The classroom was a square furnace of noise, chalk dust, and scraped wooden desks. Morning sunlight slanted through the iron-barred windows, casting long lines across the tiled floor. Tushar sat in the second row, his elbows on his desk, chin resting on one hand. His eyes were fixed on the door.
Amrita was late.
Miss D'Costa's voice droned in the background about types of rocks—igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic—but Tushar was barely listening. He knew Amrita had taken the same bus that morning. He had seen her bright blue dupatta fluttering in the back seat. She had smiled at him through the window, tapping the glass with her fingers as the bus pulled in.
But now the seat beside him was empty.
Just as Miss D'Costa turned to write on the blackboard, the classroom door creaked open. All heads turned. There she was—Amrita—with her hair slightly disheveled, a pink scratch on her cheek, and her expression unreadable.
"Sorry, Miss," she whispered. "I… I fell."
Miss D'Costa gave a stiff nod, and Amrita scurried to her seat beside Tushar. Her eyes avoided his. She was holding her left arm stiffly.
"What happened?" Tushar whispered.
She shook her head. "Later."
At recess, they sat behind the sports shed, their usual hideout. Amrita opened her water bottle and took a shaky sip.
"It was Samay," she said finally. "He pulled my bag on the stairs. I slipped."
Tushar's stomach clenched. Samay was a tall boy from Class 9, known for bullying the smaller kids. Tushar had avoided his radar so far. But Amrita—Amrita was fearless, sharp-tongued, always quick with a comeback. It didn't surprise him she'd become a target.
"I'll tell Ma'am," Tushar said.
"No," Amrita snapped. "That's what he wants. He wants me to look weak."
"But you're hurt."
She met his eyes. "Not enough to lose."
After school, Tushar stayed back. He took a piece of chalk from the teacher's table and marched out into the corridor. There, on the stone floor outside Class 9, he drew a thick white line. A border. A warning.
He didn't say a word to Samay. He just stood there and stared as the older boy approached. Samay looked down at the line, then at Tushar, and laughed.
"You think you're tough?"
Tushar didn't flinch. "Cross that line, and next time, I fall on you."
A moment passed. Then Samay smirked, kicked the line, and walked on.
But he didn't touch Amrita again.
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Moral: True friendship means standing up, not just for someone—but with them, especially when their courage is tested