Whenever she entered the classroom, Jameela felt like she had horns sprouting out of her head everyone stared at her strangely with wide eyes. She would sit quietly in the far corner of the classroom always feeling a light-year distance between herself and her teacher who never tried to speak with her, nor shake hands with her, during attendance. She thought her hands must be covered with millions of viruses and bacteria, which made the teacher hesitate to shake hands. The teacher never called her name “Jameela Maseeh” during attendance like she did to other students. Instead at the end, she would glance over the edge of her glasses at the shadow sitting in the far corner of the class and mark “P” with her pen in the register. The dust in Jameela’s black, curly hair showed she had walked two kilometres on foot to reach school. When she looked…
