A week later, back at school, it was like someone turned the volume up, but only on the worst parts. Not the good kind of loud, there was no laughter echoing off the walls, just this undercurrent of low, slithery whispers. It all started the second Avyukta walked through the door. You know that feeling when everyone’s looking, but nobody wants to admit it? That. Except here, the looks weren’t curious, they were sharp, flickering, almost hungry. A couple of kids shot her these tight, unfriendly smiles that Said everything and nothing at once. Her chest clamped up before her brain even caught up with the situation.
And then, because fate loves irony, someone nearby piped up, not even bothering to keep it quiet. “She’s the one who messed up the project, right?” Like, seriously? Was he auditioning for the role of Town Crier? Another voice, louder than necessary, followed up, “Yeah, the whole group tanked ‘cause of her. Teacher lost it on them.” And just like that, it all snapped into place in Avyukta’s head, the weird tension, the snickers, the way everyone looked at her like she’d grown a second head.
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