2. The Boys

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In walked Atharv Kapoor, casually, hands in pockets, no rush on his face. His white shirt was half-tucked, his tie hanging like an afterthought.

The line of latecomers had already begun forming near the edge of the field, a separate column near the basketball court. A few juniors stood nervously, adjusting their belts like it'd help. Atharv? He strolled to the end of the line with zero guilt.

Shrivika saw him and whispered, "There goes Atharv. Late again. First day of school and our sunshine guy being late on his first day. Classic Atharv move."

Aisha smirked. "Of course he is. Rules exist, but that guy walks around like he's above gravity."

The assembly continued with prayer, anthem and the principal's ever-stretching announcements. Then, the bell rang.

"MOVE TO YOUR CLASSES IN LINE!" shouted one of the PE teachers.

The student crowd shifted in waves, but the line of latecomers stayed back as expected.

Samaira stepped off the stage platform and walked straight toward them, clipboard still in hand, expression unreadable. Atharv stood second from last, arms folded now, looking mildly amused. She began taking names in a firm voice, no nonsense.

"Name, class, reason."

One by one, the students gave their reasons. Some stammered about traffic, one forgot their ID, another mumbled something about oversleeping.

Then she reached him. "Atharv Kapoor. 12-A. Reason?"

He didn't blink. "Didn't feel like rushing."

She looked up from her clipboard, straight into his eyes. Her tone stayed even. "Noted. You know the policy."

He tilted his head, still holding that half-smirk. "Yeah, yeah. Ten rounds. Want a selfie as proof this time?"

Samaira didn't even react. Just wrote it down. "Ten laps. Today. Before dispersal. You miss them, I escalate. Simple."

He gave a lazy nod. "Anything for the Vice Head Girl."

She glanced up once more. "Save the charm for someone who'll fall for it. Move."

Atharv gave a short laugh, then turned and walked off, whistling under his breath.

A few meters away, Shrivika watched it all and whispered to Aisha, "The tension between them is... not normal."

Aisha replied, "It's either war or a love story. No in-between."

The sun beat down hard by the time Atharv finished his tenth lap. His white shirt clung to his back, half-untucked, and his hair was damp with sweat. He slowed to a walk near the end, panting lightly, but still somehow managing to look like he'd just walked out of a movie instead of a punishment.

The coach blew the whistle lazily. "Done. Go to class. Try being on time for once, Kapoor." Atharv didn't respond. Just raised a hand in a mock salute, already walking off the field.

He grabbed his bottle from the side bench, took a long swig of water, then ran his hand through his messy hair, slicking it back. His jaw was tight but not from the running, he was used to that. It was from the absolute irritation boiling under his skin.

"Miss Chashmish Vice Head Girl," he muttered under his breath, pushing open the corridor door. "Clipboard leke ghoomti hai jaise army general ki head ho. Bina expression ke, straight ten laps. No warning, no mercy. Psycho kahi ki."

(Miss Glasses, Vice Head Girl, She carries the clipboard like she’s some Army General’s Head. Without any expressions just, straight ten laps. No warnings, no mercy, such a psycho.)

A few students glanced at him as he passed, but he ignored them. His shoes squeaked slightly against the freshly mopped floor as he reached the door of Class 12-A.

He opened it and stepped in, just as the English teacher was mid-sentence. Everyone turned for a second. The teacher paused. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Kapoor."

Atharv offered a textbook-smile. "Wouldn't miss this class for anything, ma'am."

She gave him a look. "Take your seat. Silently."

He nodded and strode to the very back row, ignoring the scattered grins and elbow nudges from the other boys. He dropped into his seat and let out a long sigh.

"Bhai, tu mar gaya kya?" one of the guys whispered.

(Bro are you dead or what?)

Atharv opened his bottle again. "Not dead. Just emotionally violated by a clipboard and a pair of judgemental glasses."

"Again Samaira?" the guy asked, grinning.

Atharv leaned back in his chair; arms folded behind his head.

"She doesn't talk, she announces. Doesn't warn, just punishes. And that too with a full head-girl attitude. 'Atharv Kapoor, ten laps.' Bas. Like my name's an offense."

The guy chuckled. "Tu usse thoda softly baat kiya kar kabhi. Ek din ek do laps kam lagane ko milenge."

(You should talk a little softly to her sometimes. One day you’ll get to run one or do two laps less.)

Atharv smirked, tapping his pen against the desk. "Soft? Uske liye? Bhai, Miss Chashmish Vice Head Girl ko bas rule book se pyaar hai."

(Soft? For her? Bro Miss Glasses Vice Head Girl only loves the rule book.)

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, still fuming just a bit but it wasn't just anger. Something about her calmness, her absolute refusal to be fazed by him it got under his skin.

Way too much.

The classroom buzzed with faint chatter and the occasional thud of books as the English teacher scribbled something on the whiteboard. Samaira, from the nearby section, could probably hear Atharv's pen clicking with frustration if she were close enough.

Just then, a soft knock interrupted the rhythm. Everyone turned.

The teacher glanced at the door, then called, "Come in."

A boy stepped inside, tall, sharp-featured, uniform perfectly pressed, bag hanging neatly over one shoulder. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his eyes scanned the class quickly, expression unreadable.

"This is Krivan Daiwik. He has just transferred from DPS Bangalore. Science stream." the teacher said, adjusting her glasses. "Welcome him properly."

The teacher continued, "You can take that seat next to Atharv Kapoor, back row."

Atharv, still slouched in his seat, raised his brows. "Wow. What did he do to deserve this seat of punishment?"

Krivan walked over calmly, his footsteps quiet but firm. He pulled out the chair beside Atharv, dropped his bag beside the desk, and sat down without a word.

Atharv leaned slightly toward him. "First day and already late to class. Impressive." he said, smirking. "I got ten laps for that. What's your punishment? Stuck beside me for the year?"

Krivan turned his head, finally looking at him. His voice was low, even. "At least I get a window seat and some drama for free. Seems worth it."

Atharv blinked, then let out a laugh. "Okay, okay. He talks. And he bites. Good start."

Krivan gave a small smile, then pulled out a pen and quietly began writing down whatever was left on the board, already tuning out the side whispers and stares from curious classmates.

Atharv watched him for a second, then muttered under his breath, "Great. Another mysterious brooder in the building. Just what we needed."

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The classroom was quiet, well, mostly. The economics teacher was droning on about micro-something while half the class doodled quietly in their notebooks or blinked into nothingness.

Shrivika sat beside Samaira, tapping her pen lightly on her thigh, trying not to burst from excitement. She leaned closer and whispered, "Aira... guess what I finally managed to do last night?"

Samaira didn't look up from her notes, still scribbling. "Learn restraint?"

Shrivika rolled her eyes. "Funny. No. I finally played that song."

That made Samaira pause.

She turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "No way. The song? The one you've been crying over for a week because you weren't able to get the chords right?"

Shrivika grinned. "YES. I stayed up past 1 a.m., but I played the whole thing. No wrong chords. I felt like I unlocked a secret level in life."

Samaira smirked and whispered back, "So your zombie heartbreak arc transitioned into your guitarist comeback arc. Growth."

"I was literally going to send you a voice note of me playing at 1:07 AM but—" Shrivika was cut off mid sentence.

"—you remembered I'm not emotionally available after midnight. Thank you." Samaira smirked and continued writing.

Shrivika bit back a laugh, nearly knocking her pen off the desk.

A few rows ahead, a student turned and gave them a dirty look. "Ssshhh."

Samaira leaned in again and whispered, "I want to hear it after school. If it sucks, I'll fake tears. If it's amazing, I'll make you post it. Fair?"

Shrivika grinned wide. "Deal. But you better not fake cry like last time. It was so obvious. You looked constipated."

Before Samaira could retaliate with a comeback, the school bell rang. The class stirred.

The class monitor stood up and said, "Guys, ma'am is not coming for the next period. She's on leave."

And suddenly, like magic, the entire room shifted from dull to buzzing.

Someone shouted, "YES! Free period!" A guy in the back tossed his pencil in the air like he'd won a lottery.

Shrivika turned to Samaira with wide eyes.

"Tell me you brought snacks. Please. Don't lie."

Samaira, already digging into her bag, pulled out a small tiffin box. "Mini samosas and chocolate. I plan ahead."

Shrivika clutched her hand. "You're the love of my life."

Samaira smirked. "You say that every time I feed you."

"Because it's true. My standards are snack-based." Shrivika eyed the box hungrily.

They both laughed quietly, the background now filled with other friends shifting benches, some pulling out phones under desks, others gathering around someone playing a game on their phone under max brightness dimmed low.

The classroom was in full unofficial break-mode now, chairs turned, quiet chaos blooming in every corner.

Shrivika had just finished her second mini samosa and was licking a tiny bit of chutney off her finger when she noticed Samaira watching her. Not just casually, but that intense, calculating look she got when she was planning something.

"What? Ab aise kyu dekh rhi hai jaise kha jayegi mujhe?"

(What? Why are you looking at me like you're about to eat me?)

Samaira leaned in, lowering her voice. "Let's go to the music room. Right now."

Shrivika blinked. "Why? Tujhe konse naye nashe ho rhe hai?"

(Why? What new stuff are you high on these days?)

It’s usually said in a teasing or sarcastic tone when someone is acting strangely, overly excited, or just out of character. It doesn’t necessarily refer to actual substance use—it’s often metaphorical, like being obsessed with a new hobby, trend, or behavior.

Want to turn this into a witty comeback or use it in a scene? I’ve got ideas!

Samaira's eyes sparkled. "You're gonna sing. And play the song."

Shrivika almost choked on air. "Excuse me??"

"You said you nailed it. I want to hear it. Alone. No audience. Just us." Samaira’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Shrivika looked around, whispering, "What if someone sees us walking out? What if a teacher shows up suddenly and we get caught?"

Samaira raised an eyebrow. "Shrivi. It's a free period. We have fifteen teachers, three notice boards, and zero supervision. Come on."

"Still—"

Samaira locked eyes with her. "If you don't play it now, you'll chicken out. And you know it. I'm not letting your midnight masterpiece live and die inside your head."

Shrivika hesitated for a heartbeat. Then sighed.

"Fine. But if I mess up—"

"I'll lie convincingly. I promise." Samaira smiled.

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HOW WAS THE CHAPTER, LOVELIES?