THE BOY WITH THE DREAM

1

 Surya's POV

Is it not weird for a human to go all crazy over things that are out of control instead of cherishing the factors that make life more valuable, purposeful, and happy? Why are we always determined to make the impossible possible when we can simply turn good into best and the best to astounding? Why do we always run after conquering the future instead of enjoying the intoxicating delights offered by the present?

I have found myself questioning my actions, existence, and purpose many times, and each time I feel surprised by the answers my soul provides me. Often, the brain answers the soul.

My soul likes to remain calm unlike the chatterbox for a brain, but when it speaks; it creates storms followed by the horrifying rain of emotions. It is stubborn and knows to have its way into things. It would not stop until it gets what it has been asking for and the relentless pursuit leaves me astonished. It becomes impossible to silence it once it starts to mumble. It never stays quiet and the more it speaks the more restless it makes me feel.

I was nineteen when the voice of soul had echoed within for the first time in my life, compelling me to travel through the paths I would not have taken if I were not so compelled. It was the year that brought miraculous changes in my life and soul and gave my life a purpose and dreams that I would not have ever dreamt if it were not for the slip of fate and the riddled journey. It was the year when my heart learned to believe, forgive, forget, and live. It was the year when I fell in love with her—a mesmerizing human, a replica of my guardian angel, and the girl of my dreams.

The high school—

“Did you find it?” Sankar, a chubby boy with protruding belly huffed at Yohaan who was searching for our names on the list. He was lost amidst the pool of cheerful students, searching for their respective names in the series of dozens of names pinned over the board while our group of four stood near the pillar to discuss over ‘serious’ issues we had been through during the vacation.

Sankar was a Tamilian Brahmin who had immigrated to the United States with his grandfather almost a decayed ago. He was an Indian origin unlike Ayaan and I who had taken birth on the land of America and was the only one among us who had an Indian accent.

The five of us including—Sankar, Samuel, Yohaan, Ayaan, and I, were among the few students in the school who belonged from diverse cultures across the world. Where Sankar, Ayaan, and I had our ancestral roots derived from India, Samuel and Yohaan had their inheritance from Venice and Israel itself. Although none among us had ever been to our ‘own’ country nonetheless, we liked to boast over it on every opportunity we could manage to grab. Perhaps, it was the same passion that had struck the cord or it might be the frequent contact from all the events the ‘community’ arranges in the Boston, Massachusetts for diversities non-native residents, but after years, we somehow had managed to stick together with a firm bond and many shoulders to lean on.

It was our senior year in the Sturgis Charter Public School, the school that has ‘history’ of making the nation’s builder similar to the other educational pride of the state— the HBS and similar to any other school in the locality, it had a rule of categorizing student based on their academic evaluation of the past scores for the eligible sections. The top scorers were allotted the ‘F’ section where they were trained to become the excellent professionals, national hero and titan of the field they choose to pursue while the poor academic scorers were allotted the ‘A’ section to pressurize them enough to score the boundaries. Apart from academics, the other criteria were sports where the players were by default allotted the ‘F’ section so they could part take in scholar’s activities and the elections of student council which wasn’t otherwise permitted to the lower scorer ‘A’ section students.

“Not yet,” Yohaan screamed back as he dodged a few elbows, still managed to squeeze put.

“Why are we even checking it? I know we are the default choice for the F. Coach might have made sure of it.” Ayaan exclaimed, passing a tight smile to Zoe, the school’s drama queen who had brushed past him, making me raise an eyebrow for a silent investigation, on which Ayaan avoided my eyes, making me all the more curious. Ayaan and I had been friends since I could remember. We went to the same elementary school, the same baseball club, and the same communal events. Our families were great acquaintances for years that had ended up making us the ‘diaper buddies’. We were inseparable and could not keep any secret from each other. Honestly, I couldn’t even if I try to and I hoped it went the same with Ayaan.

Ayaan was the most handsome among the five of us with his six feet tall muscular frame, dark locks with matching dark eyes and complementary skin tone. His father was a wealthy real estate dealer in the town, earning him a McLaren P1 as a birthday gift in his driveway, contrary Samuel was the shortest fellow in the group with his four-six height and round oval face. His appearance had earned him the title of ‘pea, the cutest’ among the girls while Yohaan, the Israel man, was hot in his way. He looked more mature with his perfectly trimmed beard, neck length hairs, and well built muscular tattooed body while Sankar, our Tamilian Brahmin was the poor looking fellow in the group. His olive skin was admirable, but it was his facial features that had made him an average, nevertheless, he never gave any head to his look and was always confident and happy the way he was, chubby and funny—whereas I was the nerdy boy in the group. I was not as handsome as Ayaan was or as-built and confident as Yohaan, but I wasn’t chubby, small and shy as well. I was happy with my mother’s grey eyes, father’s curly brown hairs with the five-four height and chunky body. I was not well built, but I wasn’t lean either. I was mediocre and presentable.

“I got it!” Yohaan yelled, rescuing Ayaan from any interrogation and cutting off a remark Samuel was about to deliver as he danced his way to the place. We snapped to his direction and heaved the long sigh. We were placed in the ‘F’ section as predicted by Ayaan for being the part of the School’s baseball team.

I felt ecstasy that I was to share classes with my friends and was looking forward to making the senior year all the more memorable. I never appreciated the idea of extending the circle, being was the caterpillar who loved the coziness of its warming cocoon rather than the horrifying idea of facing the world involving strangers, I was content with the handful of friends I had had and was happy at the thought of sharing classes with them; moreover, I was delighted for someone else who was destined to be in the same classes as I was. 

Ms. Sonia Nagar, the geek of the school, but far from being a loser.

A timid girl with pink glass and dozens of books in the backpack, Sonia Nagar was the brain of Sturgis Charter. She was popular among the teachers for the trophies she had earned in interschool quiz, debate and drama competition. A teacher’s pet and the ever so attentive student, She was my top competitor for the rank in the upcoming exam and a cold rival.

Sonia was gorgeous with her long waist-length hairs, big brown eyes, and slender figure. An Indian beauty who had immigrated with her parents only a few years back, Sonia was the living symbol of beauty with brain. She was witty, cunning, clever, and smart with never-mess-with-me-or-I-will-show-you attitude. She hardly talked with anyone in the school unless it’s necessary and more frequent, minded her business.

The boys hi-fied as they chatted among themselves, meanwhile I stood alongside to observe the students. It was my time-killer to observe people, their behavior, and the volume of expression on their faces as and when they share their opinions. An endeavor to understand mankind, it used to make me feel confident to understand people’s brain and their thoughts.

I watched as our classmates shared their thought over a specific movie, political question, and new technologies. Some of them were talking about vacation while a few showed off the picture of their new companion on the phone.

“What do you say, Surya? Are you in?” Ayaan asked out of nowhere, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Huh!”

“Ah! Never mind.” Sighed Ayaan, shaking his head disappointed.

“I am sorry. I was…thinking.”

“You always do. I wish I could take that over intriguing brain out of your head so you wouldn’t think over and over again.” Snapped Ayaan. “We were asking if you would like to visit this new café near the Uni. It serves delicious nuggets but looks like you are occupied. My bad! I asked you.” He shrugged as the warning bell rang off shaking me off the reverie. The students hurried through the corridors to their respective classrooms while I stood put at my spot.

“How can I not? I am in boys. Will meet you at…?”

“Five-thirty.” Sankar filled in for me and I passed him a cheerful smile. My eyes raked over the hurrying students to steal a glimpse of the competitor, only to find her walking past me with her head hung over Wuthering Heights. I followed her movements with my eyes as she walked past me and entered the classroom without bumping into anyone.

How does she do that? If I ever try to do; I would end up rolling over the floor and banging my head on the nearest object available.

You should ask her. The inner voice replied.

Nodding my head at the idea of talking to her, I walked along with the boys for the first class of the session, determined to make it different from all the monotonous years.