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It was 8:45 AM, and Afrah dashed out of her house, the cool morning air ruffling her hair as she grabbed her trusty backpack. Anxiety twisted in her stomach as she reached the bus stop, glancing around for any sign of Viola. The mere thought of crossing paths with her could send shivers down Afrah’s spine.

As the bus pulled up, she hopped on and slid into a seat by the window, her heart racing. She gazed at the bustling streets, each familiar landmark offering a momentary escape from her worries. Afrah's thoughts bubbled with determination. She was on a mission—the PSH needed a scriptwriter, and she was determined to find one, no matter the obstacles in her path.

Her mind wandered to the future of PSH, a vibrant hub where creativity flourished. She envisioned it thriving, selling sublime scripts that could captivate movie directors and audiences alike. The vision ignited a spark within her, and despite her fear of Viola, Afrah allowed herself to dream big.

Fatigue crept in, and as the bus rumbled along, the rhythm of the wheels soon lulled her to sleep. Images of characters and stories swirled in her mind, blending dreams with reality. Little did she know that the day ahead would bring unexpected challenges and potentially thrilling developments that could change everything for PSH.

As Afrah raced toward the school, her heart pounded in her chest. The sun hung in the sky, but she barely noticed; all she could think about was the principal’s likely reaction to her being late. Classes had started an hour earlier, and she dreaded the consequences that awaited her.

Dodging friends and students chatting in groups, she stole glances at the principal's office, hoping he wouldn’t see her hurried escape. Finally, she burst into her classroom just as the bell rang, a sound that felt like a sigh of relief. It was 9:00 AM, marking the beginning of the first break for the students.

Exhaling heavily, Afrah took her seat at the bench, her fatigue evident. She quickly handed her late slip to the teacher, who gave her a scrutinizing look. Trying to appear calm, she smiled, hoping to brush off her lateness as just another day. As her friends gathered around her, eager to catch up during the break, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted. Little did she know, the day ahead held unexpected twists that would change everything.

Christine caught her up and started talking with her.

"Hey, what’s up, Afrah? You running late again? Got something big happening in the PSH?" (Christine)

"Ugh, nothing special, Christine. Everything’s pretty lame... feels like a bad vibe or something," Afrah replied nervously.

"Why? What’s going on?" Christine asked, genuinely concerned.

"Nothing, really... but we seriously need a scriptwriter... Anyway, just forget it. I don’t know why I’m even bothering you," Afrah said.

"I could help out. If you need me, I know someone who might be perfect for the job," Christine offered.

"Who? Spill the beans! I wanna meet this person. Where are they?" Afrah asked eagerly, her words tumbling out.

"Come on, why are you making this so complicated? Just relax!" Christine teased.

"Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Just tell me who this scriptwriter is!" Afrah insisted, still excited.

"Well, our principal just announced that a new guy joined the class at the far end of our hall. He’s a pretty good scriptwriter as a hobby," Christine explained.

"Awesome, thanks, Chris! Catch you later!" (Afrah)

As she strolled down the corridor, Afrah could hear laughter and excitement buzzing in the air like a swarm of bees on a sugar high. Suddenly, she spotted the pupil leader girl striding toward her, holding a tiny blade. It glinted in the light, and for a split second, Afrah's imagination went wild—she hallucinated that it was Viola, the escaped serial killer, and she froze in her tracks like a deer caught in headlights.

But the girl zoomed right past her without so much as a second glance. “What’s happening?” Afrah thought, half expecting a scream and a chase to follow. Instead, the pupil leader zoomed up to a rope dangling from the ceiling and snipped it with a flourish.

The rope came crashing down, revealing a big, colourful banner that unrolled, exclaiming, “Happy birthday, Hugo!” It was like a surprise party explosion!

Relief washed over Afrah, and she couldn't help but chuckle at her crazy imagination.
“Janeshwa, your idea led to a visit of a serial killer, a dead writer. They are all playing in my mind” she muttered to herself.
With a playful shake of her head, she skipped away, ready to meet the scriptwriting boy, her heart merry and full of newfound cheerfulness.

"Hey everyone, can you just chill for a sec? I really need to touch base with the new guy," Afrah called out to her classmates.

"Afrah! Good to see you again! You're still looking stunning, as always," Ronan chimed in, trying to flatter her.

"Cut it out, Ronan. You know I'm not into that. Where’s the new guy?" Afrah shot back.

"Who, Tharun? The new scriptwriter? Total weirdo," Hanah said with a smirk.

"What? Seriously? Why do you think that?" Afrah was confused.

"Trust me, Afrah. This guy is like nothing we’ve ever come across," George added, leaning in.

"Okay, but what’s the deal? If you guys are judging him like he’s some criminal, how am I supposed to find someone else? I need a scriptwriter, like, yesterday," Afrah said, biting her lip in worry.

"We just want to look out for you, but you have to hear this," Hanah insisted.

"Alright, spill it," Afrah replied, raising an eyebrow.

"So, picture this: It's been an hour since he joined us, and he's already acting super awkward. Yeah, he’s good-looking and seems smart, but then he totally flops like…," Hanah paused for dramatic effect.

"Like what? Just tell me! Break's almost over!" Afrah urged, impatiently.

"Alcoholic vibes, I swear. He walked in all chill, but suddenly, he clutched his head and fell right onto Shirley's lap! Like, what even? The teacher had to lift him up and plop him back in his seat," Hanah exclaimed.

"And it gets better. He snored through the whole class like a freight train! We couldn't help but laugh, and it broke the teacher's zen. He ended up dragging him to the principal's office on the first day! So, yeah, he's probably still there," George added, shaking his head.

"This is wild! But I still need him. There’s no way I’m finding a young, talented scriptwriter around here!" Afrah said, feeling the pressure.

She rushed out of the classroom, her mind racing. "What’s wrong with him?" she muttered to herself.

Christine watched her from the corner, shaking her head in disappointment.

After many hours, the bell rang and the students were dispersed. Afrah went to the Young Soldiers Office in the basement to contact Janeshwa. No one was there, the phone was out of service, so she was coming out. Suddenly, Tharun came in her way and stopped her by keeping his hand on the wall.
Afrah screamed in fright but Tharun kept his hand on her mouth and started talking.

"They've told me about you. Yes, I am a scriptwriter. I want to become a scriptwriter!" He shouted dizzily.

"Ha...he...um... okay, alright. I accept you as a scriptwriter" Afrah said nervously.

"Huh... I need to make my school day over happily" He said and started drinking a wine which was in his bag.

"You need?" He asked her.

"No! Please give me your card, and I can contact you tonight! Bye!" Afrah rushed.

Afrah took his card and was walking along the street to the bus stop. She found in the card that he, too, was an orphan by coincidence. She got onto the bus and left the bus stop for PSH.

But did she forget anything which was bothering her?
Comment your answer to this :)

To be continued...