Chapter 3

1127 Words
“Do you know anything about the new boy?” I elbow Shivam. My eyes are on Mishti and the boy she is sitting with, two benches in front of me in the left row. I have two periods with her, English and Economics. She is smiling and occasionally laughing while talking to him. I haven"t seen her talk to many kids in class, not to me for sure. She never even looks at me. Yesterday, I caught her entering the school gate. Seeing her after the long spring break, I instinctively smiled at her. But she turned and went back the way she came. I waited for her because I wanted to know what made her go back out. But then I got bored and moved on. After all, Vikram Sethi doesn’t wait for anyone. “Not much. I talked to him yesterday. He moved from Mumbai last month. His father’s an IG. He’s not into sports, so there was not much to talk about.” Shivam shrugs. “I have to work with him and Mishti on the English project,” I say. “Mishti!” His eyes widen. “RIP, Sethi.” “Shut up. She’s not that bad.” I don"t know why I say it. I don’t even know her. “I know she’s not, but you are.” He looks at her and then back at me and says, “You won’t get your way with her.” Shivam is an asshole, but an asshole I like to keep around because he doesn’t mince words. We’ve been friends since middle school. I’ve never been friends with anyone for that long, except him. Most people—including girls—are just accessories to hang out with, but Shivam is more. He’s the voice of reason to my wacky tendencies. In eighth grade, we went to New Delhi for the IPSC basketball tournament. After getting detention for breaking curfew and visiting the hotel bar, we’ve become inseparable. “You underestimate me, Chaudhry. There’s no girl I can’t charm.” I smirk and look at my latest conquest, Siya Sharma. It was a mistake. Her eyes are already on me. She bats her eyelashes and gives me a coy smile. Scooting over to the corner of her seat, she pats the space beside her. I hate myself. When will I learn? I need to stop leading on girls I don’t actually like. I gesture, indicating I need five minutes, and turn back towards Shivam. By then Nayak, the economics teacher, will come in and she’ll forget I promised to sit with her. “What are you doing?” I watch Shivam scribbling away, copying from one notebook to another. “Economics homework. Have you done it?” “What? No!” I recoil in distaste. “Sorry. I forgot you’re too cool for homework. But I need good grades to run away from my tyrant father, and I don’t have a basketball scholarship.” I take the notebook he is copying from and check out the cover. ‘Mishti Ahuja XII-Humanities.’ Shivam pushes me back and snatches the notebook from my hand. “Sethi, go away. I don’t have time. Mr. Nayak will be here soon.” My eyes turn to Mishti again. It’s only me she avoids. She giggles at the new boy’s joke. Witnessing her biting her lips to stop herself from making a sound, I forget to look away. Her mirth reminds me of the sunrises I sometimes witness when I get up early for practice. It makes me pause and enjoy the feast for my eyes. Everything else can wait. She has medium height with a curvaceous body. Her curly hair is always tied back in a tidy braid at school but I"ve seen it down once. That image is the image I have in my mind when I think of her. And yes, I do think of her sometimes. The short-spectacled guy with dimples, is looking in her big brown eyes and drooling. The poor guy is smitten. “What"s his name?” I ask. “Who?” Shivam doesn"t look up. “The dimple boy.” “Who?” Shivam looks at me like I’m crazy. “The new boy, Yaar.” I give him a slap on the back. “Saahil Mahajan.” He gives me a look. “Why are you so interested in him?” “I’m not. Definitely not about working with these two weirdos. Tell you what? I’ll just bail. Let them handle it themselves,” I say. “What about the grades? Khanna warned you.” “I don"t care about stupid grades. And anyway, all these warnings mean nothing. At the end of the day, our teachers want us to do well in board exams. She won’t fail anyone in internals. They have to maintain the school’s reputation.” Forcing my eyes away from my partner duo, I scan the classroom and, the dumbass that I am, I catch Siya’s eyes again. What the hell! I’ll just go sit with her. At least I have a better chance of hooking up with her than the girl who refuses to look at me. I stroll to the third seat from the front. Dropping my backpack on the floor and sliding in beside her, I adjust the seat to accommodate my legs. “Hey, Gorgeous,” I say. She’s tall and slim. Her hair is straight and long. She is the definition of gorgeous. “Hello Champion, wanna hang out after school today?” She leans in. The strong smell of her rose perfume makes me move back. “I have practice.” And I’m also planning to get something to read from the library, but she doesn’t need to know that. Maybe I’ll find Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. I’ve been looking for it since I watched the movie during spring break. “Sad. I was looking forward to doing the English project with you. Looks like the universe is against us.” She pouts. When she shows her dejection this way, with her plump lips, I feel deprived too. “I feel ya. Let’s make up for it and meet for coffee tonight, what say?” There’s a sensible part of me, somewhere inside my head, that keeps warning me when my mouth goes off, giving out insincere invitations. But yeah, I never take note of it. “Really! I would love that.” She squeals and links our arms to sit close to me. Forcing my eyes away from my nemesis, I try to enjoy Siya’s warm body next to mine. “Ah, I love your smell. When will I get a taste?” Keeping her eyes down, she smiles.
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