30. Books and First Impressions

"Okay, are you the studious nerd type because you said you love books?" Nishanth asked, teasing me with a tilt of his head. "Or are you someone who dabbles in everything just to stay mysterious?"

I laughed. "Well, most of the time you'll see me with a book or notebook. It could be a textbook, or it could be something fun. Novels, poems, even recipe books sometimes. I don't know if that makes me a nerd. But yeah, I do focus on my studies."

"Interesting," he said, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "So are you the good student who follows all the rules, or are you secretly the type who tops the class without studying, and everyone low-key hates for that?"

"Oh," I smirked, "are you one of those?"

He raised both hands. "Why? You gonna beat me up if I say yes?"

"No," I grinned. "But you know that type. The ones who never seem to do their homework, always joking around, and still magically get full marks. It messes with your brain. You'll be up all night revising, and they're just… floating."

"That's not magic," Nishanth chuckled. "That's just smart time management. You don't need to sit and grind ten hours a day. You study when you study, but when it's time to live, you live fully. What's the point of life if you don't enjoy it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, philosopher. I get what type you are now."

He grinned. "And what type is that?"

I pointed ahead. "The type who's gonna get both admiration and suspicion from the teachers."

As we reached the classroom door, he slowed down. "Hey, by the way… I heard that in this school, if a boy and a girl are seen chatting too much, people start assuming things."

I gave a dramatic gasp. "Oh no! Then I guess we can never talk again."

"Too bad," he said, pretending to pout. "Or… do you want to become penpals instead?"

"Penpals?" I blinked. "As in—writing actual letters?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, looking serious for a second. "I've always wanted a penpal. If you're interested, I might even write you one. If not, no pressure."

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. "Hmm… I'll wait for your letter then. Impress me."

He put a hand over his heart. "Challenge accepted."

"But," I said, holding up a finger. "If your letter doesn't meet my expectations, I won't be replying."

He laughed. "Brutal."

I grinned, gave a mock salute, and turned toward the classroom. "Good luck, Sir. May your words be worthy."

He gave a low bow and stepped back as I walked in. I didn't look back, but I could feel the smile still lingering on both our faces.

I know we're going to become best friends again, just like last time. There's a kind of magic in being with someone whose wavelength matches yours. When you're young, you don't realise how precious that is. But as you grow older, you understand how rare it is to find someone who truly gets you.

In school, I was always surrounded by people. I was a very social person. But during my post-graduation, and especially after I went abroad, it became harder and harder to make friends. I missed that easy connection—the laughter that didn't need explanation, the comfort of being known without having to say much.

And now… I've been given this strange, beautiful second chance. Coming back to my old life, going back in time—it feels like more than a rebirth. It feels like a blessing. I know the value of time now. I know how fragile life is, how fleeting youth can be. This time, I'm not going to waste it.

I want to plan my days, but also savour them. I want to be responsible with my time, but not forget to laugh, to play, to be present. Every moment matters now.

Nishanth had gone to roam around the corridor and returned after a few minutes, just to make sure no one got suspicious. In places like this—boarding schools, hostels—people notice everything. A boy and a girl talk for a little too long, and the gossip begins. "Do you have a crush?" "Are you committed?" "Is he your boyfriend?" If not that, the only other topic is, "How are your marks?"

Since we're away from our families, and the pressure of public exams hasn't started yet, most of us don't care too much about studies. Not yet.

In India, grades 1 to 5 are primary school, 6 to 8 are middle school, 9 and 10 are secondary, and 11 and 12 are higher secondary. In the 11th and 12th, you pick your stream. But people begin judging you well before that, based on your marks in the 9th and 10th, especially in science and maths.

Last time, I started slipping during those years. I couldn't understand some teachers—their accent had a strong Telugu influence, and I struggled to follow. And instead of focusing, I spent too much time having fun. When my marks dropped, my confidence did too. It was hard to bounce back.

But not this time.

Right now, no one's really focused on studies. Everyone will start panicking only by the 10th grade. But I don't want to make the same mistake again. This time, I'll concentrate from the very beginning. In 9th grade, most people worry about friendships, crushes, how teachers see them, or how popular they are. But I know now—those are temporary distractions. They don't matter in the long run. This is a new school, and I want a clean slate. No rumours, no silly puppy love stories. I want to keep things simple. Focused. Uncomplicated.

After settling in, I noticed Harini looking around a little anxiously.

"Where did you vanish?" she asked. "I searched the whole class and—surprise—you were hidden inside a novel!"

"I went to the book depot to exchange a few books," I said, slipping into my seat. "Some had printing issues."

"Printing issues?" Jai Harini looked surprised. "Aren't these brand-new books?"

"Yeah, they are. But that's the thing—sometimes, even new books have missing or misprinted pages. You need to check everything before you start using them. If you catch the mistake early, the school will exchange them for free."

Harini frowned. "But why should we pay if it's their mistake?"

"Because once you start using the book—marking your name, underlining, highlighting—they'll say it's been 'used' and won't take it back. So, if you only notice a printing error later, they'll ask you to pay for a new one. Maybe not the full price, but at least something. That's how administration works."

"But that's not fair!" Harini said, clearly annoyed.

I gave her a half-smile. "Nothing is fair in war and love. Welcome to school life. The system's not going to pamper us just because we didn't know."

Apparently, our little discussion wasn't as private as I thought. Students sitting in the front and back rows had started listening in. Amritha was already shaking her book and flipping pages, her brows furrowed. Prerna glinted surprise in her eyes. Lekha and Pavani looked just as intrigued.

I stood up. "Okay, don't waste time. I checked with the book depot earlier—today they're handling only 9th grade exchanges. If you find any issues, bring your checklist and the books. The staff will help you swap them without any extra cost, as long as you haven't scribbled all over them yet."

Just then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned and saw our class teacher smiling down at me.

"Good job, Nila," she said. "I didn't even think of reminding the class to check the books. I assumed it was common knowledge, but I forgot—you all are new hostelers. Thanks for stepping in."

She walked to the center of the room, clapped once, and the class fell into pin-drop silence.

"Everyone," she said, "please check your books today. If there are any printing mistakes or missing pages, take them to the book depot immediately. And if you have doubts, ask Nila—she's already gone through the process."

Suddenly, every single pair of eyes turned to me. The quiet intensity of the attention was almost comical.

I stood up slowly and raised a hand. "Hi, friends. I'm Nila. I didn't do anything major—I just noticed some issues and thought I'd let you all know. Please check your books today itself, or you may miss the chance to exchange them. Especially since we don't know how many spare copies they'll have."

Some students nodded in thanks. Others muttered things like, "Why would anyone check books on day one?"

I grinned. "Honestly? I was bored. I was writing my name inside and flipping through the pages. What else are we going to do when nothing's happening in class?"

That got a round of laughs. The tension eased, and soon, the entire class was busy inspecting their books. The mood shifted from serious to surprised to outright silly in just a few minutes.

And just like that, I wasn't invisible anymore.