I am back to the comforts of my haven once the classes are over. Library is one place that never disappoints you. If you're anxious and a bundle of nerves, Ruskin Bond's books nurture you to happiness and calm. If you need a dose of adventure, J.R.R. Tolkien's epic landscapes will sweep you to fantastic lands. If you're feeling too complacent, Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning is the perfect antidote.

Right now, I am feeling anxious because the mid-term exams were announced this morning and I haven't gotten around doing my first set of revisions due to my preoccupations. I browse reference books for Business Finance and Marketing, my weakest subject, and move to return my previously borrowed books to Mrs Aparna Thomas, who is our librarian; a surly-looking woman who is surprisingly pleasant. With four business management books from different authors in my arms, I proceed to Accountancy and grab two dictionary-thick reference books. I add a couple of books of SQL and Python to the pile. And now my arms are full of books, my face almost hidden behind them.

I find a desk in the corner and start taking notes.

When I am studying, I tend to lose track of time and space, but today is different. The ripples in the air around me make me look up from the morass of stationery and pages on my desk. On the desk diagonally opposite to mine, Romil is shooing his friends away, and I realize that it is his friends' collective stare in my direction that disturbed the air at the corner of my eyes in the first place.

I stare back at them, a pencil suspended between my fingers. When they are out of the doors, I get back to scribbling notes, my focus unwavering as the clouds of hopelessness that I used to feel above me since entering twelfth grade have now cleared a little after I was endowed with the prize money from the commerce fest. Mai might not be a brand anytime soon, but the money could at least secure me a spot at a government college.

Once again, something shifts just beyond the corner of my eye and I notice Romil stacking his arms with a much larger pile of books before slamming them on the table. It's official — exam-mode Romil has arrived.

There's a quality that Romil, even in twelfth grade, has retained since at least ninth grade: a kind of boyish competitiveness that overtakes his usual oh-so-cool and I-don't-give-a-fugg attitude whenever exams draw near. It's as though he suddenly forgets that he's supposed to be the most popular guy, with or without the top-scorer badge he's maintained for years.

My assessment of Romil is that his genius likely can't stand the idea of someone else taking his prized titles. This triggers a Pavlovian response, pushing him into a familiar, automatic recipe for success that he's relied on for years.

I shake my head and get back to reading and taking notes. After revising the theoretical subjects, I pick up Accountancy and start solving problems. I am punching buttons on the calculator when I hear a rustle and I glance up. Romil's jaw is clenched in concentration, his eyes intense and his nose as close to the paper as one possibly can without going cross-eyed. I note that he has the same book open as mine, and by the chart on the page, he's probably working on the same problem as me. My mouth hangs slightly open, incredulous at the scene unfolding.

He's obsessed. I am still watching when he looks up at me, smirking, ostensibly pleased with his work. He's solved the problem, before me. What a feat!

I study until the clock chimes four and begin to exit the library with a handful of books to borrow. A week's worth of reading. I look back and Romil still has his nose deep into the book. I wonder what he is reading so intensely.

I stroll up to the only person left in the library and ask, 'You've got your keys, haven't you?'

He looks up, frowning at the interruption, 'Yes.'

'Okay.' I dither. 'Just to let you know, it's four already!'

'I can see that,' he smiles but I can tell that he's waiting for me to leave.

I shrug and leave.

This continues for more than two weeks and I let Romil be whenever he decides to overstay. He is responsible enough. At last, the dreaded time of the year comes. The exams. The mid-term marks are somewhat going to be considered for the internal assessment, which makes it an even bigger deal. Thankfully, we are relieved from school duties and miscellaneous responsibilities a week before the exams to focus on the mid-terms.

It starts with Mathematics and ends with Economics. I am pretty happy with what I've done in the exams. As per my evaluation, other than Business Management, I've scored nearly perfect marks, which validates my efforts and gives me some confidence.

In the weekend that follows the exam, I make a point to go to open a separate account in a bank and deposit the cheque for one lakh rupees for my college tuition. As a reward to myself, I spend some money I saved from selling the jackets and jumpers earlier on getting a tan leather strap for my watch. I also get the old one fixed with the watchmaker.

The results arrive on the school's website. Everyone takes out their phones to check the list. I wait with bated breath as Sakshi scrolls and zooms in to see her rank amongst the twenties. She always goes somewhere around there. And yes, Sakshi Maheshwari is at number 17 with 537/600. Gargi is two places ahead of Sakshi, at 15 with the staggering 542/600. Both are extremely ecstatic with their marks.

I wait as she then scrolls down to see the top two.

At number two is Romil Jain with 588/600.

At number one is Maithili Sharda with 591/600.

The top three names are shining red. Maithili, Romil and Vaishali with 576/600.

'You're first!' Sakshi has her eyes glued to the screen, seemingly unable to believe. 'You beat Romil?' Her mouth hangs open as she asks me this.

'How d'you beat Romil?' Gargi inquires, equally flabbergasted.

I can't believe it either. From as long as I can remember, Romil has never come second. It became a huge deal with the students when I tied with him last year in eleventh grade. They milled around me like bees, curious to ask me how.

'I don't know. I did what I do,' I say, reeling with the sudden sensory overload.

I blink and look ahead at the students turning over to look at me. Vaishali frowns as she congratulates me. I smile tersely and say a tight-lipped thanks. She never tried to euphemize her aversion to me taking her place.

I'm first. The words light me up inside like a spark catching in dry tinder, spreading fast, all heat and nerves. It doesn't feel real. The past few years blur together in a fever dream—that one summer break spent hunched over textbooks, chasing the one shot I had at making something more out of my life. All of it leading to this moment. I remember the day it all started: one of my teachers from the government school I used to study in showing up at my house, an unexpected knock on the door, introducing me to this scholarship programme hosted by RSVP. I was stunned, almost too stunned to hope. Because deep down, I always knew I was meant for something bigger, something shinier, but coming from a place that I do, RSVP didn't just shine, it gleamed like a beacon. RSVP was more than a dream—it was something I wouldn't have even dared to dream. But that? That was my chance to step into that world, to live inside it.

And today, I'm not just a spectator in this wild, vibrant world; I'm excelling and revelling in it.

My chest blooms and without realizing a shy smile spreads across my face. I've been completely zoned out because I don't notice when Arjun drags a chair to my table and sits down in front of me. Blinking, I suddenly realize he's there, elbows propped on my table, his chin resting on his hands, watching me with a keen sort of expression.

'Oh, hi!' I exclaim, not knowing what else to do.

His mouth breaks into a grin as he replies with, 'Look at you, miss topper. Dreaming of conquering the world with your intelligence.'

'You shut up, Arjun. Our girl is too humble for that. We are the one zoning out thinking where should we host the celebration party?' Gargi articulates with her dramatic eyes.

'I don't think we should party. It's just half-yearlies. No big deal!' I say, my nerves flailing.

'You beat Romil Jain, Ms Maithili Sharda,' Sakshi enunciates each word in a staccato. 'How can you deprive us—Oh, the look on his face!'

We all follow Sakshi's line of vision. Romil is leaving the class, his bag hanging limply on his shoulder by a single strap. We fail to notice the said look on his face but the way Sakshi's excited expressions morphed into a certain kind of discomfort makes it apparent that however he looked, it wasn't good.

'He's taken it badly.' Arjun gives us a 'what-can-we-do' look.

'It's just three-marks gap.' I say feeling the drift in my gut.

'Four to surpass you,' Arjun corrects, shaking his head.

'He is thick,' Gargi comments.

'Hundred percent,' Arjun agrees.

I glance at Sakshi again, hoping to gauge her thoughts, but her face has soured into something tight and uncomfortable. And just like that, the victory feels a little less sweet.