Chapter 1: The Chaos of Class 12-C
The hallways of St. Jude's Academy were usually filled with the sound of polished shoes and polite chatter. But as you approached the very end of the East Wing—past the broken water cooler and the trophy case that hadn't been dusted since 2015—the vibe changed.
This was Class 12-C. The "Junkyard." The "Disaster Zone."
"Aarav, if you touch my sketchbook one more time, I will personally ensure you never see your cricket bat again!" a voice yelled over the roar of a stray Bluetooth speaker playing a bass-boosted Bollywood remix.
"Try me, Amaya!" Aarav teased, holding the book high above his head.
The classroom was a mess of paper airplanes, half-eaten samosas, and students who treated the school uniform code like a mere suggestion. But the chaos came to a grinding halt the moment the heavy oak door creaked open.
The Arrival
A girl walked in. She wasn't wearing the pleated skirt like the others; she had opted for the boys' trousers, tailored slim, and a leather jacket thrown over her white school shirt. Her hair was tied in a messy, high ponytail, and a single silver hoop glinted in her ear.
This was Zoya. The Muthya—the heart and the muscle—of Class 12-C.
"Zoya! Tell Kavi to stop throwing erasers at my head!" whimpered Ishani, the resident soft-girl of the group, looking up with big, watery eyes.
Zoya didn't say a word. She walked to the center of the room, dropped her bag on the teacher's desk (which no teacher had dared sit at for three weeks), and looked at Kavi.
Kavi, a tall boy with a mischievous dimple, immediately froze. "I was just... testing gravity?"
"Sit down, Kavi," Zoya said, her voice low but carrying a weight that made the room go silent. "And Aarav? Give Amaya her book back before I make you do her math homework for the rest of the semester."
Aarav grumbled but complied instantly. Nobody messed with Zoya's "family."
The New Problem
"We have a problem," Zoya said, leaning against the desk.
"Is it the Principal?" asked Vihan, the class topper who had somehow ended up in the 'delinquent' section by a clerical error (or so he claimed).
"Worse," Zoya sighed, crossing her arms. "The Student Council President, Advik, just convinced the board to turn our classroom into a 'Quiet Study Lounge' starting next month. We're being reassigned. Split up."
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Class 12-C was a nightmare to the school, but to them, it was the only place they felt they belonged.
"They can't do that!" Ishani cried. "Where will we go?"
"Advik thinks we're a stain on the school's reputation," Zoya narrowed her eyes. "He thinks if he breaks us apart, we'll finally fall in line."
Zoya looked around at the faces of her chaotic, messy, brilliant friends. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face.
"But he forgot one thing. We don't play by his rules. If he wants a war for this room, we'll give him one."