Bab 9: 9

It is almost unbearable. I now have to suffer under the feeling of being looked at more often than not, worse than ever. How do I make it stop? How do I get rid of this burning, ticklish, intense feeling?

I try to find relief in everything. Chewing on my pen. Fiddling with my shirt. Staring at the clock and watching the time go by painfully slow. Singing songs in my head, drawing things in my head, imagining all kinds of stories. But it doesn't work.

If this goes on, I won't graduate this year. I'll have to waste another twelve months on subjects I don't like instead of doing the things I like at university. I need to work harder...

It takes ages before the final bell rings and signals what I thought to be the end of my agony. But I was wrong. Before I can finish packing my bag, Zain's face appears in my field of vision, his expression full of hope.

"Can I see your tablet now?" he asks cheerfully.

"I left it at home," I lie, trying to avoid having to spend time with him.