There and Back Again : In the beginning

I stir up dust particles swirling lazily in the sunlight as I hurry down the hallway. ‘Late to class again’, I think triumphantly. Since the second term of school started-make that my final term in this educational establishment-I’m no longer the nerd I used to be. It’s been a gradual change but aren’t those the ones that are the most permanent? I no longer study days ahead of a test but prefer cramming the night before, taking back-to-back classes makes my brain rot, and I look for reasons to bunk at least once a day. And I’ve got one now. The door to A2S4 is firmly shut, and I can see our Physics teacher enthusiastically drawing another of his detailed diagrams on X-ray equipment and the like on the soft board. ‘Whoops, too late’, I think happily, assuaging the slight nerdy twinge of guilt with a well-I-did-try shrug, and turn around to face the empty school hallway.

For once, all is quiet. There are no shouts from the throw ball crowd that normally dominates the court throughout school hours, no wild kids running amok in the junior playground, no straggling students in the corridor; just me and my pounding heart slowing down to a steady rhythm. What I’ve always loved most about this school is its building; dark red brick walls arching overhead, leaving the hallways open to the Karachi sky. After all, our school’s got nothing to hide. Blocks of sunlight interleaved with shade crisscross down the corridor as far as I can see, and a lone fan rotates slowly giving relief to no one in particular. I suddenly have a lump in my throat. I’d grown so tired of school lately, who’d have thought I’d actually miss it. Being the seniormost class in school, with all the talk about college applications and the prospect of finishing school at last and stepping into the real world had given everyone in my batch a self-assured confidence in themselves. Every day was a party. And as we sped towards graduation, the antics of my fellow classmates seemed only to get wilder. I couldn’t deny it wasn’t fun, or that I had finally found my place. It had taken me 8 years since the day I first joined this school to reach a point in my life where I could walk down a corridor and say hello to almost everyone who passed by. But I was tired of the A level crowd, girls who had matching clothes and hairstyles and greeted each other with a big false Hi! And got a thousand pictures taken of themselves at a single event and destroyed the sanctity of the English language in order to further their popularity. Guys who tried out girl after girl just for the sake of having a girlfriend or one who’d be willing to go all the way, changed their cell phones as often as the girls changed outfits, and put down others for fun. Of course, not everyone was like that. I knew plenty of people who were real and down-to-earth and 'original', but more often than not they were outnumbered by the others. It would be a relief to leave this world behind.

‘Hey! Bunking again?’

I’m snapped out of my reverie by Hassan. He’s leaning back on a chair in an empty classroom, a large envelope in his hands. The nerd inside me is reassured to know that I’m not the only one skipping Physics.

‘Speak for yourself. Yawar got there before me'  I smile, satisfied, ‘What’s this?’ I grab the packet from his hands, but he doesn’t have to explain, nobody can miss the official seal stamped across it.

‘CONGRATULATIONS! I can’t believe it!!! You got in to Toronto too?!’

‘Yeah, and it’s Electrical Engineering just like you!!’

‘We’ll probably have all the same courses! Oh my God, this is so great!’

We launch into a discussion about all the universities we've applied to and how they compare to University of Toronto. UofT is definitely our first choice but the offers we've secured are only conditional, which means that we have to get a minimum of Bs in our Alevel exams to be accepted for the fall semester starting later the same year.

Applying abroad happens to be another Alevel thing. Everyone around me is taking their SATs (some for the second time) and filling in college applications for universities in America, Canada, UK, Malaysia, you name it. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But the constant obsession with foreign universities and personal statements makes me feel like staying back in Pakistan is only for losers. And I don't want to be one. I've applied to a couple of Canadian universities myself; University of Toronto and Waterloo in particular, but it was my dad's idea. Truth be told, I hadn't even thought of college before this term started. School had kept my hands full, and the future had always seemed far enough away. When my graduation year came around, my dad took it upon himself to make my online Ontario account, help me fill out my applications and sign me up for the TOEFL and SAT. We were Canadian citizens and had lived in Ontario before, so Canada was naturally the preferred choice. Before I knew it, I had jumped on the bandwagon too. And now I can't imagine ending up anywhere else. Huh. Whatever happened to being above peer pressure?

So there we are, daydreaming in a stifling classroom about lofty educational establishments that we believe will pave the way for our glorious future endeavors.Talk about being on a graduation high.

That’s when he walks in. I’ve seen him around; just another familiar face in an educational system that’s reputed for being a small world.

‘Yo Hassan, what’s up, man?’ They exchange their classic bro handshake as I roll my eyes.

I was just telling Hassan about the Royal Ontario Museum, better known as the ROM before we were interrupted. I was ten years old the last time I was there, but the memory of its exhibits, particularly the mummies still makes my hair stand on end. And now they’re both talking about some lame sport, probably football. How people stand to watch a bunch of hairy men run around chasing after a ball is one of life’s greatest mysteries.

No longer interested in the conversation, I’m just pulling out a book to read-I’m on a Twilight spree at the moment-when he asks me something. My head snaps up, ‘Sorry?’

‘I said, so you’re going to University Of Toronto too?’  He smiles down at me, warm and appraising at the same time.

I don't know what it is about his gaze, but I find myself loosening up under it, ‘Oh Hassan told you? If only it were that simple. I have to meet the offer first so I can’t afford to mess up my grades! And even though applying abroad was my parents’ idea, I don’t know if they’ll actually follow through with it. You know what parents are like here when it comes to sending girls anywhere alone.’ Whoa, that’s a bit much to unload on someone you hardly know, I tell myself.

But he's cool with it, ‘Yeah, I get it man. Still, in the end, you know your parents are only looking out for you. Besides, you’ll definitely meet the offer! Knowing you, you won’t rest until you get straight As, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

Great, that’s how everyone knows me in my batch; the nerd, the straight A student, the one who never got a B. Most times, I find it irksome because there is so much more to me than scoring well on exams which people don’t appreciate, but this guy sounds like he means it.

Without skipping a beat, we move on to talking about completely unrelated things. He tells me about the Pakistan Tour he went on the previous year, about Lahore and the shadowy goings-on in its shadowy  streets, and how he would like nothing more than to beat the crap out of the men who objectify women in this country. I can feel something heavy hovering in the air above us; I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's there. Call it chemistry, a connection, whatever. I know I tend to blow things out of proportion, but I feel like I've known him my whole life.

The bell rings. Before he leaves, he asks me if I'm on Facebook. He's looking at me in that strange way again, like he's seeing a lot more than just my face right now.

'I'll add you,' he says, and I find myself stupidly hoping that he will.