The Diary of Queen Shugufta, 16, and Nimko King, 3½
Entry 5: Love Triangles
So, at school today, this happened:
Fizza: Uh, Shugs. I wanna tell you something.
Me : OK. What?
Fizza: Noman and I are going out.
Me: Accha? Wow … since when?
Fizza: Just recently decided.
Me: Ohhh … wow … amazing. Congrats.
Fizza: You sure it’s OK?
Me: Huh? Yeah, obviously. I’m happy for you.
Fizza: It’s just, you know, I mean, I know you kind of liked him …
Me: Liked him? (I laugh) No way. Maybe for like a minute. But, no way, he’s not my type.
Fizza: Not your type matlab?
Me: No, nothing. He’s a really nice guy and all. Just not for me. No way, dude.
Fizza: Hmm. Accha. Cool.
Fizza the traitor. I will never forgive her. Six months ago, I told her I liked Noman. She didn’t even like him then. This has been going on from class seven when she bought that One Direction backpack. She didn’t even know who they were before I sent her their music. And now, this. And you should see what happens to her every time he’s around. It’s like a personality transplant. She becomes giggly, and helpless, and she acts so stupid. Like, when we were rearranging the seating in class, she was pretending like her desk was too heavy for her to move by herself. Since when? That girl is so strong, she could lift that sukhru Noman up with one finger. And then later, she acted like she didn’t know the answer to an algebra problem just ‘cause he didn’t know. Why do girls make themselves stupid for boys? Boys should make themselves smarter for us. I hate the way she is now, and I hate his stupid face too and I wish I could blast them both to another planet.
What Fizza did is called betrayal. I would never do this to a friend. Except for Fizza. When Fizza is thirty and married, I’ll go to her house and pretend I can’t move a table or whatever and I’ll steal her husband. That’s called long-term revenge, bitch. That’s what happens when you mess with Queen Shugufta.
Vaisay, the ultimate betrayal now would be if she told him I used to like him but even Traitor Fizza is not so evil.
Then there’s Waseem, who follows me around with his puppy dog eyes, who’s only on the editorial board at the school magazine ‘cause I am, and who published this ‘anonymous’ cringe-y note in the magazine for me on Valentine’s Day: ‘here is a poem/ for a sweet little rose/ who likes to write poems/and also some prose’ Why is love like this, that the people you like always like someone else? And the people who like you, you don’t like? Why didn’t God make us in pairs, save us from all this struggle?
And finally, Papa (who I also call Abba) is away. He’s been away for six weeks. Dubai. Business. Thing is, Mama and him were fighting before he left. Loads. And now, Mama is angry all the time. She yelled at Muneer for some random shit, and totally lost it when I spilled ink on the carpet. Honestly, I can’t take it. Like, what if Abba’s gone for good? And I can’t talk to Farhad about it. He and Abba don’t get along so well. Abba says to Farhad he’s just wasting his time ‘making cartoons’ and Farhad says to him that why can’t he understand graphic design is a ‘legitimate profession’. They fight about this kind of stuff all the time.
When we found Nimko in that box outside Bata shoes, she was all alone, and tiny. We brought her home and she instantly adopted me as her mom. She followed me around all over the place, and slept in my lap, and she grew up to be the most happy playful thing MashAllah. She got over her parents’ abandonment so easily. And turtles. You know, sea turtles never even meet their parents? The parents just bury the eggs and head off on holiday somewhere. Then, the eggs hatch, and the turtles crawl to the sea by themselves because they have a kind of magnet in their skulls that tells them where the moon is. And they start to live independent lives, straight from birth. But look at me, so much more capable than a turtle, but still so attached to other people. Too attached. I need to harden myself, dis-attach myself, incase they’re getting divorced or something. I need to become more self-sufficient. I know I will always have Nimko – but actually, Nimko also will almost definitely die before me. So I have to prepare myself to be alone from now on, so I never get hurt again the way I did today.
Over and out
Queen S and Nimko K.
This story is part of a series, which is updated weekly. You can read the previous entry here.