A Few Hundred Poppies

2. Brown Privilege

He stepped on the can, twisted his ankle with a sharp snap that sounded very painful, and ridiculously crashed to the floor with a frightening scream, sending the papers in his hand flying through the air. I tried to stifle my laugh with a cough like the rest of the students in the hallway as Miss Flaxen came to his rescue, her heels clacking on the tile. Lowering my head to avoid being spotted by him, I briskly moved to the staircase, realising that my nerves were eased.

The pleasant smell of a lime-scented disinfectant from the recently mopped floor hovered in the air as the flight of stairs left me across the corridor from the Principal's office. I wiped my clammy hands on my green Edelweiss Academy skirt - custom-made with two pockets against each of my thighs. Exhaling deeply, I rapped my knuckles twice on the particle-board door.

"Come in," Nilima Sen's intelligent voice sounded. Slipping in, I found her comfortably settled in her chair as she greeted me with a kind, suspicious smile. On the other hand, the Mr Cheekbones sitting across the desk seemed entirely bored with the situation, until his eyes settled on my features. Interestingly, the stain of a certain lovable brand of candy still blotched his white shirt even though he'd visibly tried to wash it off.

I swore to never admit it aloud, but from up close, he was undeniably hotter, with his distractingly sharp cheekbones, a strong, square jaw, a frame that must've stood as tall as Ever, long legs that bumped against the Principal's desk as he slouched on the chair, and a mop of the messiest dark hair. And lips that reminded me of Lee's famous tangy raspberry tarts.

A tiny voice in my head sighed at getting off to a rocky start with someone so dreamy. But soon enough, the other louder, more reasonable voice squished it under its foot.

It died with a squeak.

-

"Excuse me, ma'am, but-"

"No buts, Aditi," Headmistress Sen let out a breath, cutting me off with her glaringly Indian accent. I liked it about her - the fact that she wore her accent proudly. "Tell me, why on Earth did you spit on him?"

Never hearing the end of that, am I? The warmth in my cheeks as I chewed my lip must've made something click in her mind, because she reached for my hand resting limply on the table and gave it a motherly squeeze. "Between you and me," she lowered her voice, glancing at the door behind which she'd the boy called West stand, "I can tell that this boy is quite a handful despite his perfect records. Nevertheless, your behaviour is in no way acceptable."

She leaned back in her swivelling chair and shifted her weight from one arm to another before settling into a comfortable position and taking off her blue-tinted glasses, waving it from side to side. "It's quite simple: you show him around, help him adjust to the new environment so that he doesn't bother me. And I reassign you to the club."

I was a tad biased for Nilima Sen, because she was a tad biased for me. The lunch lady spoke to her airily because she was a vegetarian Brahmin and jeered at me whenever I asked her whether the food was halal*, and over the past few years, the Principal and I had bonded over our silent sympathy for each other and hatred for Mrs. Lunch Lady. Thus, I decided that I owed her some special treatment for being pretty cool (and even though I liked to be fair, for being just as brown as I was). Letting out a small sigh, I nodded defeatedly. "I'll try my best, ma'am."

As I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob to leave, the Headmistress beckoned me to stop and bit her lip, tapping her index finger against the edge of her table in thought. "I want you to know something, Aditi, the fact that he's reckless and insensitive is barely his fault. I'm not sure why, but I really do believe that you will be able to bring out the better in him. An educator's instinct, if you will."

Belief is a marvellous thing, I thought, stepping out of the small room. Maybe sometimes, things happen just because we believe that they will.

My thoughts screeched to a halt the moment my eyes settled on West's, who was casually leaning against the wall with his gaze trailed on the latest iPhone in his hand. I sighed, pursing my lips before approaching him.

"So this is whom they've chosen to be my 'tour guide'?" He laughed an amazingly small yet cynical laugh as I stood before him, his eyes travelling condescendingly down my figure. While I defiantly crossed my arms over my chest, he tucked the phone into the back pocket of his trousers.

"Okay, look. I'm a nice person, so I won't punch your face. Seriously, I don't want this any more than you do, because it's not even fair. You ruined my painting and now I have to babysit you to get back in the club. How the fuck does that add up?"

West rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the cheesecake-coloured wall. "Whatever, midget. Just do both of us a favour, and leave me alone," he spat, turned around and headed to the left.

"Wait, asshole," I called out, amused. He looked at me over his shoulder and emitted a low growl.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

"Unless you wanna cuddle with the janitor, the stairwell is this way," pointing to the right, I sighed dramatically. "Edelweiss is a huge place - you sure you can manage on your own? I'm not-" I was cut off when he abruptly stepped close to me.

The sort of close that makes your heart beat louder.

"Wha- p-personal space, dude." I crossed my arms again, craning my neck to look up at him. I discovered that the eyes glaring at me were fiercely brown, but the soft warmth that comes with brown eyes was stabbed by contemptuous flecks of gold, while the lashes framing them delicately were almost feminine in their length. Something lingered behind the haughtiness in them, but I couldn't tell what it was.

He leaned in next to my ear, and I tried to not let the unsteadiness in my breath show as I caught a whiff of his ambrosial, surprisingly vanilla-dominated cologne. His breath made an unpleasant feeling grow at my neck as he whispered against it, "I'm asking you nicely, don't push it. You don't know a thing about me. Leave. Me. Alone."

"You know what? Whatever, dude. Just don't go telling on me to the Principal for-"

Without letting me finish, he sauntered down the stairs, bringing his arm over his head and shoving his middle finger at me. It was rather ironic of him, because the very next afternoon, I found him diving into water for me.

-

*Halal - permissible for Muslims

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