Chapter 8

Trophies always obsess over knives.

Ash

20th April 2018, Friday
13:50

Strokes were an absurd code maneuvering through the watcher's eyes and showing the expected in the most unexpected way. They did not just show me but they lived around me. Some were hard to read, like what I drew, others spoke for themselves. For example, Kiara was a single stroke drawn with neatness. She was just one colour that was not thought about, simply thrown around. I loved that. I loved her.

She smiled at me despite the glare Mr. Head Boy gave her. I pointed at the grumpy face and she stepped back into her position. I never understood her purpose of getting into the Samaritans if it was this hard.

"...Ashiamma Apte," Vicky said.

Taking in a deep breath, I climbed up the stage. Vicky gave me his mic and whispered, "good luck".

Good luck. I rolled my eyes. For what exactly was this 'good luck' meant? This was my school and I had addressed it a hundred times. Simply because I always won.

"Good Morning to all," I said.

I had been reading speeches from the paper all my life until last year when Vicky started helping with the club. Oh boy, he helped just fine. In the beginning, I had been in awe. Somehow he looked at these frowning creatures and managed to create an aura, giving speeches like it was nobody's business, making it everyone's business. The teachers were downright foolish to miss his magic.

He would read the speeches Kiara wrote, learn in a day and the next day while I still had not practiced, he would know all lines by heart. Yet, at times he fumbled on a word or two and then began dictating his dictionary of swear words. Now, when he was called to participate in other events, I felt proud. It was me who saw it in him. I put the coals to work.

"I could not thank you all for showing such support to me. Growing up as an artist is, in its own way, a great achievement. Watching you all actually promote my work and take interest in the exhibitions is mind blowing," I said.

Vee cleared his throat. I gave him a sideways glance. He was raising his eyebrow at the Principal.

"I would like to thank the school faculty and our wonderful Principal who showed enthusiasm in my ideas. If it wasn't for Madam Principal's insightful leadership skills, Dandelion Presidency could never have won the competition. This trophy that I hold may be in my hands but it is made out of your support." I skipped through the lines because, honestly, why give credits to those who simply had no right? "Thank you all. Thank you very much. Keep the spirits high."

Everyone clapped. Few hooted but got shut down by the teachers. I turned off the mic and sighed.

"Did I do fine?" I asked Vicky.

He grinned. "Fantastic."

"I think I should've named a few people. But by the looks of everything, no one would've enjoyed it."

He shrugged. "The students were asked to assemble half an hour before dispersal. And now, they're being rushed out. I think if anyone minds it is the staff."

I turned to look at teachers literally walking their way through the students, not caring if they were in line or not. You could not blame them. They had an extra late shift today.

"Congratulations!"

I smiled at Kiara. "Do not smile at me when you're on duty. I don't want the head boy on my tail."

Kiara shook her head. "I'd keep that in mind, Miss All Arounder."

My chest inflated with pride, the folds that had been crushed and walked upon by people years ago, radiated the talent they turned a blind eye to.

I said, "Thank you."

"Where's Shay?" Vicky asked.

"She didn't come today," Kiara replied.

I bit my tongue and cleared my throat. "Vicky, could you take the trophy to reception?"

He tore his gaze from the balcony of the auditorium and nodded as his hands grasped the metal.

We could not keep anything except the medals. All trophies, shields and awards bigger than an inch or two were submitted to the school for display at the reception. Still, a look over their Awards Sections clearly told the prizes on display were four years old if not more.

"So?" I said to my best friend who was still staring at Vicky's disappearing figure.

Vicky, in turn, stared into the crowd. Still. Still, he didn't stop. Still, the stupid things mattered more than truth. Truth. Who was I to talk about that? I lowered my head, the phrase 'light-headed' suddenly coming alive with an entirely different meaning.

"You cut short the speech," Kiara said, turning back to me.

You cut her off. No, I did not. She did it.

"No, I did not. You wrote too long."

She snickered. "Of course."

I pointed at the sash that hung around her body. "Aren't you supposed to give that back?"

She shrugged. "I'd do it once we leave. There's no hurry."

I gave that red piece of cloth a thorough look. "Are you sure? I don't think PT teachers will like that."

"They can eat it after getting it back for all I care. Till then, it belongs to me."

I let out a low chuckle. "For a Samaritan, you can be a downright insult to the title."

"People elected me."

I shook my head. "The teachers did. We, students, never voted for you." No intention to hurt her ego but it was true. We all knew just how much the votes counted.

"We're getting late. If you're being mean, bye."

I laughed and followed her. "Do you remember we're staying back?"

I heard her grunt. "Of course. There's that extra test I got to give. I'm not taking any additionals from next month. Why are you staying back, anyway? You brought the school an award. You should sit back and enjoy your day."

I shrugged. "I've got some paintings to do."

Kiara muttered something with a twisted look on her face. I was about to ask her if she could repeat when I saw Nolan standing in front of his class.

"I'll see you around. Don't forget about me while you're lost in painting," Kiara said, oblivious to the guy.

These two were so much into each other but did they dare talk even once? No. I didn't understand the whole point of Kiara rambling about him or Nolan catching her stare if they never tried to talk, let alone give it a short.

"I was away the entire day," I said. Vicky and I had gone to the other school for the competition and I had not got the time to catch up with her, more like them.

"I know that," she replied, as if she did not get any hint.

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me what happened. You never shut up on usual days about how your day went, this or that. Nothing happened today?"

She shook her head.

I narrowed my eyes.

"I swear," she said.

I looked at Nolan. He was still hanging outside his class, talking to his friend. I turned back to her. "Liar."

She followed my gaze. Her mouth opened and she gave me a sheepish look.

"Did you notice he was not there in the auditorium?" she asked.

"If you did not see me, I was preoccupied with other stuff. But I take it you know why he was not there."

"I threw water on him," she blurted.

I raised an eyebrow. That explained why he constantly kept pacing around the corridors. Nobody liked this summer Sun, especially not a British boy who was drenched in sweat. My eyes widened. It was not sweat.

"You drenched him from head to toe?"

She took a step closer. "Stop shouting."

"I am not shouting. Anyway, explain."

"Well, we were near the taps and I was just standing there when his classmate tried to throw water on him. It fell on me because he was standing right in front of me and I became angry-"

"You're not even wet." I eyed her.

"Yes, because he threw only a few drops. I threw an entire glass of water."

"Instead of throwing it on a douche, you threw it on Nolan."

Her face said it was not funny.

I laughed so hard, snorting at her situation.

She mumbled something and turned to leave.

"Bye," I called out.

Nolan turned at my voice and their eyes met. She muttered under her breath and took a left instead of right, taking the long route to the library.

I began walking towards my haven when my phone vibrated. A few students turned to look at me but I kept walking, pretending I just did not bring my phone to school. The saddest part of today's Stay Back was Vicky was not doing it. His father was home and he wanted to show him how good of an artist he was. I smirked. He didn't do any real work. The dirt was on my hands. Presentation was his part while I stood behind. Staying back was not bad as long as it remained so only during the competition.

I opened the door to the Art Room and my gaze fell on the incomplete portrait, the idea that belonged to Shay. I snorted and put it aside. Vicky could complete it, or someone else. I wasn't even touching that thing.

When I first met Shay, my dear Sheereen, I was skeptical of the nice girl. Guess you let your guard down pretty quickly.

Everyone was nice here, just not nice enough of help. Even Kiara was not a great partner to work with. Nothing was wrong with her. She was just...in demand, a lot in demand. It was frustrating. I was a topper, sure but she was a topper who teachers loved. Sometimes, I was thankful she was my junior. Half of the time she was not allowed to miss classes, the other half time when she could leave the classes, the Samaritans wanted her. And Shay came at the right time. Once the Club's popularity kicked in, she was the next Vicky who helped the right way. The best part of it was I got a friend out of it. Her ideas for poses were fantastic, although a little border pushing.

What borders? The one you merged? I pushed my thoughts aside.

I began with my work, doing the finishing on the prior paintings. I sorted those which were to be framed and which looked brilliant on their own. After fifteen minutes, the school was dead silent except the library and staff room.

I looked outside the window and up the sky where I was hoping the clouds would gather for a downpour, or perhaps some lightning too. The other day, I found out some colours were simply immortal. I found out the difference between immortality and invincibility. Immortals lived through invincible creations and criminals. I walked away from the window, the sunlight a constant reminder of how stupid people were to not see the difference.

How stupid Shay was, couldn't even keep a damn friendship. I had told her I'd think, that meant I needed time. She had to come on my birthday and bring the stupid issue of that stupid competition again.

"You want to participate," I said, "then, where is your idea?"

Idea. I didn't mean the design but the innovation, the strokes, the beauty. Where was it? Nowhere, clear by the fact that she didn't bother to show up today.

My phone vibrated again. I slammed it on the table.

You're worth the worlds.

"Hello," I said, picking up Rishab's call.

"Your enthusiasm is infecting me," he joked.

I grunted. "I'm tired."

I heard him whisper something in the background. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." I said just as he said, "Congratulations, anyway."

"You heard?" I asked.

"Of course I did. People are constantly messaging me just to tell how awesome my girlfriend is. I am like - Uh, sure. I know that, dude."

I'd lie if I said I did not just blush at that. "That's a very good way of saying you're thankful to be my boyfriend," I replied.

He did not reply. I waited. I could hear faint breathing but nothing else.

"Ash," he said and I right away knew that tone, the one full of diplomacy and sweetness that was supposed to heal the wound of rejection during a competition.

"I need to tell you something," he said.

"Go ahead." I knew it, knew that tone.

"Do you know that you're one of the best artists I've ever known, one of the sweetest people to consider me worthy of anything?"

You're worth an entire world.

But it only exists in pictures you draw.