The morning light felt thinner, like someone had turned the brightness down on the whole world. I woke up hungry but told myself I would eat something between classes. I packed my usual lunch, wrapped it neat so nothing would spill, and shoved an extra apple in because Mum had said to take care of myself.
By second break my stomach was buzzing like a phone on silent. I tightened the strap on my backpack and headed for the courtyard where the concrete steps catch the sun. The place smelled like sunscreen and damp backpacks. I set my bag beside me and reached for the sandwich I had been looking forward to, but the bag was gone.
Cameron was walking past with his group and he laughed when he saw the space where my lunch had been. He had my sandwich folded into his palm, the wrapper crumpled, and before I could stand up he flicked it toward the bins and it hit the plastic lid and bounced inside with a wet, ugly sound. Tyler and Jackson cracked up like someone had told the best joke of the term. People turned. Some looked surprised. Some looked away.
My stomach did a sharp twist. Heat rose to my face but this time it was not the kind that comes from embarrassment. It was the kind that gnaws. I wanted to yell, to stomp, to rip the wrapper from the bin, to demand my apple back, to make Cameron feel the small, steady hunger I was feeling. The words pooled behind my teeth and then slid back down because the thought of making a scene in front of everyone sounded heavier than being hungry.
I sat there, hands in my lap, and felt the sandwich disappear into someone else like a private thing stolen from me. My stomach growled loud enough that a kid nearby looked over and smirked. I laughed a little to hide the noise and it came out thin. Lunch ended and I had nothing with me. The next few classes passed in a blur that had more dizziness than focus. My head felt light and my heartbeat kept skipping like a broken record.
By afternoon I was in science and the room blurred at the edges. My vision wavered and a cold line ran down my spine. I pressed my palm to my chest and counted breaths. Liam Patterson, who sits two rows behind me, glanced over and narrowed his mouth. He looked like he wanted to help, like someone caught in a thought that did not know what to do. He did not move. He fumbled with his pencil and then looked back at the lab bench as if the chemistry set suddenly needed all his attention.
The bell could not come soon enough. I gathered my bag slowly so no one would notice my knees shaking. Mr Chen was at the door, asking students about the homework, his face half turned toward Liam in a teacher way. No one asked me if I was okay.
When I walked home the hunger clenched in my ribs. Passing the bakery on the corner smelled like a victory I could not afford. I told myself I would tell Mum, but my pride sits like another person in my chest. I imagined her worrying, fingers twisting at the hem of her hijab, Dad's jaw tightening. I did not want to be the thing that made them stretch thinner than they already were.
At home Ahmed and Soraya were already a noise train. Ahmed had the controller and Soraya wanted the TV to play a cartoon. They pulled and shouted and Mum moved between them like a referee at a small, ongoing game. Dad tried to explain fractions to Ahmed from a workbook and then sighed and went back to the laptop. They were in their own orbit of chaos, and it took everything in me to not interrupt with the truth.
I went to my room with my school bag like a shield and sat on the edge of my bed. The hunger made my hands shake. I opened my laptop and stared at the code I had been working on, the program that sorted music files by year and artist. The screen was a small clean space where input equals output and mistakes can be fixed. Writing a line that runs without errors felt like catching breath. I typed slowly at first and then faster until the logic pinned itself together and there it was, a tiny thing that worked because I told it to work.
Dinner smelled like chicken and rice. I sat at the table and watched everyone else eat. The food on my plate tasted like the air around it. Mum asked me if everything was fine and the question landed like a soft coin on the table. I swallowed and said, "Yeah, all good." It was easier than saying the truth. Ahmed asked me to pass the salt and I did. Soraya told a joke and everyone laughed. I kept my silence and let them have the small light that came from a family that can find warmth in a noisy kitchen.
That night I did not open the fridge. I sat on the back step and wrote code until the streetlights blinked on. The program worked and the small success hummed through me like a bandage. I went to bed with my stomach still empty but my brain tired and steady. The hunger sat like a pebble in my pocket, small and constant and not something I could show without making the people I love worry.
Diary Day 4
Cameron took my lunch and threw it in the bin. I did not eat all day and my stomach kept making noises that made me feel small. I got dizzy in the afternoon and Liam saw but did not help. At home Mum and Dad were busy with Ahmed and Soraya fighting over the TV and I could not bring myself to tell them I was hungry. I coded until late because the screen listens and the code obeys. I lied when Mum asked if I made friends and I lied tonight too. Tomorrow I will try to eat something before I leave. Tomorrow I will try to be louder in a way that does not make Mum worry. For now I will keep quiet, keep the hunger to myself, and let the code be a small thing that goes my way. A.