The next day, the project was forgotten, abandoned on desks and crumpled charts. Nobody cared about glue guns, wires, or code anymore. It was council selection day, and the school buzzed like a hive on caffeine. Posters flapped in hallways, slogans scribbled in sketch pens, kids huddled in corners whispering predictions like gamblers betting on horses. Even teachers were smiling that tight little smile that said, This is all just a formality, but we'll play along anyway.
Di shoved the council form into my hand."Fill it," she ordered."Me? In council? Please." I wanted to disappear into the tiled floor. I wasn't a leader. Leaders spoke loudly, shone brightly, and marched confidently. I… took notes in corners. Still, with my friends ganging up on me, I scribbled my name onto that stupid sheet. My handwriting shook, my heart wasn't in it, but somehow—I gave the interview anyway.
When the discussion round began, my throat turned into sand. The auditorium was alive with whispers and restless feet. Candidates were lined up in front, rows of nervous faces pretending confidence. I was sweating like I'd run a marathon.
And then there was him.Akayy.
He sat like the stage belonged to him. Shoulders back, voice steady, words sharp. While the rest of us muttered and stumbled, he spoke like he'd been doing this his whole life. Not just answering, but questioning, pushing, even politely arguing with the principal about student freedom. The entire hall tilted toward him like he was gravity itself. I should've looked away, but my eyes betrayed me.
Di sat in the front row, legs crossed neatly, smiling like the crown was already hers. Everyone whispered she liked him, and she was the principal's daughter after all. With her mother sitting right there, the results felt stamped in advance.
Meanwhile, my new seat partner, Shree, stood confidently among the head girl candidates. Beside her, Kavya—another studious, active girl—waited with her perfect posture. At first, they both felt the same to me. But slowly, I noticed the difference. Shree had my kind of vibe, warm and a little messy, while Kavya was more… sharp-edged. Too close to her meant danger. Both girls sparkled with confidence I couldn't dream of.
Shree even made me sign a silly "agreement" promising I'd vote for her. It was ridiculous, childish, but it kept the whole class entertained, watching us argue over it like lawyers.
Voting day came, and the school lined up in nervous parades. Chalk dust and tension hung in the air. Whispers floated:"Vote for him, he actually speaks up.""She'll win, she's classy.""He's the only one who can stand against teachers."
When my turn came, I froze. My hand hovered over the keyboard, my brain yelling a dozen reasons to vote differently. But my heart? My heart chose logic could interfere. I voted for him.
Results day. The hall vibrated with suspense. The principal's voice echoed through the mic, calm but heavy:
"Head Boy—Akayy."
Thunderous applause. Whistles. Stomps. My chest twisted—half pride, half ache. I clapped too, palms burning, pretending not to feel the storm inside me.
And then—"Head Girl—Di."
Of course. She rose like royalty, her mother's smile mirroring hers. She looked at him, her eyes glimmering. The golden pair. Applause drowned the hall, the perfect picture framed on stage: him with his quiet smirk, her with her blinding grin.
Me? Well, I wasn't empty-handed. "Editorial Board In Charge"—that was my little victory. Not glamorous, but mine. Shree became Vice House Captain, though she looked crushed—last year she'd been House Captain, and this felt like a demotion. Kavya, on the other hand, was happily named Vice House Captain of her house, her smile wide and unbothered.
The titles were announced. But the real storm? That would come next week. The preparations, the chaos, the endless rehearsals. And trust me—it was a mess.