Paper Confines

xiii. Liebestraum

"The big man," Sachiv sneered. They all called the Englishman that. The school was his. "I bet he'd be happy to get rid of you. You don't know how to listen."

He forced her off the ground, and Nadya squirmed away violently.

Vrushika took a jab at her, and Nadya spat on her blouse. It was a half-accident, but Vrushika's dramatics made her wish she'd done it entirely on purpose.

"She spat on me! She spat on me!" she screamed, flailing her arms.

Sachiv went to push her, and Nadya didn't think. She just started to run.

The four—five of them, she realized in horror—shouted after her, and they were quick on her heels, but Nadya charged through the back entryway and into the wet snow. Aavyan was either lying about the door or Nadya had suddenly acquired the ability to pick locks with her mind, because it was open at the twist of a handle.

Her small body dashed through the back street, breath bone-white in the cold, heart pounding under her flailing tie. Behind her, she could hear the bigger feet, the thick blazers ruffling. Nadya leapt over leftover obstacles of the missionary reconstruction and began to sprint. Pavement crunched under her shoes, step after step, as she went further from the building and into the measured dispersion of bael trees. Distantly, she could see cars and flats and the sprawling, intricate architecture of Mumbai. She passed the small playground, and felt her lungs going tight. Too far to reach the streets. She felt like she was going to collapse.

"Stop running!" Sachiv yelled, and Nadya had never heard him sound so angry.

Her eyes darted across the trees. The grounds were small, but in some places the forestry was thicker. It was almost a park. Nadya kept on going until the flurry of trees was enough to get lost in. She crouched behind a particularly large trunk and a small cluster of bushes; a temporary solution, sure, but she was shaking and her heart felt weak.

The footsteps behind her slowed.

"Come on," Aavyan said, his voice far-away but certain.

The other four joined, murmuring her name, calling to her, and Nadya steadied against the bael tree. She needed to move.

Another breath. And her name. A breath. Her name. A breath. Quiet. The smell of ripe, golden apples.

Nadya lurched forward to run, but a hand came out and grabbed her by the collar.

"I said stop running," Sachiv snarled.

He took her arm, and she thrashed in his grip. The street was so close.

The fountain was closer.

"Let me go!"

"Why?" He almost looked like he was going to hit her.

She could barely remember why he hated her so much. Something she had said as a girl less careful with her words. Something that sparked in her fingertips once that only he had seen. Something her father had done to his. Something boys did when they bottled things in and let them burst, a warning that should have been heeded when he dragged Vrushika by her hair and commanded the other schoolboys to his bidding like a god of his own.

"Please," Nadya croaked in a small voice.

Sachiv's mouth twisted—wrong answer—and he pushed her head-first into the fountain.

Nadya gasped instinctively. Her mouth filled immediately with water. She struggled for the surface, but Sachiv's grip was strong. He released her for a second, and Nadya swallowed all the air she could before she went under again. This time he held her longer.