Ishan

Part 13

Ishan ambled down the college hallway, completely at ease, until he noticed a growing line of students near the admin office. 

He squinted, recognizing some familiar faces—his classmates, a few from other sections... then it hit him. They were all holding the same document, the one he was supposed to bring today. 

The dreaded form. Ishan felt his stomach drop. How could he have forgotten it?

He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, mentally kicking himself. What am I supposed to do now? he thought, his eyes darting around as if the form might magically appear. 

Then he remembered: the tuck shop! It had a printer, so he could get a quick printout, hand in the form, and avoid a lecture.

Ishan practically sprinted to the shop, but as he turned the corner, his heart sank. The shutters were down, a mocking "Closed" sign glaring at him. 

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Just my luck." He glanced back toward the line, watching it grow even longer. Panic set in.

"Okay, think, Ishan", he told himself, brainstorming excuses. 

"Tell them my dog ate it? No, too basic...

maybe 

a goat snatched it on the way to college and ate them?" He cringed at the thought. Lame.

He paced back and forth, muttering ideas under his breath. "Maybe... I dropped it in a puddle? Lost it in a gust of wind? " 

Nothing seemed good enough, and he could almost imagine the unimpressed face of the admin officer.

Ishan was pacing, lost in his thoughts, anxiously muttering to himself as he worked through possible excuses. 

But in his distraction, he turned a corner sharply and—bam! He collided with someone, his own balance teetering. He felt himself tilting backward, bracing for the inevitable painful landing. 

His eyes squeezed shut, too resigned to even let out a scream. But suddenly, a firm grip caught his wrist.

"You okay?" a steady voice asked.

Ishan's eyes fluttered open, surprised he wasn't sprawled on the floor. Instead, he found himself looking straight into the concerned face of Shubman, who still held his wrist. 

Shubman's brows were furrowed in worry, his gaze scanning Ishan to make sure he was fine. Ishan took a deep, grateful breath, realizing he'd narrowly avoided a very undignified fall.

"Thank you, Shubman," he said, offering a sheepish smile. He quickly stood up, finding his footing again.

"Are you hurt?" Shubman asked, his voice gentle but his grip still steady.

"No, I'm fine," Ishan replied, shaking his head with a smile. "Thanks to your long arms—way longer than the law's, apparently!"

Shubman couldn't help but crack a small smile, though he tried to mask it. "Why were you basically running around like a headless chicken?" he asked, trying to sound casual but clearly curious.

Ishan's expression immediately shifted, his lips pursing in a pout as he glared at Shubman. "Who do you think you're calling a chicken?" he shot back, offended but amused.

Shubman sighed in mock defeat. "No one, alright? Just tell me what's going on."

Ishan's mind snapped back to his original problem, his eyes widening as he realized he'd nearly forgotten. "Oh, right!" he exclaimed. "It's my dumb brain cells—"