Chapter 10: The Final Call

I held my breath, fingers crossed, as I pressed the button. The wires sparked slightly, but the screen flickered to life.

The familiar logo glowed, and I almost cried with relief. The classroom fell silent again.

I let out a shaky breath, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. For once, fate seemed on my side.

The air was thick with anticipation. Even the teacher stood behind, craning his neck to see.

My hands shook as I tapped through the menus, desperate to see that one message.

My stomach dropped. The inbox was empty, blank, as if nothing had ever been there.

A heavy silence settled, broken only by the whir of the ceiling fan. Everyone exchanged nervous glances, not sure what to believe anymore.

Sir smirked, “Kahan gaya message? Sabko bewaqoof banaya?” He looked almost satisfied, as if he’d known all along.

I tried to explain, voice pleading. “Sir, jab aapne toda tha, storage damage ho gaya hoga. Bahut saare apps bhi nahi chal rahe.”

He thundered, “Bas! Ab aur nahi chalega. Principal ko bataunga, school se nikalwa dunga.” His voice echoed, final and absolute.

His finger jabbed at the group around me. “Tum sab bhi punishment paoge!”

He glared at Raju, “Aur tu bhi—kaha tha na, nikal ja uske saath.”

Raju smiled, shaky but real. “Koi baat nahi, bhai. Bharosa kiya hai, aur karunga.” I blinked back tears.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Chalo, dono apne bag pack karo. Nikal jao. Kal apne maa-baap ke saath wapas aana, expulsion notice lene.”

Raju quietly zipped up his bag, shoulders hunched but determined. Not a word of regret.

My shoulders sagged, the weight of the bag nothing compared to the heaviness inside me.

I tried to keep the tears from falling. My whole body shook with anger and injustice.

The question echoed in my mind, pounding with every heartbeat. How could this be fair?

The guilt was almost worse than the anger. I’d brought him down with me, my only real friend.

He shoved the bag into my chest, voice ice-cold. “Nikal jao, tum yahan padhne layak nahi ho.”

My shoulders sagged, the weight of the bag nothing compared to the heaviness inside me.

Finally, the others in the class couldn’t help but start persuading:

A girl piped up, voice timid. “Sir, shayad sach bol raha ho.”

Another boy joined in. “Sir, ek chance de dijiye, expel mat kijiye.”

“Sir, nikalna zyada ho jayega, maaf kar dijiye.” For the first time, the class seemed to stand together.

He looked lost, hurt shining in his eyes. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he muttered to himself.

His voice was hollow, broken. “Meri maa ko bad-dua de raha hai, aur tum log uska saath de rahe ho? Koi socha hai mere baare mein?”

A ripple of irritation moved through the class. “Arrey, bas bhi karo!” someone muttered. The group was clearly losing patience.

It struck me how fickle teenage friendships are—one day together, the next, at each other’s throats.

He’d crossed a line, and everyone could see it, even if no one said it aloud.

Sir barked, “Ek shabd aur, toh sabko punishment milega!” Instantly, silence fell again.

I forced a grin. “Chhodo yaar, main waapas aaoonga. Tension mat lo.” It was false bravado, but it made some of them smile.

He snorted, “Agar tu wapas aaya, toh main sar ke bal khada ho ke padhayega, pair se likh ke dikhayega!” A few students actually giggled.

Raju caught my eye, gave a quick wink. In that moment, everything felt just a little lighter.

I held my head up. I would not let their judgement become my truth.

Raju’s faith in me was a shield against the world.

His arm felt reassuring, grounding. “Chal bhai, chalte hain.” We walked side by side to the door.

Raju squeezed my shoulder, his palm sweaty, but his grip steady. Outside, the sound of the bell felt like a taunt.

We were about to leave the classroom, but at that moment, my phone suddenly rang.

Everyone froze. For a second, even the teacher forgot to breathe.