A Few Hundred Poppies

9. Happy Dust

I eyed the yellow sticky note lying on the floor of my locker with interest. Glancing down the hall in both directions, I found nobody suspicious amid the green-and-white clad students and thus picked up the paper in my palm to get a better look.

With immaculate timing, Ever decided to show up and snatch the paper from my grasp, making me yelp in surprise. He used his height to keep the paper out of my reach, and read it aloud. "Jo ek lad kee ko deikha toh ayza lega? What is this?" His scrunched up brows relaxed when he looked over my head and waved to somebody. As I turned to see who it was, my stomach did a somersault.

West's hair was visibly damp as he ran his hands through it, his features fresher than ever. When he'd strolled over to us, Ever eyed him mischievously and made to hand him the paper. "Ever Richards, don't you fucking dare," I tried to catch hold of it, but West managed to snatch it from Ever's grasp as I was inches from it. I facepalmed.

"Jo ek ladki ko dekha toh aysa laga...My my, Aditi, you've got an admirer." I managed to redden. He called me by my first name, score!

"I'm sorry, does this make sense to you, West?" Ever cried, looking very lost.

"It's the lyric of a Hindi song," he replied, smirking. "Somebody's got a crush on Aditi."

I glared at the pair as seriously as I could with my head at a 50-degrees elevation. "Whatever. But there's, like, nobody brown in this school other than me and you, I don't know what to think."

Ever was still adorably confused as he waved his hands around, trying to make a point. "But how come you guys know Hindi? You're Bengali, Adi, and didn't West say that he's Pakistani?"

I let out a small laugh. "Dude, you don't spend 16 years jamming to Bollywood songs and not learn a new language."

"And, uh, Urdu and Hindi are pretty much the same, so," West added, scratching the side of his neck. Shrilly, the morning bell rang out across the EA hallways, leaving students to scatter to their classes. Ever muttered a 'shit, I'm gonna be late' and hurried off.

West fell into a line beside me as I strode on. "Please tell me your feet hurt like hell too," he casually muttered, gaze fixed forward. 

I smiled, remembering the preposterous dance moves we both had dished out last night. "Be grateful that you can feel them."

West laughed lightly. I fell a little more.

-

At Miss Flaxen's English (which West had been bunking since his first day), I clicked my tongue annoyedly when my mind kept wandering back to him in the middle of Brutus' speeches. Maybe I'm forgetting the fact that he doesn't like me back. Besides, I said it myself last week: he's not my friend.

But then again, we're on a first-name basis now. And he laughs now, for God's sake.

I quickly grabbed my book and my glasses and shoved them inside the bag as soon as the bell rang out, signalling that lunch had begun.

Entering the cafeteria, I found everyone at our table waving a tad too enthusiastically at me, except West whose wave was adorably awkward as he shoved a fry into his mouth. My stupid friends are gonna make it obvious. They were arranged so that I'd have to sit beside West - which couldn't have been a coincidence. I slid in beside him.