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In the last class, Ms. Rooh had made a grand announcement about the annual festival. It was scheduled for a month later, and the entire class had erupted into cheers and hoots. For what reason? God knows. Or maybe we were just thrilled at the prospect of skipping boring lectures—like the one we were stuck in right now.
Maths.
Of Ms. Duvidha—oops, I mean Ms. Vividha.
I swear, this parametric form of the parabola was going to be the death of me. Ughhh... why did we even need it? What kind of sadistic mathematician sat down one day and thought, You know what the world needs? A harder way to describe a curve!
Sighing, I flipped to the last page of my notebook.
Doodles.
Every inch of it was covered in what Muskaan called art and what I called a fiasco. If you're someone who has a clean last page in your maths notebook, I respect you, but please, refrain from calling yourself human. Let's be real—by now, we've all collectively agreed that the last blank page is for doodles, not notes.
Anyways, back to my existential crisis over parabolas.
Since the last page was already vandalized with my artistic masterpieces, I turned to the second-last page and absentmindedly started scribbling. Just as I was about to decide whether my latest creation was a mutant rabbit or a very deformed snowman, Muskaan leaned in.
"Doesn't that look like Olaf?" she asked, pointing at my sketch.
Niyati peered over my shoulder, then snorted. "More like my evil dentist. I swear, he's obsessed with pulling out teeth!"
Sana gasped dramatically. "Haww! Why?!"
Niyati gave her a helpless look, as if to say I don't know either, and I'm suffering.
I decided to chime in. "Wait—so your dentist is evil?"
Niyati nodded with conviction. "He probably performs exorcisms when he's not yanking out teeth."
I paused, considering the possibility. Maybe more than just a second. I was seriously debating whether Niyati's dentist was moonlighting as a black magician when Muskaan—no, wait—Sana broke my train of thought.
"Back to earth, Dakshi! But imagine..."
Niyati's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Imagine our Devil Dentist Olaf vs. Ms. Duvidha."
That did it. Sana, as usual, took the lead. She adjusted her imaginary spectacles, sliding them down her nose, then tilted her head slightly to peer over them.
"Shh! What is this, Ms. Rathore?" she imitated Ms. Vividha's signature sarcastic tone. "So long skirt? Why didn't you wear the shorter one? No, no—why are you even doing us a favor by wearing one at all?"
I immediately looked down at the floor, feigning guilt. "Sorry-sorry, Ms. D—I mean, Ms. Vividha. I promise, next time I'll wear longer skirts."
Niyati chuckled, while Muskaan twisted her ears playfully.
"And you," Muskaan mimicked next, her voice dripping with exaggerated annoyance. "Miss Rajput! You only come here for timepass, right? No, no—why even bother studying? And your hair! Why aren't they in braids? Is this a school or a fashion show, huh, Ms. Muskaan?"
Niyati, now fully into character, was about to respond when—
"Ma'am," Armaan chimed in from behind, trying to keep a straight face, "A few minutes ago, you asked if this was a fish market. Now you're asking if it's a fashion show. If even you don't know what this place is, how are you supposed to be teaching us? Shouldn't you be learning instead?"
Niyati and I giggled. Harsh and Tejas bit back their chuckles.
And then.
The Mighty Muskaan burst into laughter.
Loud.
Too loud.
Loud enough for all eyes in the classroom to snap toward us.
Loud enough for Ms. Duvidha to hear.
From the last-second bench...
All the way to the podium where she was standing.
I mentally facepalmed.
Great. Just great. Nothing could get worse than this. Right?
Ms. Duvidha slid down her specs, her sharp gaze locking onto Muskaan like a missile target.
"What's so funny, Ms. Rajput?"
"N-nothing, miss," Muskaan stammered, still stifling laughter.
"Get out of my class! Is this a circus, Ms. Rajput, that you're laughing your lungs out? Oh—oh wait, maybe this is a stand-up comedy club, and I'm doing a comedy show? Get. Out. NOW!"
Muskaan, being the unapologetic queen she was, stood up, ready to leave, but then—something happened that no one saw coming.
"Ms. Duvidha, please decide—is this a fashion show, a fish market, a stand-up comedy club, or a classroom?"
Harsh.
Harsh actually said that.
He must have meant it as a whisper, but it came out louder than expected. Loud enough for Ms. Vividha to hear.
Her face turned crimson with rage, while the entire class struggled to contain their laughter. Even the P.T. teacher, who had been passing by, let out a small chuckle.
It must have been especially shocking for Ms. Vividha because, in maths class, Harsh was the golden boy. The good student.
Not today.
"GET OUT OF MY CLASS! BOTH OF YOU!" she bellowed.
Muskaan and Harsh left, looking oddly proud of themselves.
"Does anyone else want to join them?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
Silence.
Then, in an act of sheer audacity, Tejas quietly stood up and walked towards the door.
Armaan followed.
My jaw dropped. These maniacs!
Then it hit me—forty-five whole minutes of parametric equations... without Muskaan?
Nope. Not happening.
I stood up and left too.
Outside, Armaan turned to us. "Guys, Niya would never leave class. Even if she was dying of boredom. How do we get her out?"
Muskaan's eyes sparkled with mischief.
A younger girl from the lower grade was passing by. Muskaan approached her.
"Hey sweetie! Can you tell Ms. Vividha that Ms. Rosy is calling Niyati Thakur for annual function prep?"
The little girl hesitated. "I don't like lying to teachers..."
We all unleashed our best puppy-dog eyes.
"Please? Pretty please?"
She shook her head.
God. She was Niyati 2.0.
And then, our personal troublemaker—The Tejas Sisodia—stepped in.
"Hey, Miss Prettiest! Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Surprisingly, she followed him.
We couldn't hear what he said, but five minutes later, she walked into our class, knocked, and relayed the message.
Ms. Vividha sighed dramatically. "Fine. Go, Ms. Niyati."
The moment Niya stepped out, she shot us a look. She knew.
Muskaan and I practically dragged her towards the playground, the boys leading the way.
We ended up at the gym, which was locked.
I was about to turn back when—
Clink.
Of course, Tejas had the keys.
My inner voice mocked me—Well, duh, he stays after school for practice. Don't you have keys to the arts room?
We settled on the benches, talking about completely normal things. Like how our Evil Dentist Olaf would perform black magic.
Totally normal.
Even the boys got tired of their football practice.
And so, our grand escape from maths class ended with us lazing around in the gym, discussing tooth-stealing, exorcist dentists and the sheer absurdity of our day.
And honestly?
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Just as we were about to drift into another random discussion—this time about whether Evil Dentist Olaf had a secret lair—Tejas, being the obnoxious show-off that he was, flicked a football towards us.
"Alright, bored souls," he said, smirking. "Since you're so jobless, why don't you try playing?"
I scoffed. "No, thanks. I don't have the energy to run around and chase a ball like a lunatic."
Muskaan, however, was intrigued. "What do we get if we win?"
Harsh smirked. "Win? Against us?"
Muskaan folded her arms, tilting her head challengingly. "Oh? Afraid of a little competition?"
"Please," Armaan laughed. "You guys wouldn't last five minutes."
I was this close to reminding them that we were smart enough to escape maths class, but before I could, Muskaan decided for all of us.
"Fine! Let's do a match—girls versus boys!"
I groaned. "Muskaan, no—"
"Yes!" she cut me off.
Before I knew it, we were forced into a football match. I say forced because, in what world was I—Dakshita Rathore, a classical dancer—supposed to run after a football? The only thing my legs were trained to do was graceful turns and rhythmic footwork. Not kicking a ball like my life depended on it.
Tejas grinned smugly. "Three goals to win. If you guys score even one, we'll call it a tie."
"Oh, shove your overconfidence down the drain," I muttered under my breath.
Still, the game began.
The first five minutes? Disaster.
Sana screamed whenever the ball came near her.
Niyati was barely moving, trying to politely avoid the chaos.
And me? Well. I tried dodging the ball more than playing with it.
Meanwhile, the boys were obviously thriving. Tejas, being the Captain Eggs that he was, played like a pro. Armaan and Harsh were surprisingly good too, passing the ball between them effortlessly.
Muskaan, however, wasn't about to go down without a fight.
"OI! YOU! YES, YOU, TEJAS!" she yelled, pointing at him dramatically.
Tejas raised a brow. "What?"
"You may be Captain Eggs, but I am Muskaan Rajput, and I refuse to let you win this easily!"
Before anyone could process what was happening, Muskaan charged at him, full speed.
And—
BAM!
She slammed into him with so much force that Tejas, the almighty football captain, fell flat on his back.
There was dead silence.
Then—
Harsh BURST into laughter. "Tejas got tackled by Muskaan—OH MY GOD!"
I gasped. "Oh my god. Muskaan just took down Tejas Sisodia."
Even Armaan was howling. "Bro, you literally FELL."
Tejas groaned, rubbing his back. "I wasn't expecting her to—"
"Expect the unexpected, Captain," Muskaan smirked, flipping her hair.
Niyati clapped for her, genuinely impressed. "That was actually cool."
Muskaan bowed, as if she had just won an Olympic gold medal.
Meanwhile, I walked up to Tejas and smirked down at him. "Looks like Commander Ego needs some training, huh?"
He shot me a glare.
Before he could retaliate, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"WHAT is happening here?"
We all froze.
Standing at the entrance of the gym was none other than Ms. Vividha.
Oh.
Oh no.
I immediately looked at Muskaan. Muskaan looked at Niyati. Niyati looked at Armaan. Armaan looked at Harsh. And Harsh—
Harsh was already sprinting towards the back exit.
TRAITOR.
Ms. Vividha narrowed her eyes. "Skipping class to play football? In the gym?"
Tejas, for once, looked guilty.
I stepped forward, putting on my best innocent student face. "Ma'am, we were just—"
Ms. Vividha held up a hand, cutting me off. "I don't want to hear excuses." She sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead. "Detention. All of you."
Muskaan's jaw dropped. "What?! But we didn't even do anything that bad—"
"Tomorrow. After school. Be there."
And with that, she turned around and left.
We all stood in silence for a moment.
Then, Tejas sighed. "Great. Just great."
Muskaan nudged him. "Still better than parametric equations, right?"
Even he couldn't argue with that.
And thus, our brilliant escape from maths class landed us in detention.
But hey.
At least we didn't have to learn about parabolas.
The next day after school, the six of us found ourselves dragging our feet toward the infamous detention room.
I wasn't worried about the detention itself—after all, sitting in a classroom with my best friends wasn't the worst thing in the world. What did worry me was that Ms. Vividha was the one supervising it. And knowing her, she would probably make us write, "I will not skip class to play football" a hundred times.
We reached the classroom, and sure enough, there she was—Ms. Vividha, sitting at the teacher's desk with her signature death stare already in place.
"You're late," she said before we had even entered.
Tejas, being Tejas, had the audacity to shrug. "Only by a minute, ma'am."
Her eyes narrowed. "Do you want to make it two days of detention, Mr. Sisodia?"
He immediately shut up.
We all filed in and took our seats, trying to look as well-behaved as possible.
"You will sit here for the next one hour," she announced. "No talking, no laughing, and absolutely no nonsense."
An hour? Hah. That was nothing.
Or so I thought.
Fifteen minutes in, I was already dying of boredom. I glanced at Muskaan, who was doodling something in her notebook. Niyati was actually reading (I had no idea how she could focus in this situation), and Armaan and Harsh were whispering about something. Tejas, on the other hand, was tapping his pen against the desk, looking completely uninterested.
I sighed and pulled out my notebook, flipping to the last page. If I was going to sit here for an hour, I might as well doodle.
Just as I was about to start, Muskaan gasped dramatically and nudged me.
"Dakshi," she whispered. "Look at Harsh."
I turned to see Harsh hunched over his desk, pretending to write something while actually carving tiny letters into the wooden surface with his pen.
I squinted.
"Ms. Vividha = Queen of Doom."
I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing.
Muskaan, however, was not as subtle. She snorted.
Loudly.
Ms. Vividha looked up immediately.
"Ms. Rajput?" Her voice was dangerously calm.
Muskaan sat up straight. "Yes, ma'am?"
"What is so funny?"
Muskaan blinked innocently. "Nothing, ma'am. Just... appreciating the beauty of this detention room."
The beauty of this detention room?
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
Ms. Vividha stared at her for a long moment before sighing. "I don't have time for this. All of you, take out a sheet of paper."
We did.
"You will write, 'I will not disrupt class or skip lectures' fifty times."
Muskaan groaned. "Ma'am, that is so old-school."
Ms. Vividha smiled. "Exactly."
I sighed, picking up my pen and getting started. At least it wasn't maths.
For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound in the room was scribbling. I was on my twentieth line when I noticed Tejas pass a small folded note to Harsh.
Oh?
A secret note in detention? Interesting.
Harsh read it, grinned, and passed it to Armaan, who read it, smirked, and passed it to Muskaan.
Muskaan opened it, read whatever was written, and—
She gasped.
Like, full-on dramatic Bollywood heroine gasped.
I instantly needed to know what was in that note.
She passed it to me under the desk. I quickly unfolded it and read:
"We are sneaking out. Be ready."
Wait, what?
I looked up at Tejas, who winked. Oh my god. He's serious.
I immediately scribbled a reply. "Are you insane?" and passed it back.
He wrote something and passed it again.
"Yes."
Oh, for god's sake.
I nudged Niyati, who was too busy actually doing her punishment like a responsible student. I showed her the note. She read it and immediately shook her head.
Niyati Thakur was NOT made for rebellion.
But Muskaan?
Muskaan lived for rebellion.
And so, the plan was set.
We waited until Ms. Vividha got up from her chair to grab something from her bag. The second she turned her back, Tejas silently motioned toward the window.
Yes. The window.
Because, apparently, the door was too basic.
Armaan, being the sneakiest of us, was the first to move. He slid out of his seat, quietly opened the window, and climbed out. Then went Harsh. Then Tejas. Then Muskaan.
Then me.
Niyati, as expected, stayed in her seat, giving me a disappointed older sister look. I mouthed, "Sorry," before slipping out.
The second I was outside, I let out a silent cheer.
WE DID IT.
But just as I turned to run—
"Where do you think you're all going?"
Oh.
Oh no.
We slowly turned around.
And there she was.
Ms. Vividha.
Standing with her arms crossed. Looking beyond furious.
We were so dead.
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