Edited

All this bubble I'm creating bursts in a second as I hear a voice shouting, "HERE COMES THE MURDERER!"

Why would there be a murderer on campus? What sort of creep would even try to harm some other person?

I turn back to look for the "murderer". To my shock, I find no one.

As I turn to my front, I notice a large crowd starting to form infront of me, with a guy standing too close into my personal space.

I clear my throat and step back, and try to join into the crowd. As I move to my right, everyone standing there speed away from me, as if I were an untouchable.

I stand there awkwardly, rubbing one foot with another.

"How could you even dare come here?", a girl behind the guy shouts.

"Umm, what's your prob?", I retort.

"She dares ask me what's my problem?", she literally scoffs.

"You sure you are sane?", I say.

"Shut up, bitch!", she shouts.

"Wh-", I begin to say, but the guy cuts me off in the middle saying, "Stop it Naina."

The girl says "hmph", and steps back a little, still eyeing me with a malevolent look.

He points at me angrily, and says with a strain in his voice, "I don't care what off-handed means you've used to clear off your name, but I won't rest until I see you. Behind. The. Bars." 

And he storms off.

The girl behind him, apparently Naina, comes to me, looks me dead in the eyes, and says, "Your life is going to be HELL!", and she runs behind him.

What the actual fuck?

Everyone eventually leaves, sporting disgusting looks on their faces, some whispering to their neighbors, and contorting their mouths.

I fall back onto a nearby bench, trying to comprehend what just happened. 

Okay, let's put all the facts in order.

Apparently, I was a murderer, and no one in this campus would stop until they have seen me behind the bars. And there were even lethal looks given by some people, and one swore to make my life hell.

God! Is this why my parents has uneasy looks on their faces before sending me to college today? What exactly happened in when I was knocked off? I don't even have any friends on this campus to talk to.

I trail off in my thoughts, and jump up in my seat when I hear a voice saying, "I know you didn't do it."

I look up and find myself staring at a gorgeous guy sliding next to me. 

"What?", I ask. I seem to be using that word a lot today.

"I know you didn't murder him", he says, swooping off his brown locks from his eyebrows.

"Whom?", I ask again.

He gives me a sad smile before whistling to a random tune. After a while, I decipher it to be the music of 'See You Again' by Wiz Khalifa.

I sit silently, not probing further, fidgeting with my bracelets.

He starts speaking softly after a while, "Rishi was our best friend. Aarav, the guy who shouted at you back at the entrance, Rishi and I were inseperable since childhood.

"Rishi was found dead a week back, and you were present in the same room as him, albeit unconscious. You are presumed to be the killer around here." He gives me another sympathetic smile.

"Why do you believe me then?", I ask, facing him.

"You don't seem the kill-ish type."

"What?"

He smiles, and reaches out as if to brush my hair out of my face, but lets his hand fall down limply by his side.

"Seriously, why?", I try to start the conversation after a few minutes.

The bell suddenly rings, signaling the end of the first period.

"That would be a story for another time." He stands up, and takes out his phone. "Before you go, I just wanna say this. I really believe you, this is not a trap or something. Keep up your spirit for the coming days." He leaves towards block B.

Block B is for the second years. So, he might be my senior. Why would he believe me when no one else believes me? That too, the dead kid was his best friend. And I guess he really stressed on the word 'trap'. Is he trying to get information from me by pretending to be on my side? 

I stand up, collecting my bag and head towards my next class. I should be careful for the next few days.

All the 60 pairs of eyes follow my entire movements as I slide into nearest bench. I find it hard to even take a breath and sit still like a statue, until my lungs start aching from lack of oxygen.

The lecturer enters the class behind me, and closes the door.

"Good morning class. Now, where did we stop at the last lecture?", she gets on to the point.

She is wearing a white cotton saree, and looked at the class through her large magnifying glasses seated at the bridge of her nose.

An over-enthusiastic student from the first bench answers, "construction principles with respect to structural stability, ma'am."

"And on what does the depth of concrete bed of the foundation depends upon?", she continues.

"The projection of the concrete block beyond the footing over it", answers the same student again.

"The upward soil pressure and the mix of the concrete too", adds a girl to his right.

They both stare at each other like typical competitive students in a class before the lecturer continues, "Very well. I'll start the class now."

She shows us a series of pictures of bricks of various sizes and models, and proceeds to explain them. She tells us about the relation between the bricks and pillars, and where to use which model, so that they cooperate positively.

I try to listen and take notes, but everything is blurry after a while, since I missed the previous classes. I make a mental note to ask those girl student, who previously answered the question,  for her notes.

The class ends after two long hours, and the everyone rushes out behind the teacher.

I make my way towards the above said girl, and say, "Hey, I'm Amaira."

She looks up towards me and says, "Yeah, I know."

"Right...Mr. Roy's class", I say awkwardly.

"And the fiasco happened afterwards", she adds with a sympathetic smile.

"Umm...", I just stand still.

"I am Khushi by the way", she extends her hand towards me.

I shake it whilst giving a smile, and say, "Nice name. I stopped to ask if you could lend me your notes. I missed the previous classes". 

"Yeah, sure thing. Gimme your number, and I'll send them on WhatsApp."

We exchange numbers, and I say, "Thank you, Khushi."

"No problemo, Lazarus."

I give her a quizzical look.

She explains, "Lazarus of Bethany, a man supposedly raised from the dead by Jesus Christ and later revered as a saint by the Christians."

"Oh, so you are like Hermione, from Harry Potter", I laugh.

"My friends do call me that sometimes", she too laughs.

"You headed towards the cafeteria?", I ask.

"Yeah, let's go then", she answers.

We walk towards the cafeteria together.