Yaquot's POV

"Yaquot?" The voice shouting my name was so familiar.

"Yaquot! YA Allah Rahmatic

Allah's mercy

!" It kept repeating my name over and over with such hostility and annoyance.

I awoke from where I dozed off; I quickly looked up to the bitter expression in front of me. I could feel my heart rate speed exponentially and thump painfully in my chest.

"Dr. Nawaf!" I grinned at the cross face.

"Yaquot, can you please explain why you find the need to fall asleep every day in my class." growled my architectural history professor, Dr. Nawaf.

The class of thirty people started snickering as I wipe away the drool and look at the right to my sister, holding her laugh with difficultly, "This is why you have become an ancient structure at this college,"

This caused the class to laugh harder as I rose, rubbing the sleep out of my twenty-four old eyes. Dr. Nawaf continued lecturing, "your behavior is unexpectable especially coming from the granddaughter of a highly admirable professor who is also the head of the architecture department,"

I sighed as I waited for the same lecture to be over, "Should I get out now?" I asked.

"What do you think?" He smiled forcefully before returning to his lesson as I got out of the class.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my older sister, Al Jazi Al-Ahmad, rolling her eyes in utter annoyance at my behavior.

Contrary to popular belief, my sister wasn't slacking; she didn't get the GPA required to enter the architecture department, and she was accepted at the department of science, so she took three years to transfer to the architecture department. Even though the change was hard, getting a decent grade was harder, but she did it.

That is why she and I were now in the same boat.

In high school,y my older sister described this attitude as "too cool for school," in college, it is called pure laziness, and I was shunned upon for it.

I walked with my books to the cafeteria, my cherished place in college; once inside, I made myself comfy on one of the single tables as I picked my food up.

Before I even started eating, a voice caught my attention. "Other students would have cried or begged the professors to get back in class instead of sitting here eating like a cow!" the voice lectured.

"Hmmm? Oh yeah, the keyword here is other students!" I answered, raising my head to find my sister sitting across from me.

"Dr. Nawaf said this was your last warning, and he was going to speak to Baba," She warned while examining me as I took a spoonful of rice.

I smiled at her, "Good luck to him; finding Santa Claus will be easier than reaching Baba with his new family,"

The frown on her face became apparent once I addressed Baba's new wife and child as his new family, but this was the truth; she still didn't want to accept.

"Ya Allah, you are the only one who can piss someone whenever you open your mouth," She looked at me, "Fatty."

I glared at her, "Take it back." I warned her, "I am not a fatty anymore; I lost the weight."

"Fatty, Fatty, fatty." My sister smirked.

"for crying out loud, Can you drop that nickname ?" I whine.

"Never," She grins.

My sister was olive-skinned, lean, and had the most annoying brownish eyes I've ever seen, "You are annoying."

"Dr. Bader would disagree since he called you in front of the whole class the most annoying student he ever taught the week before," She laughed, "He was so angry at you that he forgot to assign homework and had a headache for a week since he assigned double the number of plans for you to finish and had to sit with you."

"The joke was on him; I still didn't finish the first exercise he gave."

"Good girl," She sarcastically addressed, "You know Abdulaziz will murder you if you don't graduate this year."

I furrowed my brow, "Don't you mean both of us since you know in comparison with the student in class with us, we are their great grandmothers,"

She laughed, "Oh Allah, please, don't remind me,"

***

After we finished the rest of the classes, we head home, and I went directly to the kitchen to see if Rahma had prepared lunch or should I order.

Rahma is the type of maid or scratch that she is that old Aunty who orders people around. If she is in the mood, she will make lunch, and if not, then you are screwed, but Rahma is family, so she has to be annoying.

When my mother and father split up, the only person who took care of us was Rahma. She has been with us for over forty years now, or that is what they tell me.

"Rahma, did you make Lunch?" I questioned.

She was sitting there beside the kitchen stove and watching the pot.

She glanced at me and then returned to staring at her pot. "No, I am just watching a new TV serial inside the pot," She sarcastically answered.

"Astaghfir Allah," I started walking out as I mumbled, "Sorry for even asking; why am I the only one getting yelled at today," I asked, remembering Dr. Nawaf, Al-jazi, and now Rahma.

Today wasn't my day!

I could hear Abdulaziz Laugh.

"Salam Alaikum," He stated as he smiled toward me. "Who yelled at you?" He asked.

"Walekum Assalam," I answered as I looked up at him. "Never mind."

"Walekum Assalam Abdulaziz, Do you want me to bring you lunch now ?" Rahma politely asked.

My mouth dropped from all the politeness, It was so overloaded, but I am used to it now.

"Ya, Prepare the table, Jazakallah," He stated.