St. Mark School, 2nd Floor
Aman, Kush, Mandeep, and Harsh reached the classroom door together.
They stopped just outside.
Inside, students were already seated. Desks scraped softly against the floor, bags rested against chair legs, low conversations faded as the room settled into its morning rhythm. Outside the door, the four of them stood pressed near the wall, catching their breath. Their chests rose and fell unevenly after the sprint up the stairs.
The clock inside the classroom ticked forward.
8:00 a.m.
Kush leaned slightly toward the doorway and looked in.
His eyes went straight to the row where they always sat.
Vedant was there. So were the others from his group. Relaxed. Spread out. Occupying the space like it had always belonged to them.
Kush pulled back, breath still uneven, and looked at the others.
"Guys…" he said, voice low, edged with frustration. "They're inside. Sitting there. Our seats."
None of them argued. Still, Aman, Harsh, and Mandeep stepped closer and looked in for themselves.
The sight confirmed it.
Harsh leaned back against the wall, jaw tightening.
"So… what now?"
Aman looked down at the floor, sweat gathering at his temples, disappointment settling in slowly.
"What else?" he said quietly. "We'll sit there again. Same place. No point fighting it. We were late. That part's on us."
Kush shook his head immediately.
"No," he said. "Don't do that. It's not on you. We were all late. Don't put it on yourself."
Mandeep took a breath, trying to steady the moment.
"Wait," he said. "Maybe we can talk to them. They're still our classmates. Maybe they'll move if we ask."
For a second, no one replied.
Then Harsh, Aman, and Kush exchanged a look and let out a slow breath together, as if accepting a decision they already
knew wouldn't end well.
"Alright," one of them said quietly.
They stood there for another moment, at the edge of the classroom, filling a space that didn't quite belong to them anymore.
The bell hadn't rung yet.
But something had already shifted.
They enter the classroom.
Vedant's group is sitting on their seats, laughing. Saurabh notices them approaching and leans toward Vedant.
"Vedant, look. The four beggars are coming. Probably to beg for seats."
Vedant glances sideways, a smile slowly forming.
"Watch this. I've got a gift for them today."
Saurabh nods.
Mandeep steps forward.
"Vedant…"
Vedant pretends to notice them just now.
"Yeah? What is it?"
Mandeep hesitates.
"We… I mean… we know it's our fault. We're late. But can you give us those seats?"
Vedant tilts his head.
"So you want the seats?"
"Yes," Mandeep says.
"We've been sitting on the broken seats and cracked floor for three months."
"You know the rule," Vedant replies.
"Yes. We all do," Mandeep says quickly, sensing progress.
"And you're our friend, so we thought you'd let us sit…"
Silence.
"…right?"
Vedant's tone hardens.
"So you want us to sit on those broken seats instead?"
"No—"
Mandeep corrects himself.
"I mean… just for today. From tomorrow, we'll follow the rules."
Vedant looks at his group.
All six of them laugh.
Aman, Harsh, Kush, and Mandeep exchange confused looks.
Vedant turns back to Mandeep.
"Seats? No. But I might have something else you'll really like."
Mandeep frowns.
At the same moment, Kush notices Vedant clench his fist.
He understands instantly.
Vedant steps forward, anger flashing, and throws a punch straight at Mandeep.
Kush shoves Mandeep aside and steps in front.
The punch lands on Kush.
The impact is too strong. He collapses to the floor.
The entire class goes silent.
Mandeep screams.
"Kush!"
Aman and Harsh shout his name too.
Kush groans, clutching himself in pain.
Vedant realizes he's crossed a line. To avoid attention or complaints, he forces a laugh, scanning for a way to shift the mood.
That's when he sees Kush's torn shoe.
Vedant grins.
He bends down, yanks the shoe off Kush's foot, and holds it up. Aman and Harsh freeze. Kush stares at his bare foot.
Vedant waves the shoe in the air, laughing loudly.
"Even their shoes are torn. Just like them. Completely broken."
Aman snaps.
"Vedant. Give the shoe back."
Vedant dodges him, tossing the shoe around mockingly, then throws it toward the broken seats in the first row, the same seats Aman, Kush, Harsh, and Mandeep have been using for months.
The shoe lands there.
Vedant shoves Aman back slightly.
"Move. Get out of here, beggars."
Harsh held out his hand to Kush and pulled him up.
The classroom hadn't gone silent. If anything, it had grown louder in a different way.
Laughter rippled through the rows. Not everyone, but enough. Vansh and his friends were laughing openly, leaning back in their seats like this was free entertainment. A few students avoided looking altogether, eyes glued to desks, pretending nothing had happened.
Kush steadied himself, his face tight with pain and embarrassment.
Slowly, Harsh and Kush walked from the narrow space between the third and fourth rows, the exact spot where everything had gone wrong, toward the last seat of the first row. Their steps were careful, measured. Aman and Mandeep followed behind them without saying a word.
As they passed Vansh and his group, something hit all four of them at once.
They had always counted these people as friends. Not close ones, maybe, but still friends.
Now it was clear.
They weren't.
Harsh bent down and picked up the shoe lying awkwardly between the seats. He brushed off a bit of dust and handed it to Kush. Kush tried slipping his foot in, but it didn't go all the way. He stopped, jaw clenched.
Harsh noticed immediately.
"Sit down," he said quietly. "I'll help you wear it."
Kush shook his head.
"No… it's not that."
He looked at the shoe, then away.
"It's not like I'm not able to wear it. I'm just thinking."
Harsh frowned slightly.
"Thinking what?"
Kush slowly pushed his foot into the shoe, forcing it in.
"That we thought everyone was our friend."
A pause.
"But the truth is… we don't really have any friends."
Harsh clicked his tongue softly, the sound sharp in the quiet around them.
"Listen," he said, lowering his voice. "Not everyone is like Vansh and his group. People are different. And anyway…"
He looked at the other two, then back at
Kush.
"The four of us are here. You, me, Aman, and Mandeep. We've been friends for years. That's enough."
He tried to lighten it, forcing a crooked
smile.
"We're the Toofani Dudes."
Kush let out a small, tired laugh.
"Yeah… you're right. Toofani Dudes."
Mandeep and Aman slid into the second-last seat, the one just before the last. The same broken desks. The same uneven floor they had been sitting on for months.
Mandeep turned back slightly and muttered under his breath,
"Today was a complete respect massacre, man."
Aman nodded, staring straight ahead.
"Seriously."
Harsh added,
"Yeah. We went to take seats and came back giving respect."
All four nodded automatically.
Then, half a second later, realization struck.
Kush blinked.
"W-wait… giving what?"
Mandeep replied, dead serious,
"Respect."
Aman exhaled slowly.
"We know what you meant, Mandeep. We're just reacting. But it sounds really wrong when you say it like that."
Kush added,
"Yeah. Think before you speak, Harsh."
Harsh finally processed it. His face twisted for a second, then he shook his head and tried to cover it with humor.
"Oh… yeah. My bad."
Before anything else could be said, the classroom door opened.
Ms. Diya stepped inside.
The room reacted instantly. Chairs scraped back against the floor as every
student stood up in unison.
"Good morning, ma'am."
"Good morning," she replied, calm but firm.
With a small motion of her hand, she signaled them to sit.
She placed her attendance register on the desk and adjusted her peach-colored power glasses. She wore a simple saree, the kind that balanced comfort with authority. Her long brown hair was neatly tied back. She didn't raise her voice often. She didn't need to. She noticed things. Completely.
She began calling names.
"Aditi."
"Present, ma'am."
"Rohan."
"Present."
"Saurabh."
"Present, ma'am," Saurabh replied quickly, shooting a sideways glance at Vedant with a faint smirk.
"Savi."
Aman stiffened slightly.
"Present," Savi answered softly.
"Vansh."
"Present."
"Lavika."
"Present, ma'am."
The register kept moving, page by page.
"Mandeep."
No response.
"Harsh."
Silence.
"Aman."
Nothing.
All three were staring ahead, eyes unfocused, trapped somewhere far from the classroom. Their bodies were seated. Their minds weren't.
"Kush."
Kush snapped back a second too late.
"P-present!" he blurted out.
The problem was, Ms. Diya wasn't calling his name anymore.
She stopped.
Slowly, she looked up from the register. Her gaze settled on Kush. She lowered her glasses just enough to see him clearly.
The room went completely quiet.
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
Kush leaned toward his friends and whispered urgently,
"Mandeep, Harsh, Aman… your roll numbers are gone. Say present. Now."
All three jolted back to reality.
"Present, ma'am," Mandeep said quickly.
"Present," Harsh followed.
"Present, ma'am," Aman added, a second late, but loud enough.
Ms. Diya made a small note in the register. Her expression stayed neutral, but her eyes rested on them a moment longer than necessary.
Then she moved on.
She closed the register with a soft thud.
Turning to the blackboard, she began writing. The chalk moved steadily, calmly. The sound filled the room. Too normal. Too quiet.
Without turning around, she spoke.
"Kush. Aman. Mandeep. Harsh."
All four straightened instantly.
"What kind of mischief did you four manage today?"
She paused, then tilted her head slightly.
"No… sorry."
She stopped writing and turned halfway, resting the chalk against the board.
"Not you four."
Her eyes moved across them.
"Your group."
She turned fully toward the class.
"The Tufaani Group."
A few students snickered. Someone coughed to hide a laugh.
Ms. Diya raised an eyebrow.
The laughter died immediately.
"Interesting name," she said calmly. "Very powerful. Very loud."
She placed the chalk down and folded her arms.
"But power without discipline always creates gaps."
The word lingered.
Gaps.
"Gaps in timing," she said, glancing at the clock.
"Gaps in attention," her gaze shifted to the four boys.
"And sometimes…" she briefly looked toward the first-row seats, then back,
"gaps in behaviour."
The class stayed silent.
Ms. Diya adjusted her glasses again, her tone still controlled.
"You four have potential. All of you."
A pause.
"But potential doesn't excuse patterns."
She picked the chalk back up.
"Sit straight. Focus. We'll talk after class."
She turned back to the board and continued writing.
But the room had changed.
Something had been noticed.
Something had been marked.
And once a teacher like Ms. Diya noticed a gap, it never stayed invisible for long.
Kush, Aman, Mandeep and Harsh are standing in front of teacher desk, when classroom is just quiet, empty and no student is there in lunch time while these four boys are talking to Ms. Diya.
Harsh spoke , his voice careful.
"But ma'am… we won't do anything stupid. Anything that could hurt us… or anyone else. It's just…"
He hesitated.
"Those seats."
Ms. Diya turned her chair back toward the desk. The faint softness on her face faded into something more official. She slipped the photograph back into her handbag and closed it gently, as if sealing that part of her life away again.
"I spoke to the principal," she said.
"He told me it will take time."
The words were simple, but heavy. Time, in a school like St. Mark's, often meant never.
"So for now," she continued, looking at each of them in turn,
"you'll have to wait."
A brief pause.
"And anyway," she added, her tone shifting just slightly,
"If you start coming early from tomorrow, you can sit on whichever seat you want."
The boys exchanged quick glances.
It sounded like a solution.
But it didn't feel like one.
Aman frowned.
"Ma'am… coming early won't fix the floor."
Ms. Diya met his eyes.
"No," she said calmly.
"But it will keep you away from it."
That answer sat wrong.
Kush noticed how she didn't say the problem would be solved.
Only that they would be kept away.
Mandeep leaned back slightly, lowering his voice.
"Ma'am… those tiles have been broken for years. Everyone knows that."
Ms. Diya stood up.
"I know," she replied.
For a second, there was something unreadable in her expression. Not fear. Not anger.
Recognition.
"Which is exactly why," she said, picking up her bag,
"I don't want you four testing your curiosity on school property."
She walked toward the staff room door, then stopped.
"One more thing," she added without turning back.
"Stay together. And stop assuming everyone around you is your friend."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Some gaps aren't accidents. They're left there on purpose."
And then she left the room.
The boys stayed seated, silent.
Outside, the bell rang.
But for the first time, none of them felt like going back to class.
The moment Ms. Diya disappeared inside the staff room, Harsh exhaled sharply.
"So what now?" he said.
"From tomorrow, I'm just supposed to not sit on those seats? Even if I have to sit on the floor?"
Aman shrugged, frustration slipping into his voice.
"But what can we even do except come early?"
Mandeep nodded.
"Yeah. Looks like from tomorrow, we'll have to."
Harsh, Aman, and Mandeep kept talking, but Kush wasn't really there.
His eyes were fixed on the corridor.
Students were walking past, but the crowd felt… thin. Too thin. Like something was missing.
Not just today. Yesterday too. And not by a small number.
A lot of students were absent.
"So many leaves?" Kush thought.
The question kept repeating in his head.
He was so deep in it that he didn't notice the hand on his shoulder.
He flinched and turned around sharply. Aman was standing there, confused.
"Kush?" Aman asked.
"What happened? You just went quiet."
Kush blinked, forcing a laugh to dodge the question.
"Huh? N-no… nothing."
"Y-you guys were talking about the seats, right? Yeah… seats."
Harsh and Mandeep exchanged glances. Something felt off, but they couldn't place it.
Suddenly, Kush looked toward the staff room door.
"I'll be right back," he said quickly.
"You guys wait here."
Before anyone could stop him, Kush started walking fast, almost jogging, toward the staff room.
"Kush— your shoe!" Harsh called out.
Too late.
Kush was already inside.
Harsh, Aman, and Mandeep moved to the corner near the wall and waited.
At that exact moment, another student passed behind them.
A girl.
She slipped into the staff room as well, unnoticed.
Inside the staff room, Kush walked straight toward Ms. Diya's desk.
She was eating her lunch.
"M-ma'am…" Kush said hesitantly.
Ms. Diya looked up, clearly not expecting him.
"Kush? Why are you here? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said quickly.
"I needed to talk to you."
A little distance away, behind another row of desks, the girl stood still, quietly listening.
Ms. Diya sighed softly.
"It's lunch time, Kush. We can talk after lunch, or even after school. And anyway, school will be closed tomorrow."
She said the last part lightly, almost playfully.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Kush said.
"But I really need to talk right now. I'll only take five minutes."
Ms. Diya studied his face for a moment.
Then she turned her chair, closed her lunch box, and rotated back to face him.
"Alright," she said.
"Go on."
Kush swallowed.
"Thank you, ma'am."
He hesitated, then asked,
"About how many students are there in our school? Even an estimate is fine."
Ms. Diya frowned slightly, thinking.
"Well… if I'm not mistaken," she said slowly,
"We have classes from 6th to 12th. That's six grades. Classes 9th to 12th have double shifts, and 6th to 8th have single shifts. Four sections each…"
She paused, doing the math in her head.
"So… around 800 students. I don't know the exact number, but roughly that."
Kush nodded.
"Oh. Okay. Thank you."
Then he asked, carefully,
"And where is everyone's attendance record kept?"
That's when something shifted.
Ms. Diya's expression tightened just slightly. Not alarm. Just awareness.
"Why are you asking these questions?" she asked.
Then, after a moment, she answered anyway.
"All official records are kept in the principal's room. Older files go to the storeroom."
She paused.
"But attendance records…"
"I believe those are kept in the principal's room."
Kush nodded again.
"Okay, ma'am. Thank you."
Ms. Diya didn't say anything else, but her eyes stayed on him longer than before.
And behind the desks, the girl remained still, listening to every word.
Somewhere beneath the school floor, unseen and untouched, the gaps waited.
Kush stood there for a moment, thinking.
Ms. Diya kept watching him.
Slowly, Kush's eyes lifted from the floor and met hers again.
She gave him a small look, the kind that clearly said, you can go now. I need to eat.
Kush nodded apologetically.
"Oh… yes. Sorry, ma'am, for taking your time. And thank you."
He turned and started walking toward the door.
Just as he reached it, Ms. Diya stopped him with her voice.
"What are you going to do with these questions?"
Kush paused.
Without turning fully back, he replied,
"I'll tell you soon, ma'am. If everything doesn't go right."
Before she could ask anything else, he rushed out of the staff room.
Ms. Diya frowned, confusion deepening. She stood up slightly, as if to stop him, but he was already gone.
At that exact moment, the girl standing behind the desks finally moved.
She realized Kush had left.
She glanced once at Ms. Diya, who had already turned back toward her lunch, unaware that anyone had been standing behind her the whole time.
Then the girl quietly slipped out
through the same door.
Kush stepped out of the staff room and walked toward Harsh and Mandeep, his pace quick but controlled. His eyes scanned the corner where they had been standing.
Something felt off.
Aman wasn't there.
Kush slowed to a stop.
"Aman?" he asked, his voice low but sharp.
"Where is Aman?"
Harsh shifted his weight and slipped one hand into his pocket. His shoulders tensed slightly, like he was buying time.
"He…"