Isha

It had been a week since school started and the half days had turned into full days. My class teacher walked in with his usual bright smile as some girls on the first bench fawned over his dimples, it was disgusting really. The students from A and C sections were completely rogue, they lacked respect for others and especially for teachers.

Not a single soul in my class stood up so I took the initiative and straightened, "Good morning sir."

A group of students scattered around the classroom stood too and echoed my words like parrots but the majority remained seated.

My class teacher smiled, "There's no need. Sit, sit!"

"May I come in, sir?" A familiar girl stood at the door, the ends of her pigtails struggling to touch her shoulders. One of her hands was tightly gripping onto the handle of her dull green bag while the other arm was stretched out like she was taking an oath. It was one of the unwritten rules of schools that I never understood, are we supposed to be Nazis?

My class teacher gestured her to get in as he asked, "Where were you this entire week, Shristi?"

Shristi, the name suddenly struck a chord in my mind. I met her at a friend's birthday party last year. She didn't make a good first impression, she and her friends were making extremely homophobic jokes and that's scary when you're closeted. I observed another girl grimacing at Shristi's sight, I think she was at the party too? And they seemed to be close back then, but oh well, I couldn't care less.

Shristi stopped in her tracks and turned to my teacher, "Sir I was in Mumbai, my father got a new job there and he wanted me to get used to the place so I could adjust easily after moving there once I finish my 10th."

He smiled and nodded his head, I think I only ever saw this man happy. Well that's a nice thing.

Shristi held a long, unbroken eye contact with the girl who was previously grimacing at her as if she was lost in her own thoughts and past before she glanced at me and then walked up to my bench. She found her new future in my eyes.

"Isha, can I sit here please?" Her voice shuffled between awkwardness and relief. I was surprised she remembered my name but I didn't utter a word and just walked out to let her in. I had always loved the corner spot. Shristi exchanged smiles with my other two benchmates and Ashwini, who was seated on the bench in front of us.

The bell rang and the prayer began. I joined my palms together and interlocked my fingers in pretentious faith to the Christian prayer. I didn't repeat the words, I wasn't obliged to. But I knew I would have to if I wanted to achieve one of my childhood dreams, because the prayer is recited by the Head Girl of the school.