001

A month has passed by. Indeed, a fast forward. That's how it would've been if I stopped thinking. There won't be anything else to write. It's just how it is. The last month can be explained for pages or can be walked over in a sentence. School is the same. Life is the same. Day and night are the same. Home is at its own pace. End of my story.

We got a week-long leave because it was always raining. That was one whole week in the five weeks of July. Kids were happy they got to stay at home, while I was stuck home with the Homecoming hero. Still, July feels so long! Maybe because it is in the middle? Yes, that's how it is – July is a drag.

The teacher comes in. It's the same drill again.

"Students, I have an announcement to make", he started, as he changed the dates on the blackboard.

"We are in the last week of July, so you know what it is?"

He stretched out the July part a bit as if it wasn't already long enough.

"It is the special activity time", he said that with such excitement that the class went full drop-your-heads-down mode.

“Now, don’t worry. We are not taking your weekend away. I have talked to the concerned people and got my own way of dealing with the activity. So, you can do it anytime and believe me, it will be fun.”

I don't know if I should be happy for the weekend or worried about leaving it in his dangerous hands.

“The activity this time is for the celebration of Friendship Day.”

OH, NO. What is it with people naming a special day for each day of the year? None of that ever goes well for me.

"Now here's the fun part. To cherish memories, and the love for your friends, you are all going to share your hearts with them."

No one understood, but most of them giggled when the teacher said the word love.

"Each one has to write a letter to a person of this class who you think is your go-to-go person to share your problems, or hanging out, to have fun with, or you know, in simpler terms – a Friend. The interesting part is, you are not going to write your name on the letter but just the name of the person you are sending it to, and you can write as many letters as you want. I believe there is more than one special person in one's life."

I’m done. I quit school. There were a lot of life-threatening words mentioned in his statement. More than one special person? Write as many letters? That too, IN THIS CLASS?

“Students are asked to submit their letters to me by tomorrow. Once all the letters are collected, I’ll distribute them before you leave home tomorrow.”

"But Friendship day isn't tomorrow. Why the hurry?"

All my life, I have been cursing the first benchers for their snobbish and insensitive questions. But this time, I'm on board with that person.

"We have some pressing concerns. That's why. Also, if you want it to be extended, you might have to sacrifice your weekend."

"NO", the most synchronous chorus you can ever possibly imagine. A classroom disagreeing in a united manner.

“Then it’s decided. That’s it for homeroom. I am keeping these envelopes along with colored sheets on the table. Take one for each letter you write. See you later.”

As soon as he left, the whole class got into a heated discussion. The boys on one side were giggling about which girl they are going to write to. Honestly, everyone is considering this as an approved way of writing a letter to a girl. And I highly doubt there would be anything related to "friendship" in it. Girls on the other side... well, they were giggling too. It makes more sense when I say they were all on one side, and I alone, who had no clue as to what to write or who to write to, was on the other side.

Talking about writing letters, I'm pretty sure Paper Bag is going to end up with a lot of letters. I mean, the guy has a rich dad, looks good, performs well, shows a pleasant face to everyone... even though they all have no idea that he isn't what they think. Maybe I got a competitor in my own class that could rival my level of pathetic-ness. Or is it pathetic-ity? But even he can write to someone because he has talked to everyone already! What am I supposed to do? All my interactions have only ever been academic. And since I'm a year older than them due to skipping a year, I don't really 'go well' with this lot. Not like it was ever smooth with my previous classes either.

Ahh…guess I have only one option left.

002

It is almost evening. I am on my way to the staff room. Same place. Same cabin. Same person.

The same smell of coffee.

“Excuse me, Sir.”

He turns towards me, holding a cup in his hand. It almost feels like he is always set in this position to appear cool whenever someone shows up to him.

“Here is my letter.”

“Nice. I didn’t expect it this early from you.”

"Early?" I purposefully came late expecting to have an unsuspicious submission.

"Yes, yours is the second letter. The first one was the first bencher's. Tell me something, is he obsessed with it?"

"I'm sorry. I don't even know how he looks."

"Oh, then it's fine. You may leave."

This is surprisingly short. Too short to a sense that it doesn't even feel right.

"Sir, your plan of...umm..this whole activity. You told that there were some pressing concerns? Is the weekend being a compulsory holiday the only thing that made you change the original plans?”

"Oh, the brilliant boy finds out first! Don't let this reach the ears of the first bencher."

I’m brilliant?

“Since you asked, I’ll tell you a secret. Come closer.”

For some reason, the "come closer" part didn't seem like something I would expect out of my teacher's mouth. I went one square tile closer to him.

"You see, there is a special offer on this rare coffee powder next week. I searched for it the entire town, and I can't trust online merchants. This is a limited period offer because they are only having a countable number of boxes, and it is on Sunday."

“Wow, really??”

"I know, right?"

I always wanted to tell him that he never felt like a proper teacher. Either he behaves like a detective who happens to know everything around him or an unpredictable ridiculous person like right now.

“I was never aware there were teachers like this.” I hope I sounded decent this way and also get to make my point.

"Don't overthink kid. A teacher is someone who can talk like a kid and talk to a kid, and knows the difference between them."

“Does it include teaching?”

“Of course, it does!” he exclaimed.

He totally got what I was implying. I just smiled at him and left. Maybe I should’ve written something to him. Oh, wait, what am I thinking?

When I just left the room, Paper Bag went inside. So, he is the third person, huh? I wonder who he wrote to.

The next morning, all the faces in the classroom were staring at each other, expecting their "Friendship" letters. Little do they know that this entire thing is a joke for our teacher to grab a coffee product.

The teacher entered with a bunch of letters and initiated the talk.

“Students, I have sorted out the letters according to your names. So, I’ll just call out your names, come forward and get your letters.”

He then called out each person, with many getting more than one letter. Very few got three, while Paper Bag got five. I was right.

I got one. Exactly one, as planned. I wrote an empty letter having my own name in the recipient’s space. It was better than reaching the awkward situation where the whole class looks at me and pities me for not getting a single one. More than the fact that I hadn’t got one, I couldn’t have stood their pitying faces.

"I forgot to say something. Few students took multiple envelopes from me and... I think that they decided not to write, at some point. But they still submitted the empty ones. It’s ok guys, I’m not keeping a count of the envelopes. So, I took out the ones which had empty letters inside them.”

W-H-A-

“It’s time to read. I hope you got letters from your expectations. That’s it for homeroom. See you later, guys.”

-T? Just let me finish for once. Kids in my class are actually surprised I got one. I am too! Well, I'm not keeping my hopes high. There is a chance someone might be playing a prank. Yes, don't get your expectations high.

I waited until the classes finished. I was walking the way back home. I took the envelope and opened it with anticipation. It read -

“Hey. This is me. Take a deep breath before proceeding further. Don’t worry, this is not a proposal. Probably more like a confession. The guilt of not being able to tell anyone is disturbing me. But at the same time, I cannot find the right person to share this. Before you jump into conclusions, let me clear it to you. My father beats me. Everyday. My mother beats me. Everyday. And I don't know who to say this to. Anyone who hears this would take the necessary steps to "save" me per their perspective, but I don't want that to happen. I may be scared, but I don't want to be rescued. I am afraid, but I don't want some outsider to affect the established routine of my family. This might sound crazy. It does. Maybe it became habitual. But it doesn't make the pain any less. Even though my father is a well-respected and inspirational person on magazine covers, and my mother is featured as the perfect homemaker... They are very different when it is just the three of us. It is not only getting good at studies, being perfect, getting prepared to carry on the family name and honour. They take off their stress on me! And it is one of them daily. If it is father who is angry for the day, mother shows her conditional love. Mother's punishment is less painful. But it affects me more than my father's. I feel safe every day when I am out of my home. Even if someone does suspect, the privilege of my family is so high that no one can get near them based on mere suspicions. They are very confident that I won't expose them either. I don't know if I am doing the right thing now. But I just wanted one person. Only one person to talk to. I cannot possibly speak to the students in the class. Not to the teacher or any other adult. But the teacher was sure something was wrong. He kept on approaching me and tried to comfort me. I kept silent. Then I got to know you. But I didn't know anything about you and then, I realized, no one really knew anything about you. I got to see a lot about you on Father's Day, before and after the activity. I saw you being pissed at me for the class sucking up to my father and me. I think I liked it. When everyone in the room was applauding me, the only thing that positively reached me was your anger. And I felt relieved from it. I was still confused as to whether to approach you or not. Then we met again, on the same day at the hospital. I said something weird to you. You just stood there listening to me. You told you can't understand the problems of the rich kids. I was not angry. No one would understand other's problems on their own. I had to make an attempt. At least for the sake of myself. I didn't know if you can stay silent like before even after reading all this. I am not sure, even now. This is the first time I’m going against them. So, it is kinda scary. Even if you don't want to understand; this very letter being the proof that I did something... That someone has read this, and it is because of you. Thank you for listening to me until here, friend.”

003

The letter had an endnote which said to meet at a particular place if I wanted to. It was near the school. It was a point from where you can see the right side of the school and our classrooms. There was a bench in front of the tree with no leaves but flowers around it. Obviously, I went.

He was sitting there right before me. I went and sat at the other end of the bench. I started without thinking much.

“I am sorry for saying that at the hospital. I know it helped you write. But I still am.”

He just smiled.

"Do you know about the body they found at the construction site near our school?" he asked.

“What? There are more things to the story?”

“Ah, no. I just thought of clearing the air.”

"Don't say such things out of the blue. I already assumed that it has nothing to do with the story. You don't get to change your character trait just because this is a new chapter. Humour isn't your thing."

“What did all your five letters say?” I continued asking questions.

“Two were from girls, and the rest were from boys who wanted me to stay away from those girls."

We laughed together.

“We are both definitely not like our father's, huh?"

“Huh?”

“There is something about me too. And my father. That day at the hospital…” I told him the entire story.

“Wow.”

“It was really a bold thing to do. Knowing almost nothing about me and stating that as a reason to write to me. You took a crazy risk. What if I reported it to someone?”

“I don’t know. I had written that too. I really had no idea.”

“We getting to know each other this way is too much of a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so. You forget one person here."

This time I took a moment before talking. How could I have missed him? The one who laid the web. The coffee maniac.

“Teacher?”

"Yes. He knew he couldn't get through me. But he wanted to help. He sought you to help me. I don't quite understand how he thought things through. The early meeting during Father's Day... him being intentionally late. I think he predicted things getting out of hand and made this activity as a last resort, hoping that I would open up to you. I also don't understand what he saw in you."

“Damn. So, he isn’t going to the store this week?”

“What?”

“No. Nothing. He’s been observing me as well. I think he does that for everyone. I’m sure he already knew I was lying about my father being sick as well. The only thing that he wouldn’t have seen coming was us meeting at the hospital.”

“True.”

“He is a cool teacher.”

“Sure, he is.”

“I know that you’ve mentioned this already. But I can’t stay quiet for a long time. Not after reading what you’ve written.” I came back to the topic while we were there for the same reason.

“So, you’ve chosen to use the letter.”

"Yes. But I am not going to do it unless you are in. It's as you said. You getting rescued might stop them from harming you, but that won't cure you. At the same time, I can't just keep quiet while I know all this. Sorry for again putting you in the tight spot, but that's what you signed up for."

"Thanks for understanding."

“Thank you, for choosing me.”

Ok. This is too much bromance to handle all of a sudden. Maybe I should see somewhere else and act as if I’m cool.

“Like Father, Not Son.” He shouted at the sky.

“Like Father, Not Son’s”, I shouted at the sky.

"Like Father, Not Son's", we both screamed together at the sky.

Bro-fist. I have a friend now, after all. It isn’t all happy meet. But we wouldn't have met otherwise. After all, people all have their own problems, crazy rich or not. That also connects people facing the problem as much as it causes trouble. On one end, we are a group of people having each other, supporting each other's back and all of a sudden it feels good even though the problem is still there. That's how it feels now.

We went on talking about different things. I also realized the basil herb that teacher gave on Father's Day represents both love and hate in Victorian's language of flowers. Now I totally feel defeated by that scheming troublemaker. No excuse, since flowers were involved and I still failed. I missed all his clues, and somehow it still turned out his way. But the problem isn't over yet. It has just been noticed.

“It seems like the sky is going to shout back at us. It might rain sooner.”

“Yeah, it does. Let’s leave for now.”

“Wait”, he then picked up a Paper Bag that he was keeping near his legs and gave it to me.

"I opened them, and it was-"

“It is Alstroemeria.”

No. Not you too!!

“Yeah, I was about to say that.”

"The flower of Friendship. Just like leaves which twist and twirl out from its stem; Much like the twists and turns in friendship.”

“I was about to say that too.”

A son's specific characteristic behavior can be expected to resemble that of his father. This considerable resemblance gave birth to the phrase "Like Father, Like Son". In a society where fathers are heroes for their sons and sons proud of their fathers, the story of us, young boys, led to flowers being delivered inside a Paper Bag.

The End.