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PRETENDING TO be attentive when I'm actually sleepy is not really my kind of thing. My eyes were drooping and I was pathetically shaking my head; as if it would make me feel any less tired. At times I lowered my head to show that I was paying attention and taking down notes. To be honest, I was annoyed at myself for staying up late last night. I had to pay for it now. I had to spend the whole lecture like an idiot. My brain was perfectly numb at that moment. I could just stare at the teacher's lips moving as she explained the history of a musical composition patiently. I didn't even know what we were all discussing. The part of my mind that was still conscious and keeping me awake screamed 'food'.
But the lecture was nowhere near to end. I sighed and sighed. Risking my 'reputation', I put my sluggish head slowly on the desk and closed my eyes. I knew that probably the teacher would have to call me just then. Or worse, someone would just point towards me and let everyone know that Triparna Chakraborty was dozing in the class. The studious facade about me that had been built by some worthless people I call my 'batchmates' could have faded and everyone would have thrown eggs and rotten tomatoes at my face.
The recess bell took me aback. It was the last thing that I had expected to save me from the torture. The students, as ever 'polite' as they were, waited for the teacher to dismiss the class and walk out of the room. Just as she stepped out, chaos erupted from which corner, no one figured out. I lifted my head up and observed with half closed eyes as my classmates busied themselves in relaxation. Clutching the side of the desk, I straightened up, rubbing my eyes, trying my best to not sleep. I pressed my temples in order to subside the headache.
My aim was to lessen the pain, but some unwanted interruption aimed on hurting me, much to my heartache. Over enthusiast and a pain in the arse Ayan Chatterjee appeared from hell knew where.
He sat beside me and exclaimed in a disgustingly high pitched voice, "Tri! What's wrong babe? Are you sick? Are you on your period? Do you need some pads or tampons? You can tell me baby, I'm here for you."
The way I cringed at his questions was indescribable. Although Ayan was rumoured to have a big, fat crush on me, I could have never imagined him having the courage to call me 'babe' at the top of his voice in front of the whole class. I didn't really want to know if he genuinely cared for me because at that moment I didn't give a damn. My head was throbbing due to lack of sleep and momentary anger. I wanted to bash him badly. However, my aching forehead did not help me in this matter.
I was about to turn my head his way when that incorrigible boy was shoved away from the seat by a lean, tall figure. He fell on the ground, groaning.
Standing up, brushing his trousers, Ayan opened his mouth.
"What the-"
Discovering who the person in front of him was, he froze. He blinked uncontrollably for a few seconds and then went away, stealing side glances at me and muttering something under his breath.
The mortal that snatched Ayan's chance to flirt with me was none other than my best friend Maryam Khatun.
I snatched a glance at her poker face and went back to rest my head. With slightly opened eyes, I saw a plastic cup standing on the table. A fork remained clutched between Maryam's fingers as she opened the cup. I tilted my head up once again. It was cup noodles, bought from the school canteen. She passed it to me with the fork jabbed inside the hot ramen.
I looked at it for a few seconds before meeting my eyes with her. Her dark pupils were watching me intently, as if seeing through me. I waited for her to say something. Probably reading my mind she sighed, in a manner that said 'go on, speak your mind out'.
"How did you know I was hungry?" I blurted out.
Her lips tilted upwards a little. "The noodles are getting cold."
Such an answer is always expected from Maryam Khatun. She always avoids the obvious questions after showing affection. She either feels awkward or doesn't care to respond to them.
I sighed and stirred the noodles. Both of us indulged in a comfortable silence. That's what I love about us. We don't need to converse very much to keep our friendship stable.
"Did you shower?" she queried in a low voice.
"Forgot." I grumbled.
"Same."
The hot noodles helped the sickening sensation in my head to grow mild. We low-fived under the table (due to the fact that we had both forgotten to shower). Maryam chewed on a strawberry flavoured gum. She sighed again, drawing my eyes on her portrait. Her face looked more photogenic with her pixie cut, chiseled nose, long lashes. It was one of those rare times when I appreciated her beauty.
Maryam is beautiful, no doubt. With dark eyes and a wheatish complexion, she is the 'pretty girl'. But that is not something that she likes to be complimented on. She always places brains above beauty. I usually praise her intelligence. Today was different. Maybe because she read my mind and brought me food, I realised that it had really been a while since I 'looked' at her.
I was inwardly appreciating her features when she decided to break the silence.
"Didn't find anything new I guess?" she asked.
I blinked in confusion.
"What?"
Maryam faced me, brutally chewing the gum. "Why try to be a night owl when you're an early bird?"
I looked away, slurping the noodles inaudibly. "You know I like trying Mar."
"Sure you do."
"What are you pointing at?"
"Nothing."
I huffed, "Come on Mar!"
She rolled her eyes, letting out a bitter laugh. "You're clever enough to know I'm pointing at something. Yet you can't figure out what it is."
"I really cannot." I asserted, although I could.
Maryam folded her arms and stared at me closely. She observed me for some pretty good seconds. Then, squeezed my cheeks with her palms.
"You know you're cute right?" she mumbled. "I love you, I really do. And I truly want to help you. I want to- screw it. I have to know about her, just like you do. I care about her, just like you do. And I care about you, just like always."
I waited for her to say something more. Then she did the unexpected and the most detestable deed. Her straight face turned into a cute one, with puppy eyes and tilted lips. "Pretty please, mon bébé!"
"Maryam, don't do this." I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. Albeit, her expression did not falter. She made it much worse for me. If I had any belief in God, I could have prayed to him to stop her.
Maryam pleaded, "Bébé!" It was not pathetic. It was irresistibly sweet. I hesitated. That was an unusually cute emotional blackmail. To embarrass me even more, she knelt down and made teary eyes. Inquisitive eyes turned towards us. Some bone heads even whistled, thinking that Mar was about to propose. Some just stared. And some scoffed, turning their heads back, getting back into their work. In spite of all these awkward stares, Mar knelt on the ground with the same expression plastered on her face.
I finally surrendered, "Urgh, Mar! Okay, it's fine, get up. I agree."
Her feigned teary eyes were replaced by a grateful smile. She got up, planted a quick peck on my left cheek and whispered, "We're in this together."
Once the recess and the cup noodles were over, I noticed that I did not feel as heavy-eyed as before.
