With Mangoes And Chocolates | ✓

5. Mango shake.

My frantic efforts to complete the History work on time was going nowhere. I still had two more pages left to write, and Bhavuk Thakur aka the favorite of every teacher was collecting the notebooks. He was very close to my place. 

I turned to Yuvika, sitting beside me. Usually it's Ishita, but today she wished to sit with some other friend of hers. I hated the person she made me sit with. "You done?"
"Last night," she leaned over her arm.

I scowled.  I should've done it last night too, but honestly, I was drained after the silly arguments I had with my mother.

"He's nearing," Yuvika pulled me out of my thoughts. She had this weird coy smile on her face.
"Yeah, like an infection." I blurted out.
"He's very sweet. He might spare you."

I flipped my braided hair. She was right. Not me, but if she requests him, he actually might.

"Yuvika?" He called out softly. "Notebook."
She replied in a voice that made me want to throw up from my ears. I have nothing against her, or her whatever relation with Bhavuk, but I have zero tolerance towards fake people. They both were so.

He was grinning on some lame joke before paying me his undivided attention. "Mehta? Notebook."
"I won't."
"You sure?"

"Don't write her name, Bhavuk," Yuvika said, "she's a very friendly girl."
"Friendly, yes, indeed." He remarked. "She should apologize, at least."
I snickered. "I'd rather eat paper."

"Of course," he tsked. "I hope you enjoy the scolding."
"Thanks for the wishes."

🧩

~ Bhavuk ~

Loud announcements and music tore through my ear drum. Despite the windows being shut, it was annoying everyone in the room. 
"It's okay, guys," I cheered up, being the great persona I was.

"I haven't been able to frame a sentence," Tushar complained. 
"Take a chill pill, man. Look at Ritika. She's sleeping, for heaven's sake."

There were four of us in the classroom. The Expressions was going on for the last two days in the school. Today was third, and we had our writing competition.

Tushar and Ritika were obedient juniors, they followed whatever I told them. But Mehta; God, her tantrums traumatized me. We bickered and argued a lot during this whole month. She's very irritating, honestly. She wouldn't do this, she wouldn't do that. I just had to hold on to her because her writing was out of this world.

Okay, not out of this world, but satisfactory. 

She was sitting in a corner, a thick dictionary opened in front of her. The way she was revising, it almost made me believe that it was possible to learn a whole dictionary. 

I was exhausted after the debate I had finished half an hour ago. My head spun after speaking and thinking so much. I slumped down on some random bench and shut my eyes.

Habitually, my thoughts went back to whatever shit I said on stage. Hundreds of possibilities bubble up in my mind which could've been better. I could've been better. 

Someone shook me. My  eyes unwillingly opened to see Manasvi in front of me. She appeared confused and uncertain. Her tie was loosened and hairs were falling all over her face. That usually happened when she's very focused on something and forgets that she lives in twenty first century, on Earth.

"Don't fuck with me, Mehta. Go away."
"Try cursing a little less," she sighed, softly putting the dictionary in front of me. "I think you should prepare. I am not. . good at this. I might. . ."