Chapter Text
Mariam knew who they were.
The entire student body of AlRawabi knew who they were.
It was impossible not to be familiar with Layan, Rania, and Ruqayya, with the way their little group constantly terrorized everyone around them. Students and teachers alike.
Which would've been more impressive if she hadn't spent years watching them bluff, realizing that they weren't as untouchable as people believed.
Sure, rumors rose and fell at their words.
But stripped of theatrics, they were simply three sorry girls with loud mouths and captive audiences.
Mariam had always wondered how, exactly, their strange rise to power had occured. The social hierarchy seemed to have always been set in stone, like one of the school's fundementals:
Students were constantly seeking knowledge.
Students were obliged to always be respectful.
And students judiciously feared Layan, Rania, and Ruqayya on instinct.
One thing about Mariam, she liked knowing things. Hell, she knew a great many things.
Given enough time, she could uncover who was behind book margins and love sonnets and whatever trivial question ever crossed her mind.
What she could never figure out, however, was who was behind showcasing those three teenage girls like Teen Royalty.
Cheers to their evil genius. It was impressive, sure, but evil nonetheless.
It was a real mystery, how the unspoken rules had come to be, like some sort of social shibboleth, determining whether you were spared the torment or subjected to it.
And it was an even bigger mystery, how none of the condemned students had tried to infiltrate it.
Because a house of cards was always meant to fall.
Now, Mariam had always marched to the beat of her own drum, never stopping to think twice of the outcome of her schemes after she'd set her mind on something. Sure, she'd later discover that what people called consequences weren't always the sortilege a person deserved. But that was after the series of unfortunate events so absurd, that she'd sooner throw herself down a flight of stairs than admit how badly it had backfired.
Trying to earn her diploma in a high-intensity, hostile space without blowing the country had taught her that every fucker out there had answer for every other fucker's problems and conflicts until it was his own.
Then he was fucked.
And if there was anything Mariam had been taught very well, it was that people like Layan never stood alone.
They stood on friends. On reputation. On fear.
Take away that foundation and, eventually, the monument followed.
Which was why, if she ever intended to make a dent in her school's resident oligarchy, she'd have to start with the support system before the figurehead.
She could fix it. She could fix it all by making everything so much worse before.
Because Mariam had been knocked down before.
She'd been Humiliated before. She'd been mocked, threatened, teased.
But this was the first time where she refused to humour the idea of staying down.
It was also, inconveniently, the first time where she'd been beaten badly enough that a doctor was shining lights into her eyes and asking her what day it was.
Frankly, she thought that was excessive.
"It was a simple question."
Mariam blinked up at the nurse. "What?"
"The day."
"Oh."
Her surroundings shifted slightly, or maybe she rocked sideways. Honestly, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell.
"Friday?" She took a lucky guess. Bold of them to assume she ever knew what day it was anyway.
"It's Sunday." The nurse cut straight through her bluffing, but didn't comment any further, much to Mariam's relief.
"Great. Was that a test?"
The nurse ignored her, leaving shortly after.
Unfortunately, it also left her alone with her thoughts. Or, more accurately, alone with the violent pounding behind her eyes every time she attempted to form one.
The police officer had come earlier.
Asked questions along the lines of:
Who attacked you?
Did you see them?
Can you identify them?
The answer had been sitting on the tip of her tongue.
Yes.
Yes.
And yes.
Instead, she'd looked at the wall behind him for a very long time and said: "No."
The officer had frowned. "You don't remember?"
"I remember getting hit. But I was attacked from behind, and couldn't really tell who it was."
"Anything else?"
Mariam considered Layan's face, Ruqayya's voice, the message, the bus, the weeks of torment leading towards the incident.
Most prominently: the certainty that nobody would do anything even if she told the truth, which was the only thing holding her tongue.
"Not really."
It had been a lie. A terrible lie. An obvious lie. A lie so bad she was fairly certain half the room knew she was lying.
But nobody pushed.
Eventually, the questions stopped, the room went quiet, and life, infuriatingly, continued.
Not for much longer.
Because after that, the investigator happened. A stubborn man in his late forties that clearly cut through her bullshit right upon stepping over the door frame.
He wasn't stupid. And unfortunately for him, neither was Mariam. Which left them at some sort of impasse.
"Mariam, can you think of anything right now?"
"Sure. Did you know John Spilsbury invented jigsaw puzzles?"
The investigator paused, outwardly fighting to keep his composure."I meant on a personal level."
"Oh." Mariam thought about it. "No, I never knew the guy."
"Mariam. I'm talking about who attacked you."
"Tell them that wasn't nice. You don't kick a girl when she's down."
His face brightened, probably thinking that he was actually getting somewhere, "So you were already on the ground?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't remember much."
The investigator rubbed a hand over his face. "...Mariam, may I be frank?"
"You be whoever the hell you want, doc. I don't mind."
"No, that's not what I meant. May I be frank with you?"
"You be Frank and I'll be Mariam."
"That's not what I meant."
"Listen, Frank—"
"That's not my name."
"Oh. Was it a simplified version you used when you immigrated because the English suck and can't pronounce anything?"
"Mariam, I'm trying to explain something important."
She waved a hand, leaning further back into the hospital bed. "Proceed."
The man glanced briefly toward her mother, who had the same exasperated look in her eyes, then back at Mariam. "We're still investigating what happened."
"Okay."
"However..." He hesitated.
Mariam waited.
"So far, we don't have enough evidence to definitively identify who attacked you."
Silence. The investigator watched her carefully. Waiting. Probably expecting outrage or tears or some kind of emotional reaction. Instead, Mariam nodded a couple of times, as much as her physical state would let her. "Cool."
"Mariam, you were assaulted."
"I noticed."
"And whoever did this could get away with it."
"That happens sometimes."
The investigator frowned. "You don't seem upset."
That almost made her laugh. Didn't seem upset? She had spent the last twelve hours alternating between murderous rage and plotting.
She was furious.
She was absolutely furious.
But she knew the system would fail her, so she opted for a shrug. "What am I supposed to do about it?"
The investigator opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"Mariam, I understand that this is difficult."
"Mhm."
"And sometimes people respond to traumatic events by pretending they don't care."
Mariam arched a brow. "I think I'm responding by wanting to go home."
The hope vanished from his eyes. "What I'm trying to say is that if you remember anything, anything at all, it could help."
Mariam looked anywhere but his face. "You know what? Forgive and forget."
The room went silent.
Her mother seemed horrified, as if she was about to protest but decided against it.
The investigator looked somewhat puzzled and confused. "Forgive and forget?"
"Yeah."
"Mariam, that's not—"
"I think it's very healthy."
"Healthy? You want to forgive the people who attacked you?"
She thought about Layan.
Thought about Rania.
Thought about Ruqayya.
Thought about the plan currently brewing inside her mind.
Then she smiled sardonically. "Sure,"
The investigator looked deeply concerned. But eventually, he walked out in defeat, leaving Mariam with a headache and a limit on her pain meds. She didn't dare look at her mother.
Hours could've passed without her knowledge. Time was difficult and the painkillers were useless.
At some point, she drifted asleep. At some point, she woke up. At some point, she dreamt vaguely of a scheme and a large bulletin board with strings connecting everyone, the elaborate conspiracy board she'd always dreamed of. Then she woke up, stared at the ceiling for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. The pounding in her skull continued. The dream should've been forgotten immediately. But instead, the general idea stayed. Ridiculously growing.
By sunrise, she was sitting upright despite several medical professionals having negative opinions about it.
By breakfast, she wanted to go home.
By lunch, she had convinced herself she was a genius.
By evening, she was sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor, triumphant, ready to transfer her plan onto paper. Ready to make it real.
Her head hurt. Her ribs hurt. Her shoulder hurt. Everything hurt, but she fought hard to ignore it all.
Because somewhere between the concussion and the fever dream, a thought had lodged itself firmly inside her head. Not revenge, not exactly. It was something more fundamental.
Layan cared the most about her reputation.
Rania cared the most about belonging.
Ruqayya cared the most about loyalty.
The three of them thrived only because they existed together, because they could offer that to eachother. And suddenly, Mariam found herself staring at the names she'd written across the page.
A slow smile spread across her face as realization settled. She was done with thinking too small. Girls like them weren't swayed by public humiliation or adult interference or the usual bunch of nothing several people had attempted before.
The plan was beginning to take shape. Which should've terrified her. Instead, it felt suspiciously like excitement.
That was probably a bad sign.
But fair was fair. And game was game.
The house had long since fallen silent after her mother had eventually surrendered to exhaustion and retreated to her bedroom, the lights were off. And outside, the world was asleep.
Which left Mariam alone with her thoughts. A terrible place to be, really. The soreness lurking behind her eyes hadn't disappeared.
Then she shuffled off the cold floor of her room, collapsed onto her bed, and remained wide awake for the better part of the night, rustling beneath the covers as the pulleys and gears of her mind operated at a pace faster than she could follow.
Because apparently, getting beaten unconscious had done absolutely nothing to improve her decision-making skills.
She had ignored every piece of medical advice she'd been given so far. It was less about being malicious and more about simply disliking being told what to do.
"Rest," the doctor had said.
"Don't exert yourself." He asked detachedly.
"Take it easy." He demanded
As if any of those things were reasonable requests.
Eventually, she surrendered to a restless sleep. One filled with short, uninforming dreams all blurring into eachother and forming an uncoherent sequence of vague ideas she wouldn't be able to grasp the gist of when she woke up.
In retrospect, it would've been smarter to stay awake. But Mariam was never one for smart decisions.
****
That point was proven further the next morning, when she rose from slumber disoriented and exhausted, already regretting every decision that had woken her up, feeling like she needed an extra hour of sleep or three.
But it all paled in comparison to what she was getting ready to do.
The ride to school was miserable.
Emotionally, Mariam was thriving. Physically, however, the bumps in the road felt like somebody taking a hammer to the back of her skull.
She leaned heavily against her mother as they crossed the courtyard.
"Slow down," she said for what was probably the thousandth time. And when Mariam sped up her pace just to be petty, her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. She considered that a victory.
The assembly hall loomed ahead. Students were already gathering outside, their conversations dying as she approached. Some looked guilty, others looked curious. A few looked excited, which was frankly concerning. Mariam ignored all of them. Mostly because turning her head too quickly made her feel like vomiting. Then she spotted them. Layan, Rania, and Ruqayya. They were standing together near the entrance, lost in worried discussion. For a brief moment, nobody moved. Then all three of them visibly stiffened.
Mariam stopped walking. Her mother nearly ran into her.
"One second." She adjusted her posture, then fixed the three girls with a glare nasty enough to shrivel testicles.
She had lived, unfortunately for them. But she wasn't about to make it a smooth sail just because the bigger picture of revenge had planted itself so clearly in her mind.
Layan immediately looked away. Mariam felt a warm little spark of satisfaction. That was nice. Actually, it was very nice. She should get beaten nearly to death more often.
....
Maybe not.
Rania shifted nervously and Ruqayya folded her arms, but none of them made a move to approach her.
Mariam continued staring out of sheer spite. Eventually, Layan broke their little game of eye contact first.
Coward.
She had known she would, she had spent the entire night constructing an elaborate scheme that pointed precisely to similar reactions, but somehow, seeing Layan's face still made her want to throw rocks. Especially with the attitude she was walking towards her with. "Listen to me, Mariam."
Not in the mood for bullshit, Mariam cut straight through her bluff. "No."
Layan paused, "No?"
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I don't care."
"Mariam, I swear to—"
"No."
"Mariam!"
"Shush,"
Ruqayya appeared to be growing increasingly alarmed. Beside her, Rania seemed ready to start a fight of her own. But they kept to themselves, shying away from exposure when it didn't suit them.
"You've ruined my life enough." The words came out flatter than she'd intended. "I don't want to hear it."
Layan froze, and for a second, she almost looked guilty.
Almost.
Her mother caught up behind her like a knight in shining armor, "Everything alright?"
"Actually, please remove me from this conversation."
She looked between the four girls, puzzled, finally answering after a pause. "Come on,"
And with that, Mariam turned around and left. Because she had bigger things to do today.
Namely, lie to an entire school.
She was a nervous wreck by the time she pulled her chair in the front of the assembly room. The few glances she stole at the many mothers' confused and offended faces were enough to make her heart plummet to her ass.
Each one of them probably thought her girl would never do such thing. Each one of them likely still looked at her girl and saw a angel.
Save for a few, they were all painfully, horribly wrong.
Indeed, while she may have managed to keep her outward composure and play the part of a tired victim, Mariam's inner monologue resembled a chaotic string of holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck and whatthehellamidoingwhatthehellamidoing.
It was not a pleasant feeling. Shockingly contrasting, the duality of humanity at that.
The background chatter around her died almost instantly as Ms. Faten cleared her throat and adjusted her mic. She started off with some speach about morals and values and general bullshit Mariam didn't have enough composure to keep up with.
She tried to catch sight of Noaf through her peripheral vision. Although she remembered nothing after her temple smashed against stone, Mariam had been told that the new girl was the one that found her. Mariam may have not been sitting here if not for her. That thought alone sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine, so she quickly killed it. The girl was weirdly intriguing to Mariam. With the way she refused to explicitly state her opinion on anything but still acted on what she thought was right either way.
Mariam selfishly thought she'd make a good ally.
She caught approximately three words of Ms. Faten's entire speech before her brain stopped accepting new information altogether.
Across the room sat students, parents, teachers. A small army of people she was apparently about to lie to.
She folded her hands in her lap and focused on not visibly vibrating. Beside her, her mother sat stiffly in her chair. Behind her sat Layan. Rania. Ruqayya. Aligned as if they were waiting for some big spiral. Infront of her stood a tired headmistress with no patience or will to live left.
It was an awful place to be. Mariam hoped what she had in store would feel anticlimatic enough to allow a smooth sail into the second phase of her plan.
Let them sweat over it. A petty thought settled, one she should probably shake away.
"...and after speaking with Mariam..." Ms. Faten's mention violently rocked her back to reality.
"...she informed us that she was unable to identify who attacked her."
A hushed chorus of murmurs spread through the audience.
Across the room, Layan stared bewilderedly. Mariam stared right back, giving up on being subtle. The eye contact lasted approximately two seconds before she became aware of her current unrealistic attempt at psychological warfare while concussed.
Dammit, she looked away first this time!
Ms. Faten continued unenthusiastically, her voice monotonous, "She also requested that no further disciplinary action be taken."
There it was.
That statement got everyone's attention. Several parents exchanged confused looks. Even Ms Abeer's face grew surprised. Mariam had worked very hard on this plan. The least they could do was appreciate the dedication, even subconsciously.
"...because she wishes to focus on recovery and moving forward."
Another murmur followed when the microphone crackled softly. Ms. Faten looked toward her. "Mariam?"
Every organ in her body attempted to fail simultaneously. Apparently she was expected to speak.
Well, fuck. She hadn't prepared for that. Excellent. Fantastic. No notes.
Mariam stood slowly. Quick movements still made the room feel like it was spinning, and she needed to get as level-headed as possible in order not to fuck this up. Several dozen pairs of eyes immediately landed on her, not helping with the anxiety. She considered passing away. Unfortunately, that would undermine the speech, so she cleared her throat instead.
"I..." she started, immediately forgot every sentence she'd rehearsed. Her heartbeat accelerated.
The room waited.
Mariam forced herself to continue. "I don't know who attacked me."
Technically true, but rather because she'd blacked out halfway through.
The guilt eased slightly.
"And, for me personally..." Her gaze drifted across the room, over students and teachers and parents, until it landed on Layan.
The girl in question went still.
Mariam held the eye contact. Because if she looked anywhere else, she'd probably faint. "I don't really see a point in holding onto grudges."
A lie. An astronomical lie. An absolutely colossal lie. The sort of lie that should've been visible from space, yet somehow nobody called her out on it.
"So I'd rather just move on." The exact motivations in question remained undisclosed. "I do, obviously, want to heal. Not just physically, but also psychologically."
Another lie, all Mariam currently wanted was revenge. "But I don't think carrying resentment around is going to help me do that."
The room fell silent as everyone absorbed her words. Mariam wondered if anyone could hear her pulse, because she definitely could. And it was a tad bit too loud.
"So..." She swallowed. "I forgive whoever did it."
The three guilty girls' faces did something strange in unison, something between relief and dread.
Good. Let them be confused. Let them beat themselves up over it.
Mariam had spent all night being torn between two nonideals, now it was somebody else's turn.
"I hope they can forgive themselves too." She added finally, because why not be a little petty?
The hall was so quiet a pin drop could be heard, Mariam immediately wanted to launch herself through the nearest window. Her debacle of a speech had sounded significantly better constructed in her head, but out loud, it just seemed like she'd swallowed random inspirational quotes. Still, nobody stopped her. Nobody questioned her. Nobody exposed her. So she decided not to push her luck.
"That's all. Now if you'll excuse me."
A few confused murmurs spread through the assembly.
A scolding was very obviously on the tip of her mother's tongue, but recent injuries had left her surprisingly lenient.
Layan, specifically, looked utterly lost. Which was perfect, absolutely perfect.
She turned toward the exit. Nobody stopped her. Nobody called her back. Nobody knew what to say.
Mariam stepped over the threshold, the doors swinging shut behind her. And just like that, she left everybody sitting there with the aftermath.
Let them wonder. Let them overthink. Let them spend the next week she was medically suggested off of school trying to figure out what she meant.
Because Mariam had finally stopped reacting in the traditional, expected sense.
And if there was one thing more terrifying than her anger, it was her patience.