"So," Ahmed said, tapping the page. "Is he gay?"
"No!" Iris exclaimed, staring at him incredulously. "Obviously not!"
"Iggy's awesome," I added, nodding.
"I would so fall for him if Fang didn't exist," Iris said. "Don't you agree?" she asked me.
"Eh," I replied, shrugging. "I love both of them. Go Figgy!"
"Figgy?" Ahmed asked, his eyes widening. "As in: Fang and Iggy? So they are gay!"
"No!" I groaned. "Figgy as in: Fang and Iggy, but not in that way! What I'm trying to say is that they both rock!"
"Whatever," Ahmed responded, rolling his eyes. He studied the manga for another few minutes quietly before abruptly breaking the silence and declaring that Max, Fang, and Iggy were having a threesome, because there was no other explanation for why James Patterson would make them all the same age. To him, the only reasonable explanation for the three of them being fourteen was them having a love affair.
Iris stared at Ahmed for a long time, her head cocked to one side. "What's a threesome?"
"A threesome, my innocent friend, is a—" Ahmed started, but he wasn't able to finish his sentence because of the hand I clamped over his mouth.
"You do not want to know. Trust me," I assured her. I turned to Ahmed. "You," I said, pointing an accusing finger at him, "are a very perverted, sick person. I do not understand how in the name of all things chocolate-related you are my friend!"
"Maybe you're attracted to funny pervs?" he guessed.
"No….Just…no," I replied, disgusted.
"What's a threesome?" Iris asked once again.
"Nothing!" We both yelled at the same time.
"Anyhow," Ahmed said, turning back to the book. "If they're not having a threesome, then he's hittin' on her. Hard." He pointed to Fang, and next, Nudge.
"Fang and Nudge?" Iris made a face. "Fudge?"
"Yeah! Look: their names even make a word together! They were meant to be!" Ahmed exclaimed.
"No." I shook my head. "You do realize that she's only 11? And he's 14?"
"So?" Ahmed shrugged. "True love cannot be stopped by conventions!"
"I think I just puked in my mouth a little," I said.
"They're exact opposites," Iris added. "Fang is strong and silent, whereas Nudge is super talkative and spontaneous."
"Opposites attract," Ahmed said. Iris replied by sticking her tongue out at him.
"By the way," Ahmed started. "How can this chick be eleven? Either those scientists injected her with something to make her look like that, or she's the bustiest eleven-year-old out there."
"It's impossible for you to look at a picture of a female—even if she is just part of a manga—without making a sexist, weird comment, isn't it?" I sighed.
"At least he didn't say anything about Angel yet," Iris muttered under her breath.
"I'm getting to her, don't you worry," Ahmed said, grinning in a very creeper-child-like way. To say it scared the hell out of me would be the underestimation of the century.
"You're aware of the fact that you would make a perfect pedo in another life, right?" I asked.
"And you would make a perfect bitch, or, in other words, a perfect mini-Paris Hilton."
Somehow, I wasn't insulted. You learn not to take Ahmed seriously.
"Okay," Ahmed continued, rubbing his hands together. "Angel. She's supposed to be the 'sweet' one, right?"
Iris and I both nodded. Ahmed flipped through the book, only stopping to examine the pictures of Angel. After a few minutes, he closed the book with a satisfied snap!
"She's a total bitch-slut," he declared loudly.
The math teacher (whose name I will not mention for private reasons, so let's just call him PoopHead, shall we?) looked up. "Vat did you say?" he asked in his broken English.
"I said 'She's a bitch-slut'," Ahmed responded, his voice rising. "Do you need hearing aids?"
Iris gasped. "How can you talk like that to a teacher?"
"Yes. I vas just about to ask dat."
"Sorry," Ahmed said without any feeling in his voice.
"Van muhr time, and you're out," PoopHead wagged his finger warningly.
"Out of what?" Ahmed muttered under his breath.
I knew Ahmed was getting annoyed, and when Ahmed gets annoyed, well, let's just say you better have a good hiding place, so I immediately changed the subject.
"Why do you think Angel's a bitch-slut?"
"Please! Just look at the clothes she's wearing. Everyone would be able to see her junk if she fell over! Only prostitutes dress that way!"
"Everyone would…see her junk?" Iris asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "You know, I miss the days where junk would mean 'useless things'."
"Yeah, and in Angel's case, her junk is pretty useless, 'cause she's like, what? Five?"
"Six," Iris and I replied simultaneously.
"What difference does it make?" Ahmed asked, raising an eyebrow. "She's not gonna get laid with that look. No one likes a girl that looks 'just precious.' We men prefer 'hot' or 'damn sexy' women. That girl needs a total makeover."
"Actually, she gets one. So does the rest of the flo—"
"Sibe!" Iris whined.
"Oh, right. You're not finished with the book. Sorry."
"And what's with this guy?" Ahmed continued, pointing to The Gasman. "Why does he look hypnotized? What is it with this artist and creepy eyes?"
"Oh, come on," Iris said, taking the book from him and flipping to one of the first pages. "You've gotta agree that he looks adorable here." She pointed to a picture of him in striped pajamas, his hair standing straight, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
"Aww," I smiled a little. "That picture is so cute."
"He looks like a fag," Ahmed replied automatically.
"Were you programmed not to have any feelings?" I inquired.
"I'll show you something interesting," Ahmed said to Iris, completely ignoring me and my snide comment. He flipped to a page where Max was looking out of her window, right after she'd had that nightmare.
"What's so 'interesting' about it?" Iris asked.
"She's in her freakin' underwear!" Ahmed cackled like a madman. Iris took the book and peered closely at the picture. After a few minutes, her eyes widened, she sucked in a breath and threw the book at Ahmed. It bonked (can't find another verb to describe it) him on the head and he yelped out in pain. Everyone looked up to see the source of the noise and Mr. PoopHead strode over and picked up the book. He slammed it on the desk and looked testily into Ahmed's black eyes.
"I sed it vas your last varning. You chose not to listun. Now you must pay the consickuences."
"You know," Iris said, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "I don't get what he's saying half of the time."
"Me neither," I answered from the corner of the mouth. "But I've learned to nod and smile and just go with the flow."
"You vill now stay after class and vrite an essay about intejurs."
Suddenly, the bell rang, startling all of us. PoopHead smiled sickly and laid a bunch of papers on Ahmed's desk. "Haf fon, little boy," he said snidely before strolling out of the room.
Ahmed used a few words that I cannot write. (Let's just say it's the worst thing you can say about your mother's aunt's niece's pet.)
I gave him a look that said "Sorry, but there's nothing I can do" and shrugged. Iris and I collected our things and walked out of the class, leaving behind a steaming Ahmed.
Ahmed rocks. Period. :)
-TWW-