I wake up realizing it was all just a dream. “Well, that’s how I thought I’d start my first story,” I said, chuckling. “But that’s not really my style. The story is still the same—just the scenario changes, and the way I’ll tell it.”

So, let’s continue.

My name is Sam. Every morning, I’d head to school at 9 am, fueled by the breakfast my mom lovingly prepared. But thanks to my coaching classes that ran from 5 am to 8:30 am, I became a master of speed. My house was only five minutes away from the school, and I’d sprint home every day, just to see how much faster I could get. I was practically an Olympian by the end of it.

Even during lunch breaks, Rash and I would race to the canteen. It was less about the food and more about the thrill of the chase. We’d grab a doughnut and then head back to class, but not before facing the real challenge: sneaking past the teachers.

Our school had this unwritten rule—no one was allowed back in class before the tiffin break ended. But Rash and I were rebels with a cause. The teachers would stand guard on the stairs, especially on the 4th and 5th floors. The 4th floor was a breeze, but the 5th floor? That was a different story. Still, with a little stealth and a lot of nerve, we always made it.

Our school had two buildings: the new one with seven floors and the old one with five. At the start of the session, we were in the old building, then moved to the new one, and finally ended up back in the old building by the year’s end. We changed classrooms thrice that year, and honestly, I still don’t know why. But the new building was pretty awesome, with fresh air coming in from all sides and a view that could make you forget about algebra.

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It was during this time that I failed my first test. But it wasn’t my fault—blame the substitute teacher. Kabi sir, our usual science and optional math teacher, had taken some time off due to some internal matter. The replacement teacher was a disaster, and most of us flunked. When Kabi sir returned, it was too late—the damage had been done.

Rash and I were always up to something. We didn’t fight-fight, more like we had these judo-like showdowns—except neither of us knew judo. Rash was huge, standing at 5'10", while I was a mere 5'4". Despite the height difference, I held my own. Most of the time, I’d end up on the floor, but hey, it wasn’t always me!

Rash, being the extrovert he was, loved to annoy people. It was hilarious to watch, but I’d always step in before things got out of hand. There was this one time, though, when Rash got into a “fight” with a senior. It was less of a fight and more of a hugging competition. The senior just hugged him and did nothing—probably trying to avoid a real fight. I swear, it looked like they were slow-dancing in the hallway.

Now, about Tulip. The whole talking-to-Tulip thing started when we were still in the old building. I was seated next to her best friend, Rose, and we had those awkward but funny interactions. Then, we got transferred to the new building, and things shifted. Kabi sir took some time off, and our seating arrangement changed. That’s when the real fun began.

One day, a classmate of mine, Addy, decided he wanted to prove he was as tough as Goku from Dragon Ball Z. He tried to punch Yath, who, in true Ultra Instinct fashion, dodged it effortlessly. Addy missed and slammed his hand into the tile wall in the toilet. The result? A broken hand.

Addy’s parents were doctors, so lying to them was no easy task. He later told us, "The doctor asked me how I broke my hand, and I said I fell down the stairs. But he didn’t believe me and kept saying it had to be from a fight. I almost got busted by my parents!"

We all burst out laughing at that one, imagining Addy trying to convince his parents while hiding his swollen hand.