1 A Thousand woes hidden behind a Single Smile

CHAPTER 1

I have always been a loner. A pest. An unwanted third daughter, and a regret. These words often crossed my ears, and the biggest cry was that, it was my own conscience, that said it the most… My life was already black. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, like always, bad luck knocked on my doorstep. My first day at a low-class school was horrible. A big change it was in going from one of the most famous schools of Pakistan, to a one unknown. I now knew why some of the poor children, chose labor over students, and jobs over schools. The first ever assembly I attended of that school was on my very first day, and a teacher kept calling out for somebody to come and conclude on something. For all I knew, not a soul moved and so, I gathered courage and went up. A few mightily impressed stares met me and so did ones that showed hatred, which I shoved of with a smile. After that, I was escorted to my classroom which was on the second floor. As I entered my new classroom, full set in my crisp-white uniform, and open hair as I had taken a shower (as to celebrate my first day at school) I looked over at the group of students at my left corner, and hoped that they would come and welcome me, but all I got were a few cold and judgmental stares and then no attention at all. I felt like a spare part, sitting all by myself, in one of the chairs in the second row that wobbled as I moved. I looked around and my hopes were quickly crushed. The room was 19 old and frail one-arm chairs, with an untidy board, and a faded white with lines scribbled across it. I sighed heavily, and comforted myself with: 'Never chose a book by its cover.' Little did I know that this time, it would have been better if I had chosen the book by its cover, at least then I wouldn't have so blamed myself for the mess I had gotten in to. As my teacher came in and students started to fill in the seats around me, I once again, waited for her to interrogate who this new face in class was, but once again, she took little notice of me and went on with the greetings. Finally, after she took the attendance, I got a chance to make myself noticed and called out that my name wasn't marked, as I was a newbie. She called me up and asked for a little intro, regarding me and my previous school. I confidently replied:' 'My name is Anna and I'm from LGS' my class teacher felt partially amazed and I thought I had said something wrong. But later, as I proceeded back to my seat, my mystery was solved as my seat mate applauded me on my fluent English accent, which I had thought was a very normal thing, regarding my previous school. I was assigned to a bossy looking girl with chocolate brown hair, and a clever look. She was apparently considered the smartest by the teacher as she was assigned to this newbie for 'help', as if I needed any. The students and the teacher kept on conversing in Urdu, leaving me amazed as to refer the speeches the principal had made on my first visit, praising the use of fluent English and an educated environment at all times. Slowly and gradually, my life there became miserable, students would mock me on my accent, saying that I as show-offing, the teachers were highly conservative, and boys were given all the liberty. They could tease us and do all they wanted and then had no one to repent them over their mis-behavior. They were always left scot-free. In the end, it was always us girls who were punished. I couldn't take it. It boiled my blood to see such unfairness. I started to fight against any negative comment that crossed my ears from anyone, but I couldn't handle the torture. They were too illiterate. They were some teachers and students that were a lot better and the only reason I spent almost a year in that school. Some students were jealous of the favors that some teachers showed on me and conspired against me. My games teacher said that he liked me as I reflected his childhood. On one occasion, I found my little brother crying in his class and his teacher handed him over to me and said that he was homesick. If I had not been in that school, I probably would have reported the teacher as she could not handle a student of hers, but I knew from experience of this school that here, money was exchanged over deceiving. Well, I took my brother to the office and I and a friend looked around for someone to make a call home. On finding no one, and once again, not a least bit surprised, in hurried back to my section head to report her but she in return of me and my weeping brother, scolded me on going somewhere without permission and ordered me to return to my class, taking no notice of an innocent and small child crying. Angry tears welling in my eyes I ran back to my class and had a good sob while some of my friends comforted me, after the girl who went with me informed them of the situation. I do not know why I didn't go and confront the teacher, but I guess some of it included the manners my school and my family had taught me and the fact that I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of me being hurt. I was broken when I glanced out of the window and found my brother near the staircase, confused and crying bitterly. My teacher went to him and gave him a telling-off sternly. I could not believe that such cruel people even existed. That was the last straw for me. I went home and it was a Friday when my bad days were finally over and I was shifted to a school much more to my standard. But no one know, how much sweat it costed of my mother to run from one school to another in the blazing sunlight, to find the perfect school for me. If I could ever go back in time, one of the many things I wanted to change was me crying and helpless to the evil teacher and kick her tell her that she didn't deserve to be a teacher. A teacher isn't someone who missuses her authority but one who teacher not to do so. This is all I want to provide about that horrid school. I am a seventh grader right now and will now express my heart-breaking story, starting from my 6th grade. As if my tensions weren't enough, my life took another U-turn and my happiness quickly turned to a nightmare. As always, my tale of happiness never make it till the end of the page…

CHAPTER 2

Yesterday morning, I woke up to discover scaly red patches of the BIGGEST horror of my life. The dreaded disease PSORIASES. I couldn't figure out how this happened in just a night, but then I remembered the red spots I had mistaken as mosquito bites. 'Aaahhhh!!!' I screamed in frustration. School was in two days and I dreaded going like this. I thought about skipping school, but then I remembered the last time it had happened and how it took almost a whole year to wear off. If the disease didn't, the depression surely would, so instead, I opted for school and passed the days away. * * * * * * * * * Two days later, my blue van parked outside my rented house, I stepped down, all set in my crisp new uniform, and tried to shake of the nauseous feeling that arose in my stomach, warning me that it was going to be yet another episode, no series of DEPRESSION!

CHAPTER 3

I sat on a seat near the window, and started reading a novel, as I had no idea what else to do. My van was roughly 17 seats and with little black curtains draped over the windows. It was clean and I liked it. It felt homely. After sometime, I met a seat-mate and she introduced herself. She was in ninth grade and her name was Foha. She reached out her hand as motioned me to shake it. I was a little nervous, due to the huge and scaly patches, but at last, I stretched out my hand to shake hers, but what I had feared was what happened. She took a disturbed look at my hand and irritated asked me what this was. I told her about my disease and she let a book fall out of her lap and as she bent, she retracted her hand and brought it up. I sighed. I was aware of why she had let her book fall when she could have stopped it. At least, she hadn't just bluntly shook my hand away, which I was sure many students would do. My van was a joyride with goofballs of children, and spicy fights. The girls and boys were divided in to two section, one of which covered the front seats and the others (back row) were covered by us girls. I found out and that you could book seats (not the real book I mean that we could tell others that it was your seat, and if you were a powerful and liked character, they wouldn't resist), for other not-so-confident people, the rule was that whoever grabbed the seats first would be the sitter. And so, positions and places of those students, changed every day and often resulted in little fights. It was quite a rush in the morning especially, when all the preschoolers had to be dropped too. First, they were dropped, then the boys and then us. I really liked the fact that everyone was like a family, including the conductor and the driver, and it was nothing like the cheap school I had been through before. This is how literacy shapes the world. Our conductor was an old dear, fat and with a little gray strand of hair on his bald head, and our driver was another old man, with handsfree always in the ears, and the wire went from between his mouth. He was always talking to someone. I was the third to be taken and the sometimes the last or the second last to be dropped. I befriended a shy looking girl with messed up hair and a nervous look, and another girl with a braid, who obviously was the girl's friend, judging by the expression. There was a villain too, a fat girl with long hair hung up in a bun, and her fat sister with short curly hair, named Zeina and Aleena. Their brother was extremely fat, and a crybaby. The little sister, Aleena, was very irksome and so was her older sister, Zeina. They, as I learned later, were friends of the shy-girls, or actually, forced friends, and both the shy girls, named Noha and Roshanay, were sick of the fatty the elder sister) but were scared to break friendship with her. It was clear she intimidated them. They were too nervous to stand up for themselves they were in fifth grade and I was in sixth. * * * * * * * * * I stepped down from my van, and flung my bag over my shoulder. As I entered the school, two old ayahs greeted me and I thought that maybe, it wasn't going to be as bad as I had thought. I went to the office and asked about my class. A custodian uncle, led me to my class, which was three floors up and as I entered the class, a cute girl with fairly long hair and glasses, said 'New girl?' already knowing the answer and pointing a finger at me. She looked friendly and I nodded, to which she showed me an empty seat. As settled in and set down my bag, I hid my hands in the desk, so no one would see the embarrassing patches, and looked around the class, realizing how different this place was. Students started to gather around, trying to make me comfortable, much to my expectations. Finally, my class teacher came in and boy was I excited. She was a very beautiful young woman with straight hazel-brown hair, and braces. She wore a black tucked in T-shirt, with matching jeans and a very satisficing smile. She had a perfect English accent and looked friendly enough. Immediately, I had a sudden desire to be the teacher's pet here. My favorite subject being English, I was overjoyed to find out that she was the English subject teacher. She stood in the doorway and put down a bunch of blue copies with the school's logo on it. Compared to the old registers of my old school, these copies looked a big improvement. Miss Zarish, as she was called, questioned me for my name and then scribbled it down on each of the copies, with the subjects and my class/section, 6-A. 'Which school have you transferred from?' she asked to which when I told her, she asked why had I shifted here. I used the word 'Financial' though I didn't know the meaning, and surprisingly when I checked later on, it turned out to be right! Ever so often would I not know the meaning of words I used but they would turn alright. I would hear a word, and if it had an edge that matched up with the sentence, I would use it. I think this came along with the fact that I read books quite a lot. They were the only friends that never betrayed, the only tales that never left me alone, the only voices that never turned harsh, the only faces that never lied… My first period passed and as the second period neared, during the wait for the maths teacher, the entire class gathered around my desk, a space I shared with a girl with a very shrill voice, and a high ponytail, who had helped me with all the important instructions. I smiled the warmth of different faces met me. 'Hi I am Alisha,' a very cute girl with bunny teeth, and like most of the children in the class, she also wore red glasses with square frames. I immediately liked her and wanted her as my bestie, although, I didn't tell her this to her, thinking she might already have a lot of friends and I didn't want her hanging out with me just because I had asked her. One by one, twenty-two names greeted me and muddled my head, as I tried to memorize them all at once. A rapid fire, it seemed as students bombarded me with questions, like they were all interviewers, regarding my hobbies, likes and dislikes and so on. After I had introduced myself, saying that I was eleven years old, liked sports and books a lot, my favorite subject was English, and that my family consisted of four daughters(I was the middle one) and one brother, with my father as a Chemistry head at LGS mainstream, and my mother as a housewife, we, the whole class, played a game of Bingo and had several rounds. At one point, I got into a heated argument with the girl who had greeted me, about using abusive language for fun, against one of the K-pop bands' I liked. We all broke up after that, as our teacher had come too, and we starting studying. The students already knew her, but she gave a brief intro of herself, anyway. 'My name is Sara and I am going to be your Math teacher,' she said smiling. She had curly brown hair, secured in a bun and kindly eyes, and provisional glasses. She wore a purple outfit, with black heels and a maroon bag was slung over her shoulder. Math was harder than I had thought It would have been. We were studying 'Geometrical shapes' and they were nightmares. Finally, this period ended, after what seemed like a decade, and our English teacher came again. I was surprised to see what looked like exam papers, in her hands. I asked Raina, the girl who sat next to me about this, ad she told me that today was the first monthly assessment and English was the first subject to be taken. I was nervous as I didn't know what would come, though if it were only grammar or creative writings, then I'm safe, but if some novel they study here comes, I'm bound to fail. I sat in desperation and like the big dork I am, didn't even bother to ask anyone about the novel they studied here. Finally, the papers were distributed as my teacher aske me if I wanted to attempt it. I agreed as the paper was of an hour and it would be better to test my skills rather than waste time looking at others. Once again, I didn't ask the teacher but instead waited for the papers to be distributed so I could have a surprise. I love surprises. Well, finally the paper reached my desk. One look I gave it and I was so happy that I actually let out a very tiny shout, to which I received some fairly irritated looks, and I just sat there, smiling stupidly. I hurriedly took out my pen and started to jot down the answers on the paper that rested on my desk. The novel being studied here was the same novel I had studied in fifth grade. I was overjoyed. But then a feeling took over and suddenly, I started doubting the standard of this school. Why was a novel appropriate for fifth-graders, being used here? I couldn't just make it out. But as soon as I turned over the page of my paper, suspicion soon cleared and I breathed a sigh of relief. There were some grammar topics I hadn't learnt before. Well, I used my instincts and completed the paper very satisfied. I had done a good job, according to me. After that, a new and very friendly looking teacher, with brownish-blonde hair and a plump face, wearing light blue denims, and a plain white T-shirt with the words: be original, printed in black bold letters on it- and with square-framed glasses, entered the class. One look at her and I felt suddenly warmed. When she started with her intro, I was impressed at her confidence as she said, slightly chuckling: 'Hello kids, how're you doing? Well you all must be wondering who I am, so I might do you a favor and tell you that I'm Nayab and I'm your new science teacher!' she let out in one go. I was dazed at the kindness in her eyes, with a cheerful sparkle, and immediately liked her. Her smile was exceedingly encouraging and positive, and the second time in a day, I wanted to be a teacher's pet. She seemed a role model to me and it was only the first day. Well, this one habit I wanted to kill of mine. I trusted way to easily, and then as a result, was shattered and deceived too easily too. But I don't know why, I felt very comfortable with her around and probably, wasn't making the wrong choice this time around. At least, I hope. Her style of teaching was very amusing. The mood in her class was always kept light by her cracking jokes from time to time and encouraging us to be what we are and conclude on whatever we want to. Three teachers introduced and both of them awesome. I couldn't wait for the others. I was introduced to miss Nayab and she smiled at me all welcoming like. At last, the period ended and the last teacher before break came. She was our Urdu teacher and I was scared as hell. All the teaches I had seen of Urdu and math were usually very angry and intimidating. Well, almost all. The Urdu and Math teachers in my previous school were very amicable. Those guys were amazing too. Anyway, as my long-awaited Urdu teacher appeared and introduced herself, I was very shocked. She was a very very super friendly teacher with a bright smile and a very friendly nature. She was miss Bushra, a slightly plump teacher with temporary glasses and a black handbag. I was exceedingly bad at Urdu and that was because of my previous teachers of Urdu. They were to humiliating to be asked any question from and as a result, I grew to hate Urdu and never put any effort in it. But here it was different, I had a sudden urge to be the best at Urdu please the teacher. That day when I went home, I was the happiest person alive and my family all gathered around to hear from me the stories of my new school. I wasn't much of a teller, so I tried to just pushed them all away, but their insistence made me tell all of the happiness I had gained today. I was very found of writing and inspired from my own life, I started an essay to which I wanted to extend as a book. Here's what I wrote: 'What's that?' a puzzled yet sleepy voice asked, rubbing her eyes. 'What's what?' a voice retorted. 'That red thing on your palms,' Kate asked. 'Red… hold on… what?' Rachael said abruptly, suddenly sitting up straight. She rubbed her eyes, in a vain effort to clear away the sleepy blurriness. When that didn't work, she ran to wash her face and eyes. She was feeling uneasy because of her hands. Finally, after drying her face she sat down on her bed, her stomach gave an uneasy lurch. She already had a bad feeling about this. As she slowly turned over her hands to reveal her palms, her eyes tightly closed, and a desperate whisper with the words; 'no, no, please don't be…' her voice trailed off as she opened her eyes to the horrors that lay ahead. 'Oh no!' a tight gasp left her throat. It was the worst of her nightmare, the thing she'd rather give her life over than to live with it. Words failed her and her knees felt shaky. She recognized those red scaly patches to the first signs of the dreaded disease at once. There were the unmistakable scarlet rashes of Psoriasis. 'It doesn't have to be it, it doesn't have to be it, it's not important, just summer rashes,' she told herself but some part of her strongly disagreed. Kate rushed over to her, as if already understood. 'Let me get mum and dad,' Kate said, trying to sound calm but failed, her terror couldn't stay hidden. Kate had run as fast as she could for her parents, who woke up with a start, then without further delay, rushed over to their daughter, who meanwhile was finding it hard to get over her fear and the shock she had received. Her mother held her in her arms, pressing her tightly against her own body and reassuring that everything would be fine, while her father examined her after calling the dermatologist, who was quite familiar with them now, like he was a family friend more than a skin specialist- as Racheal had had this before as well and was under supervision of him. 20 minutes later, a plump old man, parked his car outside and was ushered in by Mr. William, Racheal and Kate's dad. The doctor was bald except for a strand of grey hair; depicting his old age. He wore a crisp white coat and highly polished black shoes and a manly glint in his eye. Racheal always liked to meet him as he was more like a child than an old man he was. The doctor knew how to calm a situation no matter how worse it was, because for him any situation is unable to be resolved unless u got hold of yourself and think things through; calmness is the key factor. 'Oh, hey there Racheal how's life?' Dr. James asked. Racheal sighed relief. 'It's up to you now,' she mumbled. Dr. James sat down beside her as she filled him with the morning events of the horrible discovery she had made. The doctor listened intently, nodding his head from time to time, gesturing that he was listening. Finally, Racheal paused as she had told him every single thing- the doctor sighed and shook his head and turned over her hands to examine the situation. Sure enough, the deadly disease was recognized at once. 'Ah… well…' it was one of those rare situations where Dr. James was stuttering and finding a conversation hard to continue; a result impossible to announce. 'What is it, doctor?' her father asked eagerly. 'Well, it… it is Psoriasis…' his voice trailed off shakily as the last word left his mouth. 'Oh…well what to do now,' Racheal asked as everybody else was too stunned to speak. 'As you already know there's really no cure for this… so as long as u take the precautions, it will be fine!' The doctor added brightly. Racheal sighed, she had heard this the last time she had it too, and this was the only thing she remembered from last time. Life was taking its worst of turns, yet, it was going to get even harder still… something Racheal was unaware of. 'You know if you don't want to go to school, it's totally up to you, no pressure dear.' Racheal's mother assured. 'But if it takes a year to heal up so will I always stay at home?' Racheal said through tears, tears she could not hold back. 'No sweetie…come here,' her mother said bringing her closed to herself

CHAPTER 4

Today was the second day and I hoped I would make some new best friends. So far in school I had made a lot of 'friends' only. I told myself to stop losing temper and get over that another thing I was tired of. I could not keep myself from interfering when there was something wrong being done and I knew of it. If someone was doing something wrong and I get air of it, then all I do after is devoted to make that person receive their punishment. I was tired of this habit. It often put me into trouble and many times, I got the punishment they were supposed to get, though sometimes if the person I you this all to was good, I sometimes won too. It boiled my blood to see them conspire and I just had to do something. Well, I once again, sat in my beloved blue van. I just loved it. As I sat near the window, I tried somehow maybe cover the embarrassing rashes of Psoriasis, who had till now, taken over both of hands and covered both the sides too, so there was no way I could hide it. I reached for book and hid my hands underneath it. As the van started devoid, I took a look over my hands and I suddenly had a huge urge to cry. The skin of my hands had totally been victimized by the red and white scaly patches, and a few cuts ensured that it would be a harder opponent this time. As the school sighted, me and my fellows stepped out and into the school. We had to walk across two roads, accompanied by our conductor. Finally, the school's gate came in view and we stepped across, shortly after having been stopped by apparently, a games teacher. When I first looked at her, I was sure she was a man. Later as I looked at her, I realized she was a tomboy and a perfect one too. I was impressed by how she took over the students completely. Her name turned out to be Afreen and even though he seemed strict, I liked her attitude. She wore a blue and black, checked shirt with black pants, (like many other teachers here) very short black hair, red-square framed glasses and a beautiful smile. I smiled as she addressed me, but as soon as she explained the purpose of her presence, my smile soon vanished and was replaced by one of pain. She said that she was supposed to be checking nails and I didn't, in my wildest dream want her to know of my disease. She told me to hurry up and I had no choice but to show her my sorrow. I hurriedly ran away, before she could inquire about it. I wanted to kill myself because of my helplessness. I always used to be someone very much noticed, and now, myself I wanted the Earth to swallow me, so I would remain unnoticed. This feeling occurred to me quite many times, like once when I was the captain at my school, the falcon captain (one of my biggest joys, in which n being informed I was nominated, I hiddenly stole to the board area to check), and my coordinator walked up to me, with a livid look, while I was chatting away with my fellow captains, the ones of Eagle, Kestrel, Swift, sports and green team. She was a very old woman, with greyish-white hair, round, black glassed and a stern look. I couldn't reason why she'd come to me, but soon I got a reason that broke me. She walked over and angrily shook my sash, saying that I was not to feel so great being just a captain and that I had pulled on a girl's hair and abused her. I stood there, wondering, as tears blinded me and the girl standing behind the teacher, reassuring, through tangled hair and fake sobs. I recognized the girl at once and my jaw dropped in horror as I remembered that she was the same girl who had, during break, promised to get even with me and take her revenge, when I had stopped her of bullying a little girl. I wanted to defend myself, but angry tears filled, and I rushed away before I could further satisfy her by showing that she had won over me too. I couldn't belie al that had happened, and suddenly being a captain didn't seem so great anymore (something I always wanted), and I had a hearty cry there and then, in the washroom. As the school ended, some of my friends, who were Mahnor, a girl with straight, black hair, that went down to her shoulders, black square-framed glassed and a blue border and white checked sash, as she was the sports captain (someone I always wanted to befriend), and Hafsa, a shy and generous girl, while long hair, held up in a braid and a pure green sash, indicating that she was the kestrel captain. They came and comforted me, saying that people were jealous of us and all. I was grateful but that day, as I went to my bed and pulled the sheets over me, I started to realize my mistake. I should've hurled the sash at her and said: 'If giving up to liars if what makes a captain a good captain, then count me out. I am not a slave.' And went off. (I know it sounds a bit dramatic but the way she had reacted was no less than a villain) But my father was a teacher in that institute and I couldn't risk his job. These were the times when bundles of tensions surround me and I have to step over my self-respect. I knew my father was a teacher there and wrong move could end up molding his reputation. The teacher stared in horror at my red, scratchy hands and even though she tried her best, she couldn't hide the horrified look she held on. I blinked back tears and got away before she could ask any questions. Being a new girl with monster type hands really wasn't easy. It was hard enough to deal with a hundred unknown faces. I realized how badly I needed a friend. Someone who could give me a hand when I had tears blinding me. I never had a real friend. Always someone I forced myself to like. No one would understand me. No one wanted too. They would break me and then break me again and then expect me to forget it. And I had too. I would pretend to forget because I wanted so badly someone who I could entitle the word 'Friend'. I've never been that confident. I try to put it out, but I need a back to fall on. I have always been running after the complete pair of my sisters. They didn't like me. I was always too young.