We were sitting in class when our class teacher walked in. He was young, fit, and always had these glasses perched on his nose that made him look even more serious—but in a good way, you know? He was our English teacher, and honestly, all the girls liked him, including me. And the best part? He was our class teacher.
How cool is that?
"Gooooooddddd mmmmoooorrrrnnniiinnngggg, sirrrrrrrrr!" The whole class chorused, standing up as one.
He smiled, that kind of smile that made you think he actually enjoyed being there with us. He set his file and the books he was carrying down on the desk in front of the green board, then sat down. "Good morning, class. You may sit," he said.
His voice—ugh, it was so tempting. Like, how does someone have a voice that nice?
"Thaaaankkk youuuuu sirrrrrrr" We all sat down, trying to contain the excitement that always bubbled up when he was around. It's just one of those good starts to the day when you have a teacher like him in charge.
"So, we're going to start a new chapter today," he announced, "The Lost Child."
There was this rustle of pages, that soft, chaotic sound of everyone flipping through their textbooks to find the chapter. My fingers moved quickly.
The air in the room felt light, almost like a collective sigh of relief that we were in his class, about to dive into a new story. I could already tell it was going to be a good day.
But just as we were settling into the morning routine, the classroom door creaked open, and in walked the class teacher from Section B. We all jumped to our feet, "Ggooooddd mmoorrnnniiinnnggg, sssiiiirrr," we echoed, standing straight like soldiers. He barely acknowledged us with a curt nod, and we sat back down, muttering a half-hearted, "Thankkk youu, sir."
This guy was our Hindi teacher, and to be honest, he was known for being pretty arrogant. Not even a simple 'Good morning' back? Ugh, typical. We all secretly called him 'Fatty Patil.' He could've at least pretended to care.
I couldn't catch what he and Verma Sir were discussing, but whatever it was, it didn't seem good. My stomach sank when Verma Sir turned back to us with a resigned look. "Bring your books and come to Class B. We're going to have this lecture together," he announced.
What the actual heck?
"But sir, isn't this their Hindi period? Is Patil Sir going home?" I asked, trying to hide the mixture of happiness and dread that bubbled up. Happy because we didn't have to endure Fatty Patil's boring lecture today, but sad because we had to go to their class instead.
My mind raced. Everyone else probably had friends saving seats for them, but what about me? The thought of walking into that classroom without a spot made my chest tighten. I hesitated, letting the others go ahead, hoping for some last-minute miracle where a friend might wave me over to a saved seat. But who was I kidding? I hadn't exactly made the kind of friends who'd do that for me.
"Come on, Saher, let's go," Verma Sir called, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts. He gave me a reassuring smile, and I quickly fell into step beside him.
"Sir, are you going to take both periods?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Normally, our second period was Hindi, but their second period was English.
"Let's see how it goes," he replied, his tone warm. "If you're not too tired after one lecture, I'll continue. If you are, we'll have some self-study time." He smiled, and I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease.
How thoughtful he is.
We entered Class B, and the room buzzed with energy as everyone greeted him. I scanned the room nervously, hoping against hope that I'd find a seat. To my surprise, there was an entire empty bench right in the middle. My heart skipped a beat. A whole bench, just for me?
I hurried over and plopped down, feeling a small victory in claiming the spot. But as I glanced around, I noticed something strange—other students were crammed together, four to a bench, looking cramped and uncomfortable. Why was this one empty? Suspicion flickered through my mind. I checked the bench—it was spotless, no reason for it to be avoided.
"Hey, Samarth, did you bring a pen?" A voice I knew all too well drifted over to me. My heart jumped into my throat, and I turned to look.
Oh no.
It was him. Again. Sitting right beside my bench, as if fate had nothing better to do than torture me. He caught my eye, and I froze, panic rising in my chest. I quickly looked down, pretending to be utterly engrossed in my book, my face burning with embarrassment.
Why did it have to be him? Of all people!
Did he actually save this bench for me? The thought alone made my eyes widen, and I immediately cursed myself. Him? Secure a place for me? No way. We're just...?
Actually, we're nothing.
Embarrassment flooded through me, and I quickly called my bench partner to sit with me. She came over happily, and I felt a bit of relief. We've always had a great bond, mostly because we both enjoy studying.
As soon as we settled, sir's voice rang out, "Rupali, read the chapter."
Rupali stood up, her voice steady as she began, "It was a festival of spring. From the wintry shades of narrow lanes and alleys emerged a gaily..."
I tried to keep my eyes on the lines, focusing on the familiar words. Concentrating on books has always been easy for me, a way to block out the world around me. But today... today was different. It was impossible to ignore the stupid junk sitting on the bench beside me, who had the audacity to be sleeping.
Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this guy?
How does he manage to come second with an attitude like this? My eyes kept drifting from the book to him, as if they had a mind of their own.
I forced myself to focus on the chapter, but my thoughts were scattered. Why did he have to sleep now, of all times? It's only the first period, for God's sake! Yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but steal another glance.
There he was, head down on the desk, completely oblivious to everything, including the lecture. How does he do it? How can he just sleep through class like it's nothing? My irritation grew, mingling with a strange sense of curiosity.
I couldn't believe this guy—Rehaan, always acting like the rules don't apply to him. While the rest of us were trying to stay awake, he had the audacity to just... sleep. And it wasn't just a quick doze-off; he was out, like the class was his personal nap time.
I was completely lost in my thoughts, staring at him in disbelief, when Twinkle jabbed me with her elbow. I turned to her, confused, and she nodded toward the front of the class, eyes wide.
"Saher," a sharp voice cut through the room, snapping me back to reality. My heart jumped, and I looked up to see Verma sir glaring at me. Oh, great. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights.
He shifted his gaze from me to Rehaan, who was still peacefully asleep. "Rehaan!" he barked. Rehaan slowly lifted his head, blinking like he'd just woken up from the best sleep of his life. Seriously, how does he get away with this?
"You're distracting her," Verma sir accused, pointing right at me. My stomach dropped. Why did he have to say that in front of everyone?
I blurted out, "No, sir, I wasn't distracted... I was just—"
"Then why were you looking at him?" Verma sir cut me off, making my voice die in my throat. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, and I wanted to sink into the floor.
"But I didn't do anything to distract her," Rehaan chimed in, sounding way too calm for someone who'd just been caught sleeping. I swear, this guy has no shame. I was burning with embarrassment, and there he was, acting like it was no big deal.
"You both get out of the class and stay there until the period ends. Hands up!" Verma sir's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
"But sir..." I tried to protest, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was spinning—how did this happen? I'd never been punished like this before. It's all because of him.
I hate him so much right now.
While I was still processing the whole situation, Rehaan casually got up and walked out of the classroom like he didn't have a care in the world. I just stared after him, stunned. Is this normal for him? Does he get in trouble like this every day?
He's so weird.
After a brief, pointless attempt to plead my case, I reluctantly stood up and made my way to the door. As I stepped into the corridor, I looked to the right and, of course, there he was. Leaning against the wall like he owned the place, one leg bent with his heel against the wall, hands casually stuffed in his pockets.
"Bas style marne bol do isko," I muttered under my breath, feeling my irritation bubble up again. I stood beside him, but made sure to keep a good distance between us.
He turned his head to glance at me, his expression as unreadable as ever, then looked away like nothing had happened. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anger and something else I couldn't quite name. I bit my lip, wishing I could just disappear into thin air.
I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. What if he asked me why I was looking at him? God, I really didn't want to answer that. To be honest, I didn't even know the answer myself. Why was I looking at him? I didn't have a clue, and the idea of trying to explain it made me even more flustered.
Leaning against the wall, I tried to compose myself, clasping my hands behind my back. My mind was racing with thoughts I didn't want to face. That's when he broke the silence.
"Hey," he said casually, his voice so nonchalant that it caught me off guard. I glanced over, noticing he was looking down at his foot, and—wait, was he smiling?
"Do you think pigs are cute?" he asked, suddenly looking up at me, his tone as if he'd just asked about the weather.
I blinked, staring at him in disbelief. For a few seconds, I couldn't even process his words. Then, anger flared up inside me, hot and immediate.
What was wrong with this guy?
"What do you think of yourself?" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended, but I couldn't help it. He'd been pushing my buttons from day one.
"Keep your voice down, or we're doomed," he replied, pouting like a child. "I was just asking! Why are you scaring me?"
"Am I scaring you? Who do you think I am, a ghost?" I shot back, my voice rising again. I could feel my frustration boiling over.
"Keep it down, yaar," he urged, but I was too worked up to care. I was about to give him a piece of my mind when suddenly the classroom door swung open. We both snapped our mouths shut as Verma sir stepped out, his eyes zeroing in on us.
"Who gave you permission to talk?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Sir, he started it!" I said quickly, pointing at Rehaan, desperate to shift the blame away from myself.
"Saher, I thought you were a very obedient student. What's wrong with you?" His words stung, making me feel like I'd been slapped. I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.
This was all because of Rehaan—everything was his fault.
"And why aren't your hands up?" Verma sir's voice boomed, reminding me of our punishment. I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified, and slowly raised my hands above my head. I peeked over at Rehaan, who sighed before lifting his hands as well.
"And if I catch you two talking again, then finish your conversation in the principal's office. Maybe he'll suggest you go home and chill during your suspension," Verma sir warned, his glare like a laser burning into me. I stared at the floor, too ashamed to look up, my hands trembling slightly as I held them up. I couldn't believe this was happening—all because of that stupid guy. My day had officially gone from bad to worse, and it wasn't even breakfasttime yet.
Here is the second chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.
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