Aveni and I were fortunate enough to be in the same class ever since then. Maybe the teachers in the cubicle, while assigning classes, forgot about us and were focused more on the bigger friend circles in the class. Or maybe, they felt so sorry for the two of us that they never separated us and just let us be together.
We, on the other hand, became the crazy duo that everyone wanted to become.
Suddenly, we became the ultimate friendship goal among others. Others would try to copy aesthetics that came to us naturally. And the crazy part is, in our friendship, we never compromised for each other. Whatever we did, it was a collective thing. If one wanted to eat in the cafeteria, the other would pack their lunchbox and leave for the cafeteria, and they would eat together. If one wanted to play a sport, the other had to play it.
Others might say that our dynamic is unhealthy or weird, but we found it perfect for us. Even now, after so many years, if Aveni called me to rant about her job, I would pick it up in the middle of the surgery and ask her to text it out so that I can read it as soon as I get over with the surgery. The same goes for her, for I would tell her the juiciest gossip of the hospital while she was literally working on some billionaire company's tax records.
And for those who are curious about our jobs, patience. I'll get to that part soon enough.
It was a chilly winter morning. That day, it was a week before the Christmas break. My father dropped my younger brother and me at the parking lot and left for work. My brother was in primary school, and the attender was waiting for him and some other students, who arrived a little later, at the gate of the school. The school provided attendants for young primary school students to take them to their class from the parking lot, ensuring the students reached their class safely.
Our school was a private school and was rich and enormous. So huge that the school had kept cycles for students to travel within the campus.
It had six buildings: one for kindergarten, one for primary school, one for middle school, one for high school, one for pre-university and one for international students. It had a large football ground, one volleyball court, one badminton court, one skating rink, two basketball courts, one cafeteria, two snack shops, one tennis court, two swimming pools, one golf course, three science parks, two administrative buildings and a residential area for international students. It had a huge bus yard and a parent's parking lot for those who travelled to school in their private cars.
We had a strict, yet not so much, uniform policy. We had to wear a white shirt, a white and navy blue checkered pleated skirt for girls or trousers for boys, a navy blue belt, a tie and a hoodie with the school logo and an ID card issued for that year. We couldn't style our uniforms or write on shirts on farewell; however, we could wear makeup, make elaborate hairstyles and express ourselves the way we wished to. However, one thing was very annoying to every single student. We couldn't wear any personal sweater or jacket on the campus, only the thin hoodie that the school provided at the beginning of the semester.
After I saw my brother successfully reach the attender, I left for my building. The school was still quiet. Thick fog covered the pathway to the middle school building. I was shivering from my bones. I kept rubbing my arms to keep myself warm inside a thin uniform jacket. My feet were freezing. Fortunately, I was wearing a muffler and a head cap that I crocheted.
Somehow managing to keep myself alive and not get frostbite, I reached the subzero temperature classroom that emitted the cold air that could be felt within a 50 m radius. Normally, I am the one who reaches the classroom first, unlatching the door and getting hit by the cold air. However, that day, I saw the room was open, and inside, someone was sleeping on a desk. Surprised by how early someone reached the class, I kept my bag on my assigned desk and approached him.
"Vian," I gently nudged at the hand that was hanging from the desk.
"Hmm." His deep voice stopped me in my tracks and had my brain short-circuit for a second.
Vian, short for Vihaan, was our class' ultimate pride and joy, and why would he not be? He was captain of the school football team, main guitarist of the choir, and presided as an information and technology head of the student council. He was handsome, tall, multi-talented, and loved by all teachers. Girls of all grades would come at least once to take a peek at him. Every Valentine's Day, he would be flooded with love letters and confessions, and as the gentleman he is, he would politely decline them with utmost respect.
And he was the one I had my crush on in high school.
I was the class president of our class, and as the president, I had a lot of menial work to do before the homeroom teacher entered the class and took the attendance. I was supposed to clean the blackboard, write the thought of the day and date on the board, arrange the desks, open the windows and keep the class ready for the arrival of other students.
To not disturb him, I quietly took a chair and stood up on it to write on the board. After writing, I carefully returned the chair back to its position without making a single noise and slightly opened the window. The chilly air gushed into the room, and my facial muscles turned stiff due to the wind. Then I started to arrange the desks.
"Vian." I nudged again.
"Hmm," he responded with a tinge of annoyance in his tone.
I could feel blood rushing towards my ears, making them red as a beetroot, but, for now, I really need to finish this column, for this was the only column left to arrange, and he was sleeping on the first desk.
"Wake up, I need to arrange the desks properly. Sleep somewhere else in the meantime." I suggested.
Vian's deep brown, lethargic eyes met my chocolate brown, panicky eyes and smirked.
I nudged again, "Go, sit in my seat while I arrange this column. Just for two minutes."
Annoyed by my nagging, he held my hand that nudged at him and pulled me close.
There's something funny about the human body. The human spine, knees, and hips are poorly designed for bipedal movement, resulting in chronic back pain and joint deterioration, particularly as the body ages. And, this old lady has the worst joints ever. So bad that it amazingly fails to protect my dignity and embarrasses me in front of a lot of people. A lot of people.
And just when I wished to trust my body that it would protect me just this one time, it, without fail, did what it did all the time: fail me.
I accidentally kissed Vian on his lips.