Chapter one

If you’re a Kuwaiti teenager, you’ve probably come across a lot of blogs this past year, I know I have. Some I’ve really enjoyed, some I’ve opened and been like, um..

ANYWAYS! It all depends on the way you get the reader’s attention, and I really hope chapter one can do that :3 and if it can’t, don’t give up on me!

Enjoy!

Xoxo, the iBlogger.

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“Oh Haya, I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone as much as I love you” The prince started to say.

He was tall, but not too tall. He was tanned, but he didn’t look like a burnt piece of toast, and he was romantic, but not cheesy. He was holding a sword, and his crown fit perfectly on top of his messy curls, for he was my prince charming. I looked deep into his eyes; they were the perfect shade of brown.

He took a breath, and I knew he was about to say something else that was going to melt my insides, if they hadn’t already dissolved. I waited for the romantic words to spill out of his perfect lips.

“Haya Goumay” he said.
What?
“YALLA HAYA! I’m tired of waking you up every morning.”
I looked at my prince with confusion.
“YALLA HAYA GOUMAY!!”

I peeked one eye open, and saw Mariam, my eldest sister shaking me aggressively.
“SHTABEEN? I’M UP!” I said, trying to sound angry but failing because I was still using my –I just woke up- voice.

She rolled her eyes at me and walked away. 

I laid on my bed evaluating my options: I could either go to school and go through four periods of complete torture, or I could just lay here for the rest of my life in my pajamas while my blanket gives me warm hugs.

Just kidding, I can’t do that. But I wish that I could.

I got up and dragged myself to the shower.

**

I saw school up ahead and I told Raju to slow the car down. I really wasn’t looking forward to school today; I hate Sundays.

Once I was in school grounds , I saw the girls at our usual spot, the table behind Mr. Forket’s classroom. I walked up to them and each one of them greeted me with a “Hallaa walllaaa” or a “HAYOOOON!”

I have three best friends, and I love them all to death.

There’s Ghalia: She may be small (shorty), but her personality is bigger than words can describe. She has shoulder length, dark, brown hair. She used to be the chubbiest little thing last year, but over the summer she went to some camp in Switzerland where she lost all the weight. She’s littearly the funniest person I have ever met, if she doesn’t crack at least one lame joke a day, I know there’s something wrong. It’s pretty hard not to love this girl.

Then there’s Heba: Heba is the only one out of all of us that isn’t full Kuwaiti. Her mom is Lebanese. She has long hair that comes just below her chest, it was a light shade of brown, just a tiny bit lighter than chestnut. I was obsessed with her hair. Me and Heba knew each other the longest, because our moms were pretty close, I trust her with everything  and anything. She never fails to make my day.

Last, but definitely not least was Fay: Fay has very dark naturally straight hair that was usually up in a ponytail or a bun. Her eyelashes were pretty long, and everyone was in love with them. Fay is probably the real-est. person in my school. She doesn’t take bullshit, and if you mess with her best friends, you’re technically messing with her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not aggressive or anything, she’s just genuine. I love her to bits and pieces.

Completing our little best friend circle is me. I’m the youngest of all the girls. They all were turning seventeen in a couple of months, and I had just turned sixteen last month. My wavy hair is naturally dark but as a little birthday gift my mom let me dye it last month, and now it’s just brown.  I don’t really like to stand out, I’m not that type of girl. I guess you can call me a crowd-pleaser, I don’t like problems.

But in high school, problems can’t always be avoided, can they?

Survival of the fittest.