
My stomach did a strange tumble.
Of course I knew The Exes also lived in London, but their London usually seemed to exist in a different dimension to mine. Even working at a luxury store like Selfridges, I’d never seen an Ex in person before. I locked eyes with Saliha, and we flew to each other like magnets.
My insides buzzed with excitement. These people seemed more dream than reality. I’d watched their videos for years, and now there was a chance I would see them in the flesh. It felt surreal.
As a large, noisy crowd spilled into our department, all the staff stopped working and either stared at the incoming mass of people or had their phones ready to capture some footage of what was going on.
‘I think I see Karim,’ Saliha hissed fervently, pointing ahead.
I looked to where she was gesturing.
It was Karim Malik.
The most handsome, charming Ex. The screams were ear-piercing as people flocked all around him. Through the dense crowd, I caught glimpses of him with stern security officers on either side.
To my astonishment, he didn’t look like … himself. Sure, he was still the sleek, gorgeous raven-haired guy I was used to seeing online, but something felt wrong. He had an intense grimace on his face, as though he was fed up with the world, and there were dark circles bruising the area around his eyes.
He looked utterly sick of the cameras, the people, the hysteria.
Saliha readied her iPhone camera as he passed by.
A girl ran through our make-up counter in an attempt to reach him, probably to nab a selfie. She managed to grab his arm for a second before one of his bodyguards scooped her up and hauled her back.
Karim scowled at the girl, and then glanced a little to his side. I was directly in his line of sight.
OMG, this is the moment I’ve been waiting for! Is he looking at me?
His eyes met mine and …
Anger. Annoyance. Disgust.
I flinched.
The world moved on swiftly, bodies and colours swirling so rapidly I blinked to clear the fuzz from my brain.
It was all over within a heartbeat, but I couldn’t seem to draw breath. The moment was stamped on to my mind, where I knew it would remain, probably forever.
Karim Malik, the subject of so much of my attention, had looked at me as though I was … trash.
He’d likely already forgotten my face; I was just another girl among the overbearing masses fawning over him. This encounter was a profound reminder of how big and powerful he was and how small and insignificant I was.
I had never before felt so conscious of my appearance, my ordinariness, my non-existent social status.
I had never before felt so worthless.