t w o [ b o o k m a n i a c 1 2 ]

I RAN MY COMB FEROCIOUSLY in an attempt to make my unruly brown hair to just stay there in my trademark quiff. What effort it took to show my perfect quiff to the outside world was a secret I can't let you guys know. Like, ever.

"C'mon..." I muttered as I worked on my hair.

And guys, before you go and assume that I'm a girl just because I'm obsessing over my hairstyle, let me tell you, I'm a proud boy who is obsessed over hairstyles.

What? Guys care about looks too, y'know? If your guy says he doesn't, run a thorough background check cause you can openly doubt his honesty.

Swear babe, swear.

At last when it looked somewhat closer to the quiff that I had in mind, I brushed the stray hairs from my red and khaki chequered shirt.

Swinging my almost empty backpack over my shoulder, I walked out of my room, my tie dangling around my neck in an awkward tangle.

In olden days, my Gramps said that you've to 'win' over a fierce oxen if you want to 'win' over the hand of your favourite girl. If my future potential daddy-in-laws think that it would be awesome to determine the groom with their tie tying skills then I can safely say that I'd die a bachelor.

Yep, I'm that skilled.

"Ma, tie it," I said, bending my head to my mother's level who was in the kitchen talking with our maid.

Chuckling at my obvious unlucky tie tying skills, my mother did my tie.

Kissing my forehead and wishing me a morning greeting and luck, she handed me my breakfast.

It was the first day of school here in my home town. Well, it's the first day of school for me. It had been officially one and a half months since school started around the state.

After a hurried breakfast and trying my utmost best to evade my father's genuine offer of a ride to school, I finally wore my black polished shoes.

But in the end, my father won and he started his ostentatious Jaguar XF to drop me at school which, by the way, is two blocks away from my home.

Talk about showing off.

"Appa, don't look at me with those googly eyes as if this is the first time you're seeing your kid go to school," I groaned burying my eyes in my palms as the kids who were entering the school gawked at me and my father's car (especially my appa's car but it wouldn't hurt a teenage boy to assume that it was his looks that indeed got the attention right? No? Okay).

"But it's actually the first time I'm seeing you go to school after eleven years, kiddo," he said, shooting me a proud smile as if I was walking through those huge gates mounted on those thick stone pillars to get my high school diploma.

"You're embarrassing me," I said, hitching my backpack a little higher trying so hard to just escape while my father was lost in his proud father moment.

"Yeah, I love you too," he said with an eye roll and suddenly grabbed me in a headlock and ruffled my hair.

Oh my freaking god, he certainly did not—

"That took me almost half an hour to do!" I shouted as I swatted his hands and hurried to look at my reflection in the car's window.

Shit.

The bird nest was back.

"Time for Mr CEO to leave," I muttered, pushing my father towards the driver's door.

He chuckled but didn't make any attempt to stop me.

Once he was sitting in the driver's seat with the seatbelt on, he looked at me with a smile.

"I know why you came back, kiddo," he said and I stared back at him, partly confused and partly feeling exposed, "good luck finding her, son."

"Appa!" I hollered as warmth crept on my cheeks and my ears started burning.

Ah, curse this damn blushing syndrome of mine!

Shooting me a cheeky Cheshire cat grin, he was gone.

He was kind of right when he said that I came back for a 'her.' But what he didn't know is that coming back, the 'her' turned into 'them.' Number one was Kiranya. Technically speaking, I don't really have to find her because I know her house. But every time I go, the house is always empty so maybe, I really have to find her because let's be practical, the last time I saw her was when I was six and even though films and books show that the lead kid's flashbacks are awesomely clear, I don't even remember her face. And the only photo I have of her is near to ruins. So it's not like if I see Kiranya in a huge crowd, lightning will hit me when she crosses me.

Number two was BookManiac12. I know her face (wow, one good thing) but I know nothing about her name and whereabouts. Even though I keep saying 'my dear small town', my town is not exactly small. Its population according to the 2011 census was sixty one thousand, five hundred and thirty three people. So let's say that finding BookManiac12 is like finding a pin in the haystack.

Near to impossible.

Rubbing a tired hand over my eyes I made my way into the school. Though students were treading here and there, it was almost deserted.

Since I already came here during the admission, I knew where the office was.

Several people were working behind the counter, a computer in front of each of them. A man was standing behind a xerox machine, heaps of paper beside him. They all had the same boring expression as they continued to type god only knows what, on their computers.

No one acknowledged me.

"Uh..." I cleared my throat and the lady seated somewhat near to the door looked up, piercing her hawk-like gaze through me. And I knew without a doubt that she was judging me because her eyes kept looking at my hair and my heterochromic eyes.

Talk about intimidating.

"Yes?" Hawk woman asked.

"I'm new here. Varun Subramaniam."

I slapped off my severe urge to add 'ring a bell' to it. Hawk lady didn't seem like the friendliest woman out there.

Without any response, her eyes clicked something in the computer and her eyes ran across the screen.

"Oh the rich brat," she muttered under her breath but I could still pick it out.

It wasn't like this was the first time I heard these words but even if I hear it on a familiar basis, it still sucks like the first time. Sometimes people forget that rich heirs are also normal kids. Just because someone is rich doesn't mean that suddenly we become obnoxious brats.

I didn't feel like thanking her for her 'service' but reminding myself that I can’t get down to her level, I spit out a half swallowed 'thank you.'

I walked through the corridors, reading the signs on the top of the class. I was assigned to XI A.

X A, X B, X C, X D . . . ah, there it was. XI A.

Without even thinking, I opened the door.

About 50 heads, including an almost bald teacher, stared back at me. Scrutinising me.

"Er . . . good morning," I mumbled out with a slight bow. And please, don't ask me why I bowed. I just did.

The teacher nodded. "How can I help you?"

I flashed him a polite business-like smile. Thanks dad.

"I'm new here, sir. Sorry for coming late to class. The procedures in the Office took quite some time."

Yep, calm confidence is the first step when you're a transfer student.

The teacher nodded yet again and gestured towards the class. It didn't miss my eyes how his eyes narrowed a little when he noticed my eye colours. "Introduce yourself to these brats."

"Sir, we aren't exactly brats, you know," someone shouted from the back and I was surprised when the teacher actually smiled.

Alrighty then.

Turning to my 'new' potential future best friends, I gave my best playful grin. When I saw some of the girls nudge each other, I grinned mentally. Sometimes heterochromic eyes help with looks, y'know?

No? Okay.

"Hey guys, I'm Varun," I said as I moved my eyes slowly from one face to another, trying to make an impact. "I live here but I did my previous schooling in a boarding school called Riverside since I was six. Before one of you questions my sanity, I'd like to say that the difference in my eye colours is not a result of contact lenses, but in fact, of a condition called Heterochromia iridi—"

The words in my throat died when two inky black eyes stared back at me, indifference colouring those eyes. Chin resting on one palm which was supported on the desk, sullen lips were in the place of the huge cheeky grin that first got my notice.

She looked a little older than in the picture which was obviously taken when she was about thirteen or less. But it was still her.

Without warning, my legs took themselves to the girl's desk and before I even knew what I was doing, I had taken her hand in mine.

Words I didn't know were framed in my brain came out before I could stop.

"Wow, it really is you," I whispered, my hands shaking hers so frantically, "pleasure to finally meet you, BookManiac12."