Miss Shetty and Mr Gupta

~Sports Meet ~

Isha's POV

The past three months had whooshed by in a whirlwind. Here I was, basking in the golden glow of a September afternoon, the vibrant hues of fall painting the school grounds outside the window. As I revelled in the view from my seat by the window, a voice crackled through the intercom. "Ms. Desai's assistant requests the presence of the student council members in the principal's office. Please proceed immediately."
A chorus of nods rippled through the group as we rose from our chairs. Reaching the imposing oak door of Mr. Desai's office, I took a deep breath and rapped my knuckles on the wood. A curt "Come in!" echoed from within.

We pushed open the door and filed in, offering a chorus of respectful greetings. Mr Desai, his usual stern demeanour softened by a hint of a smile, gestured for us to take a seat.

"I know you're all wondering why I've called you in first thing this morning," he began, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Well," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the annual school sports meet is fast approaching, and I need all of you to take charge."

A collective sense of excitement crackled through the room. Mr Desai then turned towards me, his gaze firm yet encouraging. "As student council president, Isha, I'd like you to take the lead on this."

A wave of pride washed over me. "Of course, sir," I declared, returning his confident gaze.

He then addressed the remaining members, "Everyone, I expect you to assist Isha wholeheartedly. And most importantly," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "stay out of trouble."

We all exchanged knowing smiles and nods before turning towards the door. Just as we were about to exit, Mr. Desai's voice stopped us in our tracks.

"Daksh," he drawled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "you must be thrilled that the disciplinary committee usually takes a backseat during the sports meet. Well, not this year. You're in charge of maintaining order among the students during practice sessions. No more sprinting through the corridors, understood?"

Daksh's jaw dropped his expression a comical mix of shock and disbelief. It was as if Mr. Desai had read his mind! Trish, Viraj, and I couldn't contain our laughter. Viraj, unable to resist, threw an arm around Daksh's shoulders, playfully steering him out of the office amidst Daksh's mumbled protests.

.....................

A week of tireless work culminated in a scene of organized chaos. Chairs gleamed in neat rows, posters blazoned the names of upcoming events, and the scoreboard stood tall, a silent sentinel waiting for its moment to shine. Invitations were delivered, participants confirmed, and an air of electric anticipation crackled around the school. Even the sports teachers, known for their stoicism, couldn't hide a hint of excitement. With a satisfied sigh, I ticked the last item off my seemingly endless to-do list. "All done," I muttered to myself, a sense of accomplishment washing over me.

As I wandered around the deserted grounds, the last student to leave for the day, a prickling sensation of unease crawled up my spine. The once-bustling athletic field stretched before me, bathed in the fading light of the afternoon sun. A quick glance around confirmed my suspicion.The most hardworking teachers also left to have an early start on the weekend. I was truly alone. Reaching for my phone, I pretended to be engrossed in a selfie, using the camera screen as a makeshift mirror to peek behind me.

A figure swathed in a black hoodie materialized from the shadows, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me. Casual wear was allowed on Saturdays, but this wasn't casual wear, it was bad horror movie attire. Swallowing my rising panic, I gripped the phone tighter, its smooth surface a poor substitute for a weapon. The figure shuffled closer, the hood pulled low, obscuring any identifying features.

This was it. Fight or flight? Years of karate training kicked in, and in a flash, I launched into a textbook headlock, twisting the figure's arm behind their back. "Who are you?" I hissed my voice tight with fear. "Who sent you? Talk now, or I unleash my full karate fury on you!"

A muffled voice, laced with amusement, broke the tense silence. "Isha... it's me." Recognition dawned as the voice clicked into place. Releasing the pressure, I watched as the figure peeled back the hood, revealing Viraj's sheepish grin.

"Creepy much?" I deadpanned, my voice regaining its strength as anger replaced fear. Viraj remained silent, bracing himself for the inevitable.

I didn't disappoint. A flurry of well-placed punches rained down on his arm. "Viraj, you idiot!" I exclaimed. "Do you know how scared I was? What if that was actually someone dangerous? And that stupid hoodie? You looked like a kidnapper right out of a horror movie!"

Viraj finally found his voice, a sheepish tone colouring his words. "I'm sorry, Isha. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. You were the last one here, it's Saturday afternoon, and let's be honest, your scream wouldn't exactly pierce through these walls."

I couldn't help but concede his point. With a sigh, the anger ebbed away, replaced by a grudging acceptance. "Fine," I muttered. "But next time, find a less terrifying way to show you care."
Viraj grinned, relief flooding his features. Together, we walked out of the school grounds, the setting sun casting long shadows in our wake. The scare had been real, but the bond of friendship remained strong.