by Sudha Nair
The school bus driver dragged on his bidi, his legs propped on the gear box, as he waited at the stop. Vidya sat at her usual seat with a book in hand, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose every time they slid down. Laddoo Meera was late. As usual.
The last of his bidi finished, the driver crushed it under his foot, honked three times, and revved up the engine. Laddoo Meera clambered in just in time, her cheeks puffed like the nickname she went by. She plopped down beside Vidya and heaved a big sigh of relief. Finally they were off to school.
Champi Ganesh, his hair reeking of Parachute Coconut Oil, and Silver Murugan, his mouth crowded with silver braces, sat on the adjacent aisle seats. Champi twisted in his seat to acknowledge Laddoo with a sly smile. Laddoo smiled back. Silver elbowed him so hard Champi yelped.
“What?” Champi said, rubbing his hurt arm.
“Look at me. I was talking to you,” said Silver, scowling at him. Champi eyed Laddoo once more before turning back to Silver.
Laddoo and Champi were the latest pair in the eighth grade. Silver secretly wished he had a girlfriend like Champi did. He liked Vidya. But Vidya’s head was buried so deep in books that she never noticed him.
When they reached class, Silver ran ahead to open the door for Vidya, like always. Vidya walked in without acknowledging him. Everyone settled in class. The bell rang and the Math teacher walked in. “Who completed last week’s assignment?” he asked.
Silver’s hand sprouted up first. “I have,” he said. “And so has Vidya.”
“Speak only for yourself,” the teacher reprimanded. The class laughed. Silver sulked for a while.
During snack break Silver walked up to Vidya’s seat. Vidya ducked when she saw him approach, pretending to look for some imaginary thing lost under her bench. “I brought you the notes you missed yesterday,” he said, louder than he’d intended to. Her head shot up and she squinted at him. “What?”
“I brought you yesterday’s notes because you were absent. Why didn’t you come?” he said, softer now.
Just leave me alone. “I had fever and I got the notes already,” she said in a crisp tone, and ducked beneath the bench again. Silver went back to his seat without as little as a smile for his effort.
Back home from school that afternoon, Vidya kicked off her shoes and set her bag on the rack. In her bedroom, she noted a movement across her neighbour’s window. Stepping closer to take a look, she saw a lanky boy in loose jeans with wispy brown long hair that fell below his ears. He was arranging things on his table, his back to Vidya. So she couldn’t see his face. New occupants, she presumed.
Vidya shrugged, drew the curtains, changed out of her uniform, gobbled up a snack and hurried for her tuition. She forgot all about the new neighbours until the next morning. Before leaving for school, she peered through her window. All she saw was dull brown curtains that stared back.
Laddoo didn’t turn up that morning despite the three loud warning honks. But as the bus was about to pull away, Lanky Boy climbed in. Vidya recognised him and wondered if he knew about hair rules at school.
Lanky Boy noticed the empty seat next to Vidya and sat down. First a sudden hush swept through the back seat and soon whispers and giggles broke out. Vidya felt her earlobes burn. Lanky Boy, though, splayed his legs and tapped his feet to the music that was playing through his earplugs, oblivious to the jeers and ripples of laughter from the back.
Much to Vidya’s relief, he didn’t turn up on the afternoon bus. He may have missed the bus or he may have been picked up from school, she presumed. Silver tried to strike a conversation with her on the bus as usual. He even offered her a share of his snack but she refused and ignored him for the most part.
“Do you know we have new neighbours?” Vidya asked her mother at dinner that night, wondering if her mother had met them.
“Yes. Sweet lady! She came to borrow sugar this afternoon. I’ve invited her for the get-together tomorrow.”
The monthly get-together at the apartment was usually boring. But Laddoo’s company and the goodies they served made up for the lack of fun. She called Laddoo to tell her about the new neighbours and the new boy on the bus. “You might see him at the get-together,” she said. But Laddoo was still sick and couldn’t come.
So Vidya was left to herself on a pleasant Saturday afternoon at the club house overlooking the green manicured lawns and an oval swimming pool beyond. She skimmed the throng of people. A crowd hummed around a large table laden with food. Vidya took a plate and helped herself to a slice of cake. Cake helped kill boredom.
Women, men and children sampled the spread, others engaged in banter. Some were out on the lawn, seated on chairs huddled around circular tables draped with white table cloth. Laughter floated in from the outside. With nowhere to sit indoors, an empty old bench out on the pastel green lawn beckoned. Book and plate in hand, she sauntered out of the club house and down a stone-laid path that led to the bench. A cool breeze swept through her hair, cooling her neck as she settled down to eat the cake and read.
A few minutes later she felt sharp stings on her feet and jumped up in alarm. An army of red ants had crawled onto her feet.
“Ah!” she screamed, dropping her book. Her feet looked red and stung with pain. She stomped her feet in agitation, trying to shake the ants off.
A voice that came up behind her said, “Oh! That must hurt a lot.” It was Lanky Boy. He stood there watching her, half-grinning. She gave him a cold stare and returned to more stomping.
Finally rid of the itchy devils, she looked up and noticed his new haircut. For a moment the itching was forgotten. A laugh escaped her without warning.
“What’s so funny?” he said.
“You’ve got horns on your head!”
He patted down his hair in embarrassment. “I didn’t know they had such strict rules about hair at school. The class teacher sent me home with a warning. By the way, I’m Vikram. Ninth grade,” he said, with an air of self-importance.
“Vidya. Eighth grade,” she said. A few tables away, Sulekha aunty, the biggest gossip in the apartment, hovered into view. Vidya felt sure she was being watched. Soon rumours would circulate. Vidya cringed at the thought. “I was just going back inside,” she said in haste, reaching out to get her book and plate.
But he was just warming up. “We recently moved back from the U.S. Still getting used to the new place. Here, let me help with the plate.”
“I can carry my own.” She started to leave.
“See you on the bus,” he called out.
She turned and gave him a frown. “Don’t sit next to me. That’s Laddoo’s…I mean Meera’s seat.”
Vikram cocked his head. “Really? I can sit where I want,” he said, grinning. Not waiting for a reply, he walked away, hands shoved into his pockets.
She stared at the retreating figure with a sigh. Red ants were easier to handle than boys! She made a mental note to ask Laddoo to be on time for the bus.
On Monday, Vikram beat Laddoo to the bus. He hesitated at the empty seat beside Vidya but settled into it anyway. A whistle erupted from the back. Vidya scowled at him. He started to say something with a sheepish smile. But she pursed her lips and looked away.
From the back, giggles and guffaws followed. Vidya’s face turned red. Laddoo came in huffing just as the bus started to pull away. She rolled her eyes at Vidya, cross that her seat was taken. Whattodo, Vidya mimed with a helpless shrug.
Laddoo stalked off to the back in a huff.
The next instant, Silver rose from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed, his face twisted in anger. What he hadn’t noticed were Champi’s long legs, jutting out in front of him. Before he knew it, he tripped on Champi’s shoes, buckled and fell face down at Vikram’s feet.
Vidya gawked at the back of Silver’s head, open-mouthed. Silver got up with difficulty, shrugging off Vikram’s help, and went back to his seat in silence, wheezing and rattled about the fall.
Silver ignored Vidya for the rest of the day. All the better, she thought. “It wasn’t my fault,” she pleaded with Laddoo who was mad at her for not holding her seat. Champi was upset because Laddoo was upset. What an annoying bunch!
That afternoon, a group of girls huddled and giggled as she walked past them to the bathroom. Vidya rolled her eyes.
Then one of them whispered, “Look, there goes Viki-Vee-dia.”
Ugh! Yet another idiotic episode of high school drama, muttered Vidya under her breath. She shook her head, threw her hands up in disgust and walked away.
