I need to talk to you

The class hour was over, and everyone was jostling out. I was waiting quietly for the class to empty so that I could leave in peace. The teacher was at her desk, preparing to leave.

I got up from my seat and grabbed my sweatshirt from the table. I turned to leave when the geometry box that was there under the sweatshirt dropped to the floor, making the loudest possible noise. I looked at its contents on the floor and then at the teacher in the front of the classroom. She seemed less affected by the geometry box and more affected by my presence.

Through her nose-spectacles, she gave me a disgusted look and said, "Oh Ana, you are here! I need to talk to you. Meet me in my office after lunch".

What! What did she just say?

She said it in a tone so blunt that I doubt whatever she had to talk about was related to the bloody geometry box. She gave no time for me to react; she just walked out of the classroom. Well, I wasn't going to respond anyway.

As I bent down to gather the contents of the geometry box, my mind started replaying those words a million times in my head, "I need to talk to you".

Why on earth would anyone want to do that! Do you have things to say? Speak out! Spit the facts straight on my face. That's easier to bear than the suspense of what it could be.

This is not the first time I have heard this, and I know that this sentence's anxiety is more troubling than the actual conversation.

The brain's immediate response to this phrase from anyone is to try and recollect all the bad incidents with that person that you escaped without blame. The brain would then plot scenarios about how the person could have learnt about the incidents and how bad they could react. Actually, not bad, worst. The brain wants us to prepare for the worst. <rolls eyes at my brain>

Imagining all the bad that I could have done to her, I started to walk towards the cafeteria. Her lectures during which I dozed off, the partially completed assignments that I fit in between other classmates so that she corrects them carelessly, number of times I returned saying there was no chalk in the store when there were chalks just so that the chances of classes getting cancelled were increased. As time kept passing, my brain was losing it. It was starting to consider events that my usual self would know were very silly, and even if she figured it out, she would just ignore it with a chuckle. They seemed like serious trouble right now—for example, the day when I took a longer route to reach the classroom after the bell. The day I was disinterestedly staring at her when she was cracking a joke in between the prose, and her eyes caught mine.

This was driving me crazy because it reminds me of scenarios that I forgot but could spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E .

Like the time I signed the report card myself, the time when I pretended to faint to skip the annual exam and even the day I tripped Akhil down and fractured his hand. But no, it has nothing to do with him not inviting me to the party, it was an accident. Sure.

I was gobbling the food. It was my favourite dish; my mom had made it today after two weeks of requests and drama. And now I don't even have time and peace of mind to relish it.

I was now starting to feel, "let whatever you wanted to talk about be worthy" because I was sparing my favourite food for the issue. But a corner of my heart also wanted me to just get away with some silly point that panic the adults but is fun for kids. I wish it were something like, "Did you tell Rosey you cant include her in the game last week; she seems upset about it. Talk to her before the next games hour."

My heart by now is starting to have hope; it might even be something good. She sounded neutral and not accusing when she called me to her room. Right? Or am I deluding? It could even be me reminding her of her daughter, and she might want to help me with my academics. Maybe she wanted to give away the questions before the exam because she knew for a fact that I wasn't going to get any good score.

The anxiety was killing me, so I decided to stop between my lunch and walk straight to her office and ask what it was. Better to toil with sorrow and despair than anxiety.

With a lot of mental preparations, I pushed open her door and said in a feeble voice, "excuse me, ma'am" It came out softer than I expected, but luckily she heard the screech of the door and called me in.

"Yes, Ana, please come in. Take a seat."

Take a seat? Is it going to take long? No. Please tell me already what is it.

"I wanted to talk to you about..."

Yes, please, let it out. I want to know.

She raised her eyes from the laptop she was looking at till then, meeting me in my eyes. And my brain stopped wandering for the first time in the past one hour.

"An inter-school competition is being conducted this Friday, and we have selected you to represent our school. It is a creative writing competition, and you are supposed to create scenarios. I know you do a lot of that in your head, so I thought you would be the person for it. Just train on your English skills. All the best! You can contact me for any doubts regarding this"

She finished it with a teeny tiny smile, and I let out an invisible sigh. She probably still saw it because she laughed a little. I thanked her and left the room in a hurry, desperately in need of a change of air.

I came out of the hall and laughed out loud. I got back to my empty classroom and opened the lunch box, and the scene and her voice kept replaying in my head, and every time it came to the part where she smiled, I smiled to myself.