"If a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out."
Chapter Six
Hence, he did.
Amaira had a knack of favoritism and Karan was her favorite guy in class, he settled for a qualified species to get past her expectations of people, let alone males. She had a highly symbolic and unconventional regard of people, and found most creatures dimwitted, so the question whether or not they were likable did not stand abreast, generally. Many did not know she was affable, by all means because to uncover that, they had to shove past sarcasm-cookies she baked and darted on them, who happened to be her classmates.
Karan slighted a foul thought process, not in mere thoughts but in his always reflexive actions. As a spectator, one wouldn't do away with the humor his actions produced. When you know you will make it in Math this time, given the brightest student in class is sick, and the dreads you are stricken with when a third person who is no genius at all is being rewarded a lollypop by the teacher shall be sentenced the kind of sentiment Karan kindled in his classmates' souls. He was good for nothing, however only he managed to extract the good out of it all, of course for personal use.
Laurel and Mandy Johnson, the Christian twins had their bottoms contracted and placed in sync on a bleacher in the School Stadium and never noticed pee-in-the-pants brainy Parth sitting adjacently as they closely watched the annual unisex basketball match being played by the finest teams they'd ever happened to witness, the Radiant Lasses from House Pansy and the Republican Lads from House Daisy. Unisex wasn't about it, it was clearly a meant up and anti-chauvinistic slang enchanted by one fine jock or blonde, ages before any of them were born. Anyway, the slang was still in.
After Laurel and Mandy Johnson had resurrected the right job for their bottoms, they ran down the bleachers and shoved past the netted boundaries of the stadium to the basket ball court a few feet away. Although, they agreed the teams were the best they'd ever seen, they knew exactly why ' they'd never seen anybody play basketball outside school in the freaking first place. And they were up there to talk business.
"Professor Faisal wants grade eleven, section C in the auditorium in ten." Shouted Laurel, and how.
"Amaira, Rhea and Karan, it is mandatory." Screamed Mandy, in the loudspeaker she occupied from a cheerleader and no one knows where the latter fetched it from.
Amaira and Karan marched their ways out of the frenzied basket ball players, much before Rhea could manage her way out. She was tall, crookedly etched and smiling brightly at Karan and Amaira from a distance. Clearly, she wasn't a dimwit to Amaira because she let her embrace her, and it was only a hug of sorts. Then, Rhea slaughtered her way to her boyfriend, Kunal who was wearing a Republican jersey but obviously looked like a member who did not grace the court at the time.
"You do not want to air-hug, do you?" cried Karan.
"What makes you so miserable?" Amaira asked and punched him in the shoulder animatedly.
"The way you go around hugging people," he sighed.
"For once, use those beefy arms and touch people, nobody can be more contagious and unhygienic than you," he added and punched her in the stomach, not animatedly, with double the force she had applied.
After Amaira frowned and declared that she was just being toxic and she was never unhygienic, she and Karan chased each other up three staircases, one library of tattered books and gulped in all the air they could detect in the hottest compartment of the whole wing, the auditorium.
"Had mum been just forty million rupees older, I would have personally paid our school's electricity bills!" shrugged she.
"Dream on, and well ' dream on." Karan spat and ran his hand through her scalp, and pulled the rubber band down.
"Geez, this is sweaty." He wore a nauseated expression as he commented and threw the rubber band far and wide away, across half a meter's diameter.
"And I dun sweat daisies and I can smell anything for we are republicans," emphasizing on daisies and republicans, she pushed him and he picked her rubber band up out of the arena of sprawled bacteria and also, crimson ants. It was arduous to figure out who was who.
"There you go, and there goes one of my sense organs, dear Nose." He frowned and she fetched her rubber band.
She was barely done with the tucking of her blue and purple hair when she and her efficient classmate were found talking nonsensical pieces of trash by Professor Faisal, after all.
"Walia and Chopra, come here!" She mumbled in the microphone, as though Karan Walia and Amaira Chopra had cajoled her with sweet nothings into publically punishing them, and she was pleasing them against her will.
"You two, you are going to perform this scene here," Miss Adams, the white assistant of the drama teacher handed them the script and cheerfully explained to them how to receive punishment.
"Racist," Amaira whispered to Karan as she was reminded of the white tag he provided Adams.
"I am still crushing on her, doesn't make a difference," he muttered.
Amaira giggled and Karan hissed. For, the white tag was one of his shit-I-regret-it deeds. Gradually, Amaira giggled and so did Karan and they took their positions.
It was a scene from the novel Pride and Prejudice.
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"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Authentically, Fitzwilliam Darcy was a stern and inflexible man. As stern as vanilla custard and as inflexible as a belly dancer that Karan was, it was obviously a cakewalk for him to perform an intensely packed scene extracted from a novel that never ceased to amaze him, every time he was forced to shut it on its very fifth page. Amaira did not mind it and she had faith in Karan. One, she'd read Pride and Prejudice as many as two hundred and twenty-six times and Karan, was high-class an actor. Yes, it was only an act, did not imply on any of them.
The lights were all spotlights now, Amaira noticed them flashing on her and Karan. Flushed and pale, pale and flushed ' that was the kind of interaction Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy required, if at all they accommodated in Amaira and Karan respectively. It took them five minutes, not more and they became flesh and blood and even 'breath' actors.
"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you,"
The transformation of Master Quirky into Mister Intricate hadn't solely occupied Karan's brain, yes he was brainy. But his brain never often formulated those thoughts. What reasons could a lady have to hate such a smelly rich man?
"And this is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me!" disheartened Darcy embellished his sorrow with the conclusion.
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