Chapter 40

Only once for them. Every time for me.

Ash

18h December 2018, Tuesday
15:30

I stared at Mehak's retreating figure and curled the paper in my hand. Sixty marks and she was worrying. I scoffed. I was what? Thirty marks behind? They'd be covered quickly, as fast as they had fallen. It was not my fault that they fell. I tried to maintain my grades but things were not just working at the moment. Mehak did not get it. No worries. No one would get it unless they were in my position.

I pulled my chair and sat down. Just fifteen minutes more and then I could escape. Tomorrow I'd tell my teacher I was not doing anymore Stay Backs. A gust of wind blew outside and I pulled my blazer closer. I hated winters and how everyone looked like snowmen in winters. The window rattled and I glanced outside. I could make out Mehak standing at the school gates with a frown possibly. Another dejected person. I was such a disappointment.

I remembered Rishab spat those words at me when he saw the magazine this morning.

"So you won," he had said after slamming the magazine on the table.

I had managed to grab the open bottle of paint before it could fall on his shoes and destroy his clothes. For someone who should be thanking me if not praising my success, he had a huge frown plastered on his face.

"Careful," I had said. "I couldn't possibly ask you to draw this again for me."

"You can ask Shay. Or wait, don't ask, just copy. I'm sure you're an expert at that."

I had smiled at him and turned back to my canvas. "Keep on dreaming."

"Keep on lying."

"I do not understand what Sameer sees in you." My hands had searched for the eraser but found none.

Rishab had showed it to me and shook his head. "He saw exactly what you saw. I just did not see anything in you."

"Then, you need to get a pair of glasses."

"Glasses won't work, Ash. They simply don't. Kiara is still blind to your lies."

After he'd left, I kept on telling myself the entire day that the man was full of bluffs and lies. It was him who lied all this time, not me. My fingers lifted to touch my face and I caught myself staring into my reflection in the transparent glass of the almirah. I was all right. I was Ashiamma Apte. I nodded to myself. I was a good person to hang out with.

"Hey."

My eyes lifted and met Hardik's through the glass. I turned and smiled. He smiled back, walking in.

"Vee is not here," I said.

"I know. Can't I come to meet you?"

My heartbeat picked up, not for the usual reasons. But then again, whatever happened to me now had become usual. Rather, his smile did not seem sweet anymore. I heard him pull a chair and sit next to me. I did not dare to look up, knowing his eyes were the same colour of Rishab's. Lunatics have to be made pretty, I reminded myself, or else they'll cease to impress others. I was sure Sameer just liked his eyes, his tall height or maybe even his hair, those brown voluminous...stop! Stop! The guy I like is right next to me.

"I knew she was wrong," Hardik murmured.

"Wrong? Who? Mehak?"

He nodded. "She told me about those grades. I told her not to worry." He leaned back and stared at me. I tried not to push my chair away. "You're worried about something."

I smiled and shook my head.

"No, there is something," he insisted.

'Yes, I don't find you attractive anymore, not on the older way, in that new, exciting way that made me forget Rishab. You gave me the rush but I want the sweet silence now. You're not that. Even Rishab is not that.'

"Ash?"

"There's nothing," I said and brushed my nose. "I'm just thinking of Mehak. She's disappointed, isn't she?" Honestly, I could care less. She had to understand I was trying. Kiara understood. She could too.

"Are you sure?" Hardik asked.

I looked away from him, from his face that I'd been seeing since four months now. Four months. That made me laugh but I stifled it. Sunrays lit up the road and made way through the fog that wasn't dense yet. I was not sure but I thought I saw a blazer with the logo of our school.

"When will you go?"

I turned my attention back to Hardik. "Around four thirty."

"As-"

"Can I ask you something?" I completely turned in my chair so I was facing him. "Suppose, you're a very good cricket player. Vicky comes and supports you, just support. He helps you choose your equippments and other things, things other than playing. Then, one day, you find that he's thinking of playing and has been practicing but he never told you. What will you do?"

"I don't play cricket and I'm sure neither does he. But, if that was the case." He played with his collar and I rubbed my arm, waiting. "I think I'll be fine. It's no big deal."

"What if he played against you?"

He laughed. "I'd like that. I'd love that. I can possibly imagine one of us hitting the other and forgetting the match to apologize and help."

Yes, but I could not hurt Shay with a painting. She, on the other hand, had other ways of hurting.

"I saw this painting and really liked it. I took it as an inspiration for mine. Does that make me bad?" I asked.

"You gave the artist the credit. What's the problem then?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "But you didn't do that, did you?"

"It was just an inspiration," I pointed.

"That is why you need to mention whoever owned it, because he or she inspired me."

I grunted and sank into my chair. It did not matter now. All this happened in April and she chose my birthday to tell me. Surely, she deserved to sulk in a corner. Mehak could sympathize if she wanted, I did not care. Period.

The vibration of Hardik's phone echoed through the room and I gave him a pointed look. "You guys don't understand school rules."

He shrugged and pulled out his phone. I glanced at the screen. "Who is it?"

He gave me a startled look.

"Is she still complaining about me?" I said when Mehak's name flashed again.

"She is not saying anything wrong," he said. "But, you're right at your place."

Guilt clouded my mind, guilt that said I was wasting both of our time. "Why did you agree to this? I mean, what do you see in me?" I asked and gestured between us. Because all I saw in you were same eyes. Distraction, perhaps.

His thumb stopped over his keyboard and he glanced at me. His eyes flicked to the papers lying on the table and a smile found its way on his lips. "You're messy, very messy. And opinionated. Your eyes turn to slits when someone says something offensive. You're a passive person but that doesn't mean the other person won the argument, no. You sit back and listen. Then, a shake of head dismisses their words. You're just-" He rubbed his ear and stared at his phone's black screen. "I don't know what exactly it is but it's just good to have you around. Do you know there's always an adorable scowl playing on your lips when you stare at the–"

"At the?"

"The paintings. Your arguments with Vicky are just the free stuff that comes with you. Also, you're a good artist." His tone suddenly changed, sounding robotic.

I scoffed. I was a good artist. He should go and tell that to a certain someone who failed to consider other people as people.

"Your mother," he said. I peeked outside and saw her standing outside the school on her scooter. "It's too cold for a scooter."

I shrugged, getting up. "It's too cold for a bike and driving without a helmet."

He grimaced and got up as well. "See you tomorrow."

I paused, the magazine that Rishab had slammed earlier catching my eye and I nodded. Adjusting the straps of my bag around my shoulder, I walked towards the door, following him out. I tried not to look, for I knew I'd only compare. But it was wrong. Comparing black with white was wrong.

23:00

I shut the door and pulled the blanket aside, ready to climb in the bed. My feet stopped when I saw the small transparent bottle lying on my dressing table. I blinked at the red cap. Surely people were delusional. There always was a solution to all problems.

"This is their way out." The nurse's words played in my head. I blamed Miss Chopra for this, for leaving me alone.

Ignoring the bottle, I slipped into the bedsheets.

"They go in a completely different state of mind, thinking that is the reality. It is an escape."

I shut my eyes.

"They dream of a place they never found here. It's terrible to think you're drifting in heaven when it's only the pain pushing you around."

Definitely crazy minds. You had to be weak -hearted if you failed to deal with your problems. None of this was a way out. Sleep came over easily as I lectured myself to sleep. It was all bluff. All of it.

31 December 2018, Monday
19:25

I was such a party pooper, sitting here in a corner, slouching over an empty table as I avoided staring at the others. Mehak placed her glass on the table, next to my elbow. As soon as her mouth opened, I turned to the other side. I did not want to come. Surprising, isn't it? But I didn't, not after witnessing Papa's frown over my report card that had not got any better. He said nothing, no complaints or questions, just a hum. They were letting me dwell in my sorrow.

I laughed. It wasn't such a big deal. I had simply been told that I did not put my best in the work and so someone else was replacing me at the competition. Fine by me. She was not Shay, plus she would not win. She was a nobody whose strokes ran across the sheet haphazardly.

"Hardik's coming here," Mehak mumbled.

I looked up and watched him stop at my expression. Maybe I should tell him the truth but that wouldn't be fair to his feelings. I suppressed a groan and decided to not unleash my shit on him. For once, I could think about anyone other than me.

"Those were some nice moves," I said and pointed at the dance floor where currently Vicky was pulling Kiara to the centre. He would not succeed. I knew that girl. She won't move an inch.

"Would you like to join us?" he said, staring at Mehak and I.

I waved my hand. "Don't bother yourself by wasting time on me. I'm fine here." I nudged Mehak. "Why don't you go?"

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head, muttering a weak no.

We stopped arguing over my grades because she thought it was none of her business. I had hoped she'd push me a little further, taunt me, so that I'd, out of spite, try to score well. Maybe, then I would not have spent a lot of time in my room, comprehending the pursed lips of my teacher.

"Oh, come on." I pushed her out of the chair and she staggered, losing her balance a little but Hardik reached for her.

"Now go on," I said. She opened her mouth but I thrusted the glass in her hand and pointed at Vicky. "Go join those two."

She gave me a wary glance, then reluctantly turned to Hardik. I averted my gaze to ignore his.

There was barely any light in the room, yet the brightness was giving me a headache. The only lights were above the central dance floor and turned to a red, then blue, a green, yellow, purple, and white. I flinched. The white was too bright for my eyes. When it turned back to red, I only saw the marks scribbled over my report card. It was New Year's Eve. I was supposed to be enjoying. The irony was I brought this upon me. Lying in a boat, I complained about the water flow when I forgot to bring the oars.

"It was just a painting, just one disappointed no," I reminded myself. "One competition does not matter."

But I knew it did. It mattered because I could feel it quaking in my fingers that worked diligently. It retaliated because Rishab was wrong. Even if the idea was Shay's, I put it on paper to make it win. My phone rang. With shivering fingers, I picked it up.

"Hello? Is this Ashiamma Apte?" A female voice asked.

"Yes. Who is this?" I asked.

"We're calling you to talk about your letter we received just yesterday. I'm sorry for the delay. You wrote it back in November. Do you remember the Inter-"

She did not need to remind me. "Yes, yes I do." I got up and walked out of the door, stopping at the staircase as I imagined Shay standing here and telling me she wanted to enter into the competition. I could feel the gift she had given, pressed in my hands. I had wanted to throw it away. It was in my room right now.

"You said there was your friend who helped you."

"Yes," I answered and headed for the washroom, my head heavy with the noise and Shay's voice. "Could you do something? Like, acknowledge her?"

"That's possible but not right now. You see, we're preoccupied with the arrangements for the upcoming competition. In May, when the 2019 Inter State Art Festival is held, we can do it then. But she would have to be there, your friend."

"I can manage that. She will come but you'll acknowledge her, right?"

"You state her as an inspiration but due to your personal conflicts, this wasn't brought to light before. We'll state the former parts unless she was more than just an inspiration."

I slid against the wall and sat down on the floor. "It was her idea."

"Okay, we'll contact you again in April, around 15th. If I don't call you again, please call me as a reminder."

I exchanged pleasantry and I cut the call. My chest rose and fell rapidly and invisible hands tightened around my throat. I coughed a few times and tried to stand up again. These heels were a curse, a witch in disguise.

A bottle rolled out of my pocket. I picked it up and stared hard at it. The lid popped open and my fingers fished out the two of those. I got up and turned on the tap, taking some water in my mouth and swallowed the meds.

The door opened and I met Kiara's gaze. She turned back and said, "She's here." Vicky's head popped in.

I laughed. "Your eyebrow is not raised. You look funny like this," I said to him.

They both exchanged looks. "Hardik said you looked pale."

Vicky walked in, clearly ignoring the fact that he was walking in a female washroom. Or maybe, he was assured that being the son of the owner, this one was reserved only for those who he invited.

The air suddenly felt thick and I thought of leaving. But I did not want to. I stared at my reflection and splashed some water on my face. "I failed three Revision Tests, three. It means I only managed to clear the other two, one of them on the basis of my paintings; which reminds me, I won't be participating because I'm not putting in efforts." I met their gazes. "I flunked."

Kiara looked away and Vicky walked up to me. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I already knew," she said.

I waved at her comment. I knew she knew. Samaritans were the cameras of the school. But Vicky's words made me tense.

"It does," I said, "not because they should've chosen me only, because I've always been there but because I'm disappointing everyone. There are flunked grades, tarnished efforts. What's more? I don't think I know anything at the moment. I have zero orientation of time and people. I hate human civilization at the moment." Except for these two. They weren't humans, anyway. They were crazy lunatics bearing my sick soul.

The bottle fell out of my hand and Kiara frowned. "Homeopathy?"

Vicky picked it up and I winced.

"CPM," he read out loud.

"You're sick?" Kiara asked.

I pursed my lips.

"Let's get you home," Vicky said.

"I need to use the washroom."

He gave me a long stare and stiff nod, before going out, followed by Kiara. Once they were gone, I picked up the bottle.

Just one time, and I had used that one time. I'd throw it myself so that I knew where the lines were drawn. That way, I'd never cross them. Never.

*****

CPM is a medicine mostly used in case of allergic reactions.