1. The Competition

Like each year, at the start of the summer season, the school reopens for the following year. This year was no different. The same school building, the same wooden benches, the same assembly ground, the exact first-day principles's speech. Only the new was different. The new uniform, the latest pair of shoes, the limited edition trading cards and the iPod updates with this year's songs. And she, the competition.

My school would get many new admissions every year during the initial few days. I was never worried about anything but the challengers. And this was time to know if I would be having any new challengers this year. That's what good challengers do, keep an eye on the competition.

It was the year's first lecture, and our class teacher was taking the roll call. The teacher paused for a minute and looked in the direction of the door. The door was facing our class teacher.

"Please come in and join the class."

Every pair of eyes in that class turned around to see the new girl. And I was no exception. It was not unusual for this time of the year to have new admissions, and it was certainly not like we had never seen a pretty girl with a red hair band on her short and shiny hair. She was carrying the red school bag and looked really cute in her white school shirt and the red tie.

She was stepping, looking at each face as she passed by. She was smiling; her smile was nothing less than a powerful electric influx. I am sure she would have been already the crush of each boy present in that class that day. And finally, she sat down at her place.

The class teacher resumed the roll call. After the roll call, the new girl walked to the class teacher's table and handed the admission documents. As a ritual, every new student was asked to give a short introduction of themselves to the class. Thinking retro, what would 15-year-old souls have said about themselves other than what she said?

She said,

"Hey all, I am ******. I moved here from ****. Last year, I scored 92%."

And this was the "oooh" moment for the class. Oh, so the new girl is my competition.

But she is cute as well.

She is a competition.

She is cute.

Competition. Cute.

Competition. Cute.

Competition. Cute.

Competition. Cute.

But Competition. But Cute.

But Competition. But Cute.

But Competition. But Cute.

But Competition. But Cute.

But Competition. But Cute.

But Competition.

But she is beautiful...

The loop continued until someone shook me to bring me back to my senses. And yes, that was another oooh moment in the class. I was feeling shy, and she reddened.

The bell rang. The first lecture was over. The following lecture was on mathematics. It went as anyone would assume: Radio Silence. The only noise one could hear was chalk on the blackboard and pens scribbling on the papers, other than our mathematics teacher explaining the topics. Until ...

The bell rang.

In recess, she reached out to me,

"Hey, ******,

Between the classes, my friend, my bench mate, *****, told me you have been a topper for the last few years. It's nice to meet you. Let's be friends and have a healthy competition.

Friends?

"

She reached out to shake my hand. It was the only touch we had. Her smile, handshake, and friendly competition all seemed like a dream to me. Sadly, it turned out to be a dream.

The next day, she didn't attend school. On the third day, she was not in school. On the fourth day, the class teacher didn't call out her name during the roll call.

What happened? Why it happened?

The following Monday, her bench mate told us (basically the whole class) that her father was reposted on emergency orders, so they moved out of the city last Saturday. She had called her bench mate because she wanted to return the notebook. Her bench mate handed over to me a handwritten note from her.

The note was sealed with glue.

And even today, it's still sealed with that very glue.