"Shit, I'm already late! Mumma, yaar, jaldi karo na—main late ho jaungi!" I shout, my hands fidgeting as she braids my hair.
"Chup! Jab do ghante se bed mein chipki hui thi, tab yaad nahi aaya ki late ho jaayegi? Ab mujhe suna rahi hai," my mother snaps, and I can feel my cheeks heat up.
Great, just great, I think. I flip my braid, trying to maintain my posture and attitude. I try not to show how flustered I am while my mind races through all the things I still need to grab before leaving.
"Where's my water bottle? And my notebook?" I mutter to myself, patting my bag frantically.
My mother shakes her head from the kitchen. "Tumhare saare cheezein ready hain. Tujhe sirf ab bhaagna hai."
I quickly shove my bag onto my shoulder, slipping into my shoes as my mother fusses. "Mumma, I'll be fine! Byeee" I yell back, already halfway to the door.
The honking outside tells me the auto is waiting, and my stomach does that nervous flip it always does on hectic mornings.
I arrive at school, and all my senses hit me at once. "Bas do saal aur is school mein. Khush hoon ya udaas, samajh nahi aata. Is jagah ne mujhe sab kuch diya hai—aur shayad mujhse kaafi kuch le bhi liya." I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the bell. I rush into the school, searching for the right class.
After a hectic two minutes, I find it. I enter the class, relief washing over me—I'm not late. I don't want to be on the latecomers list again. I know it won't stay up by the end of the year, but at least I'm not late on the first day.
I start walking toward the back seat. More students come in. I don't recognize these faces. This year feels different—everyone seems new. I think to myself, "Kese class me rkhdi mujhe. Ek insaan ko bhi nhi jaanti. Mere koi bhi dost nhi hai yrr."
Right then, I see a girl walking toward me. Her hair is really pretty. She waves and asks, "Why are you sitting over there? Are you new to this school?"
I look at her, confused, and respond, "No, I am not... I just went to Building A the past two years." That's when I realized I chose Computer Science with Entrepreneurship. That's why I got shifted to Building B. No wonder everyone looks so new to me.
Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Oh, I see. Do you wanna shift to the front?"
"No, thank you. I like sitting in the back," I reply. It's not that I don't like studying—I'm just used to sitting in the back with my friends. It feels more comfortable than the front.
"Are you sure? You don't know who sits in this row, and I think you shouldn't risk it. You seem like a nice girl; don't get yourself into a mess in this classroom," she says.
She looks concerned, which I don't understand. What's the big deal about sitting in the back? And who in this row could make my life hell? Well, I guess that's what she means. But I don't want to go to the front.
"I don't get it. But don't worry. I can handle people. Thank you for your concern though," I say, acknowledging her care.
"Your wish. I can't stress it enough. BTW, my name is Avni," she says, offering a handshake with a genuine smile.
"Isha here!" I reply, smiling and shaking her hand. She seems really nice, with a pure heart—something people usually lack. Then she goes back to her seat. I turn back to my seat, shrugging it off—but her words stay with me longer than they should.
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