Who is mine?

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Slurping my noodles, I decided I liked the taste of it. It was salty and sweet at the same time, a flavor that I couldn't place my finger on.

"Sneha?" my father called out.

"Sorry, I zoned out" I blurted with the noodles in my mouth. Ma laughed so hard at the sight that I got scared for a second.

"It's okay dear. We wanted to remind you that you have school tomorrow so don't stay up late, okay? I have to leave early for my morning shift. I'll prepare your breakfast and leave money for your lunch on the counter."

Mom was smiling. I loved how she said everything with a smile. It was beautiful because no matter how many times she smiled, it never looked fake, always so genuine.

"Yes, ma".

"I'll drop you off tomorrow. The school is not that far, you can walk on your way back, but only if you are familiar with the way. Call me otherwise" My father added. Pa was used to treating me like a child. I wanted to tell him that I won't be lost and that I won't need the help but I didn't. He cared too much and I was still his little girl. It never got to him that I was going to be seventeen in three weeks.

"Yes Pa, I will," I reassured him. Quickly finishing my dinner, I hurried back to my room.

It had been four days since I came here. Tomorrow was going to be the day that really mattered. I was what they call 'the high school student'. I just one more year remaining in school and that would be it. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I started brushing my teeth and took a shower after that. It's a habit that I found to be the most effective when it came to wanting a sound sleep in my case. I also laid out what I was going to wear tomorrow. The idea of not wearing a uniform was a very new concept for me. Uniforms meant that there was nothing much to be prepared for when it came to dressing up for school. It was always the same, going to a convent school meant that I was not allowed to dress up or wear anything fashionable. That seriously saved me a lot of time and anxiety. But for my first day of school tomorrow, I had nothing much to wear apart from the clothes from home. I rarely wore Western clothes, I preferred traditional Indian outfits. It helped me blend in, and me being of quiet nature made it impossible for pestering boys to keep a conversation going. It was a defense mechanism that had helped me over the years. I was the nerd that nobody really spoke to unless they needed help with homework and I liked it that way. Besides, traditional clothes, for some reason, seemed more colorful and fashionable to me.

I picked out a red full sleeved kurta (that is similar to a dress yet a little different) and white leggings to accompany them. I took out matching bangles that had a tint of glitter to them. Why not? After all the first day of school doesn't come a second time. As I got ready for bed, I prayed to God to make the coming day a happy and beautiful one. I closed my eyes, anxious about tomorrow. I waited for sleep to engulf my fears, and soon it did.

The next morning, the ringing sound of my alarm woke me up. It was an annoying tone that I had kept only because it was so annoying that I woke up every time it rang. It was six-thirty which meant I had ample time to get ready. I prayed, brushed, after the rest of my morning routine and change of clothes was done, I took out the smallest red bindi I could find to finish my look and checked my reflection in the mirror. I don't usually do this but then today was no ordinary day.

I took a second glance. My hair which was curly at the end and straight at the top lay playfully by my waist. It had a brownish tint to it which I had got from my mom. She was embarrassed of it and so had colored it black. I on the other hand enjoyed the curious glances that my friends gave me when they could not figure out whether it was Mehendi (Henna) or something else that made my hair the color it was. My bindi allowed my hazel brown eyes to pop. I applied minimal makeup and heaved a sigh of satisfaction and came downstairs. Dad was reading the morning newspaper, munching on cereal.