“Still feels like a dream…” I said, raising my hand and feeling the fresh morning air as I looked at the clear blue sky through my unfurled fingers.

“It sure is. Getting into AFL is not everybody’s cup of tea. Just imagine, stepping into one of the most posh universities of the world. Wow! Just thinking about it makes me flooooat,” Aysha said, swaying her body with the wind.

AFL was one of  the top institutions for architecture, arts and business management. Its students were not regular boys and girls; they all came from super-rich, influential families. As a matter of fact, AFL was originally built for such people, but the management later decided to open five per cent of seats every year to scholarship students, as an opportunity for regular students to experience high-quality education. In reality, this was more like a charity, devised to portray a good image for the institution. To secure these reserved seats, millions of students competed every year in a scholarship exam conducted by AFL and those who ranked in the top were given the scholarship seats. Hence, getting these seats was no less than a miracle.

“Yeah, and the rule to make the campus premises off limits to outsiders makes it even more exciting,” I said, smiling.

By the way, I’m Trisha. A middle-class family girl, I live alone with my mom who raised me single handedly on the little income she made as a typist in a small law firm. As for my dad, he lost his life to cancer when I was just five years old. Ever since, mom has been the sole breadwinner in our two-member family, working extra hard to make ends meet.

The girl jumping with joy next to me is Aysha. She too is from a middle-class family, although slightly better off than mine. Her dad owns a small grocery shop in the city and her mom is a housewife.

Aysha and I have been best friends since childhood. We started out in the same kindergarten and grew up sharing our lunch boxes. Although we live at opposite ends of the city, our mothers became close friends thanks to our friendship.

Aysha is actually my only friend and is very special and dear to me. For someone like me who depends on hard work and buries herself in books sixteen hours a day, finding a friend is very difficult; nobody likes to spend time with a bookworm. Not Aysha though; she has stayed with me all these years and not just because she knew me from childhood but because she likes my company although our tastes and interests are entirely different.

Studying architecture at a renowned institution like AFL has always been a part of my dream, more like a rung in the ladder to my dreams. To Aysha it didn’t matter where she studied as long as she was with me.

“Tell me about it. I was soooo excited that I couldn’t shut my eyes for even a second last night,” she said, looking at me with baggy eyes. “You know, if it weren’t for you, getting into AFL would never have been possible.”

“Oh, come on; it was your efforts that paid off,’ I said with a smile.

“Nope. It is because of you. You spent night after night tutoring me, making it possible,” Aysha said, linking her arms with mine. “If  I had depended on my caliber, I would have got twelfth rank from the bottom of the list and not from the top. You know, since the day the results were announced, I ask mom to pinch me every morning, to check if I’m dreaming.”

I laughed as I looked at her.

“But when I saw your rank I was not at all shocked,” she continued. “I mean, you were born a genius. Getting first rank is not a big thing for you. You always come first. In fact, I would have been surprised if you hadn’t got first place in this scholarship exam.”

“I’m not a genius, Aysha. This is the result of hard work, hard work and more hard work,” I said, smiling.

“Well, you can say whatever you want, but I still say you are a genius and I want to treat my genius friend to the black currant ice cream she loves so much,” she said as her eyes fell on an ice-cream cart standing a few meters from us. Before I could say anything, she ran off, telling me to wait.

She will never change. I smiled to myself.

As I waited for Aysha, I watched the road. There were hardly any vehicles around.

It is too early for traffic.

Just then, I saw a guy with a racket in his hand and a cell phone in another, glued to his ear, crossing the road a few meters away from me. To my shock a truck was headed towards him without sounding the horn. I shouted, telling him to step back but he did not seem to hear my voice. He walked slowly, engrossed in his conversation, his gaze on the other side of the road. I ran towards him as the truck neared, still without sounding the horn. I increased my speed although I seemed to have reached my limit and just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it, I reached him and pulled him towards the footpath just before the truck could hit him.

I held my chest, gasping for breath. After a few deep inhales, I raised my head to give the guy a piece of my mind. As my eyes fell on him, my words drained away. I stared at him blankly, stunned by his looks. He was tall and had a very attractive face with a neat jawline. His skin was fair and flawless. He was wearing a dark red sleeveless pullover that accentuated his long neck and complimented his smooth, fair skin. He looked at me, scanning my face with his dark eyes as his straight, hazelnut-colored hair fluttered over his eyes with the wind. Suddenly, his gaze fixed coldly on my eyes.

“What? Haven’t you seen a guy before?” he said in a dry, arrogant voice.

I was taken aback by his rudeness.

“I just… I just saved your life,” I stammered, embarrassed to be caught staring at him.

“I never asked you to,” he said. “And how dare you touch me?” he jerked his arm and that’s when I realized I was still holding him.

Anger boiled in me and I was about to retort when Aysha came running up to us.

“What happened?” she cried, sounding tense. The guy turned away, without even casting a glance at her.

“I just saved this brat’s life and he is—”

“Sorry?” he glared at me. “Whom did you call a brat?”

I opened my mouth to answer but Aysha jumped in. “Hey, I know you,” she said excitedly. “You are Aryan Roy. God! I just can’t believe my eyes. I am Aysha. Please forgive my friend’s rudeness. Her general knowledge is reallyyy weak. I apologize in her stead,” she said. And leaning towards me, “He is Aryan Roy, the youngest son of the businessmen of India, Mr. Neelesh Roy” she murmured. “This is why I tell you to read gossip magazines once in a while. They are filled with knowledge, you know.”

I gave her an angry look and turned to the guy, “I don’t care who you are…,” I started but realized that his eyes were fixed on Aysha. Ignoring me outright on my face drew the last string. I gave him one final glance and stormed off.