Tenth Grade was Fun!

1. RUSH HOUR

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

I'm fallin' so I'm takin' my time on my

Ri-i-i-de, oh, oh, oh,

I'm fallin' so I'm takin' my time on my

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide

Takin' my time on my

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide

I groan as I hear the upbeat tune of 'Ride' by Twenty One Pilots. Turning towards the source of the sound, I find my mobile's screen lit in an annoying amount of brightness that almost makes me go blind—even though it was the minimum level available!

It's my alarm.

Yes, my fucking alarm for me to wake up 'on time' to get ready for school.

Feeling a bit sleepy, I hit the snooze button and go back to sleeping...

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE

OH GOD!! HAVE THE FIVE MINUTES PASSED ALREADY????

Cursing under my breath I dismiss the alarm and get up from my bed, rubbing my eyes as I make my way to the bathroom, and stare at the hazy reflection of the dark-brown-almost-black eyed girl staring back at me from the mirror above the bathroom sink with sleepiness. 

The eyes are something really fascinating and I love to stare at and examine them. I lean forward towards the mirror as I keep looking keenly at my myopic, short sighted eyes. They were such a dark shade of brown that without light shining directly on it, they appear black. I wonder how I would look with light brown eyes—

"ARE YOU UP RITHVIKA?"

My thoughts are interrupted as my mom hollers from outside, probably in the kitchen preparing food for me to take to school.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I shout back and start brushing my teeth.

Well, that's me, Rithvika Sharma, 14-going-15 year old, not-too-girlish-nor-tomboyish, tenth grade girl. I'm an only child, but that doesn't mean I'm overly pampered. My parents know when to be strict and when not to. I may be a pain in their ass at times, but I know that they mean well. I love them and they love me nonetheless. My parents united through arranged marriage. YEAH! FUCKING ARRANGED MARRIAGE! But I've never seen any loving parents like them...okay that's an exaggeration but still, you get the gist.

After showering I change into my school's uniform, a grayish-blue shirt and black pants, tucked in for boys and not tucked for girls, throw my ID-CARD with its tag around my neck, put on my black rimmed prescribed eyeglasses and rush out of my room with a comb and my black with white polka dots scrunchie in my hands. 

As I reach the living room, I call out for my mom to comb my hair. She comes out of the kitchen and I stand in front of her with my back towards her as she brushes my medium length, black-with-hints-of-brown, slightly wavy hair into a high ponytail.

Yes. I'm a few months over 14 years old and I don't know how to comb my hair—well, I tried once but that ended with my mom running towards me with a spatula held up and shouting at me for ripping out almost one-fourth of my hair.

Giving a pat on my shoulders she goes back into the kitchen while I pack my school bag with a water bottle and my packed lunch box that my mom gives me later. I put on my black socks and black shoes, tie them up and strap on my five years old, trusted, Casio digital watch and my mom comes out holding out a plate of breakfast for me. 

When I'm almost done with it, I hear a horn being honked twice from out of my house. Dumping the rest of the food into my mouth I wash my hands hurriedly and make my way out of the house after waving my mother goodbye, with my school bag, all the while chewing the food.

Taking the stairs, I run down the two floors—there is an elevator, but it's just two floors making it a workout of sorts—making my way from the second floor where my house is in the four-storied apartment towards the main gate as I see my school bus waiting. 

I run out and get into the bus, shooting the driver a sheepish smile and apology and take my seat a few rows from the back of the bus, next to Maya, a girl from the apartment adjacent to mine who is a year elder than me—hence she's in eleventh grade. Smiling at each other we start a conversation with her asking me, "So! It's your first day of tenth grade! How do you feel? You've got your Board Exams this year!"

Yep. We have our board exams in tenth grade after which we get to select a stream of subjects—a.k.a. 'group'—according to the career we wish to pursue in our future after we write another board exams in twelfth grade and continue our education further by entering colleges according to the marks that we score. So yeah, board exams are pretty big deal. But I think, if you study properly, you'd get what you deserve.

"Oh no Maya! Please don't start with it already. It's SO OVERRATED! If you study, you'll get the group you want, if not you won't." I exclaim with an eye roll and shrug at the last part.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Well, as far as I know, you study fairly well. So I think you'd get the group you want."

"Yep, me too. But that doesn't mean I'm just gonna be a lazy ass and study just the way I am. I'm going to try and raise my game. After all, my family expects good marks. And I've promised my Mom at least a 450 out of 500." I reply.

"Enough about me. How's your life?" I ask.

"Oh well, you know I got the bio-math group. New class, some new and old students, new teachers..." She trails off shrugging.

We then settle into a comfortable silence and make some occasional conversations here and there through the total thirty minutes ride, until finally the bus stops at our school. 

Making my way out of the bus, Maya and I walk together till we part ways near the staircase where she goes to her class in the ground floor while I continue upstairs to the third—and the last—floor and this also acts as a workout of sorts. Students were not allowed to take the elevators, except for some who are permitted by the Principal for any certain reason.

Being one of the biggest school campuses, my school has a separate group of buildings for the Kindergarten and Montessori students, a separate building for the first, second and third grades, a separate one for fourth grade, a separate one for fifth grade and a separate one for sixth till twelfth grades. And these are excluding our basketball, volleyball and tennis court, a cricket net-practice area, a VERY LARGE open ground for football and other sports, a separate building for the auditorium, separate playgrounds for the Kindergarten & Montessori, and Primary school each and an upcoming new building for the JEE students who go through special classes and shit so that they could enter the one of the I.I.T.'s, the most prestigious universities for all those engineering and science aspirants. Every grade, including Montessori and Kindergarten, has fourteen divisions—except for twelfth grade that has fifteen—denoted by alphabets.

(A/N: The first division of tenth grade would be X-'a', the second division would be X-'b' and so on.)

As I reach the third floor, I walk towards the area where the tenth grade classes are situated. How I know where they are you ask? Well pfft! I've been studying here since Kindergarten. So I know my way around here because of all those times I wander around to different buildings during free periods or...while skipping classes.

What? I'm not gonna suck it up and say that I'm a good girl and all. But I'm neither a bad girl. I do my fair share of studying, am pretty good with the teachers, but sometimes, I need a break for myself too. So sometimes I lie to the teachers saying I'm needed somewhere else, or fake-assist anyone who'd want to skip class with me who would come up with a fake stomach ache or head ache, or come up with a fake stomach ache or head ache myself.

Walking towards my allotted classroom, I give nods and smiles as I pass by few familiar faces that I've come to know in the past twelve years of studying here. Reaching my classroom a little breathless, I find a wooden name plate with "X - 'B'" perfectly painted on it hanging from the wall above the door.

"Finally!" I mutter under my breath and after taking a deep breath, I enter the classroom which has god-knows-what-or-who in store for me for the rest of the upcoming year.

A/N: Thoughts? Vote and comment, please and thank you!