Chapter 6: Bricks, Banter & Peppa Pig
The sun hung lazily over the school grounds, casting golden beams across the vibrant chaos of Day 1 of the fest. Stalls buzzed with laughter, games, and the mouthwatering aroma of food and overpriced momos. The music echoed off every wall, and students were scattered everywhere, soaking in the short-lived freedom the fest gave them.
After her performance, Veronica had slipped into her most comfortable outfit, the kind that said "I'm done being the school's official voice" and "Now I want fun." As promised, Vance and the gang were waiting for her near the basketball court, which had transformed into a mini fairground. There was something about seeing them all together that made her smile—Andy climbing fences for no reason, Josh chasing Nero with a water gun, and Vance… just leaning against a pillar, as unreadable and effortlessly cool as ever.
"Look who survived the stage," Vance smirked as she walked up.
"And look who still looks like he hasn't slept in three days," Veronica shot back with a grin.
He shrugged. "Math doesn't solve itself at 3 AM."
"Freak," she muttered playfully.
He leaned in just slightly. "I am Batman," he whispered like a confession.
She chuckled. "I want your autograph, Mr. Batman."
"Only if you earn it."
They roamed the fest in a messy, joyful group—laughing, eating food they couldn't finish, photobombing strangers, and occasionally losing Andy who had a knack for disappearing and then reappearing with a samosa and zero explanation.
Then they reached the Game Zone—a cluttered corner filled with carnival-style booths and games. The loudest, and most chaotic of them all, was the Brick Lift Challenge.
It looked stupidly simple on paper: lift a block of bricks tied together with a metal rod and hold it mid-air for 30 seconds. But the bricks were dense, and the bar was icy cold to grip. No one had lasted more than ten seconds yet. A crowd had already formed around it, mostly boys from the senior batch daring each other.
Josh nudged Vance. "Dare you, bro."
Andy whistled. "Yeah, Batman, let's see if you've got bat-muscles too."
Vance rolled his eyes but stepped up.
Veronica folded her arms. "I bet you'll last five seconds before whining."
He didn't respond. Just took off his hoodie and handed it to Nero like a warrior passing down his armor.
As he gripped the bar, the crowd started counting down: "3… 2… 1—LIFT!"
The strain on his face was barely visible. Seconds ticked by. 5…10…15… the crowd started murmuring. 20…25…
"Come onnn, Batmaaaan!" Veronica yelled.
At exactly 30, he let go with a dramatic sigh, flexed his hands, and turned around casually.
Everyone clapped. The booth guy grumbled and handed over the prize basket. Vance didn't even look—he just pulled out the most ridiculous item there: a Peppa Pig keychain.
He turned to Veronica, expression flat. "For the bravest child I know."
Veronica raised a brow. "Peppa Pig?"
Vance smirked. "Matches your vibe. Small. Loud. Slightly annoying."
She snatched it with mock offense. "I'll treasure it forever, you ungrateful rodent."
Josh cracked up. "That's love right there."
Nero deadpanned, "Better love story than Twilight."
They continued through the fest, teasing, laughing, eating, and for the first time in weeks, Veronica didn't feel the weight of anchoring or the echoes of her parents' taunts. She felt light—like the kind of girl who could accept a Peppa Pig keychain from a boy who solved math at 3 AM and called himself Batman.
She tucked the keychain into her bag, and as she walked beside Vance, she smiled to herself.
Sometimes, happiness looked like street food, ridiculous prizes, and the quiet comfort of people who made you feel seen—even if they hid behind sarcasm and superhero alter egos.