Chapter 17

                                    

                                          
26th November 2018
                          
As a thumb rule, I don't look into mirrors. It was tiring, delirious and futile. How do you even expect me to face myself? It's not as if I'm gonna look in the mirror and think, You know what? This is good. I like this.
                          
No, shut up. That's Hallmark movie crap and we don't do that here. We avoid mirrors and all kinds of reflective surfaces. We absolutely, do not, take mirror selfies. Nuh uh. Nope.
                          
But if you're going into battle, you might as well have an armour that fits, right? One size for all wouldn't be as elegant as you think. And I was pretty sure I was walking into a battle now. A battle I couldn't afford losing. I also knew, a few people would be forced to take sides.
                          
As if on cue, my phone flashed up.
                          
From Sicko:
                          
I woke up at 6 A.M. for you. Better be on call. 9 A.M. sharp!
                          
I reply in affirmative. I open my casuals wardrobe and pull out a shirt. Free. Isn't that what I wanted to be? Its' not going to be easy, but gotta start somewhere. I shove the shirt back (I'll be yelled at for that, later)
                          
I open the other wardrobe and skim through the hangers. For a second, I touch the familiar leather. It's not cold enough, out there. I take off the hanger and push it to the end of the rack. I pull out my ACDC crop top. Boy, Kiddo would see red if he saw me wearing that. He hates crop tops. Which is exactly why I'm gonna wear it. I pull on my dark blue jeans and my Supernatural charm bracelet.
                          
I finally look in the mirror. Eh, best out of waste. I leave my hair open. And grab my canvas jacket and shrug it on as I hurry to the door. Mom stops me and puts my swiss knife in my jeans pocket and yells to tie my hair.
                          
*******
                          
"I don't like this."
                          
I huff in annoyance, "You're one to talk. I'm the one who's had to deal with all of this here."
                          
If Sicko woke up this early just to talk to me on call, there is no doubting his loyalty.
                          
"So how's it really been?"
                          
"Horrible." That's not even an exaggeration. Mom kept giving me sad looks all day. It was painfully evident that she was trying to be normal but it was awfully difficult for her. We talked a lot that night. She asked about the pictures I sent to Hardik and I told her the reason behind that.
                          
"How bad?" He yawns tiredly.
                          
I make my way towards the tunnel thingy on campus. End of October in Gujarat still wasn't cold enough. But after spending a year in Rajasthan and two in U. P., I should've expected as much. But delightfully, the weather was particularly windy today. I don't know if it's the Bollywood or what but I've always loved the feeling of hair flying all over the face. I was not fond of the tangles, though.
                          
I sit down on the low ledge and open my laptop. This was the way a lot of professors preferred and being the beginning of the day, everyone would pass through here. I did not wanna be looked at as an idle bimbo. I do have some pride. I guess. I hope.
                          
"Horrible."
                          
He groans over the line and I hope it's because of what I said and not just him going back to sleep.
                          
"So everyone is under the mom radar?" Sicko always respected my mom. Hell, he respected everyone's mom. Even Hardik's, who decided to take out the frustration of her fight with her husband on his son's girlfriend and telling the seventeen year old that she 'ruined her life' by 'trapping' their eligible son.