Emerald drifted through the morning, a fog of confusion clouding his thoughts. Did that really happen last night? A vampire? Do vampires even exist? The questions swirled in his mind, a bizarre carousel of reality and fantasy.
Goutham was the first to approach him. "Oi, bro, what's wrong? Something bothering you?" he asked, concern etched on his face.
"No, nothing. It's just... never mind," Emerald mumbled, walking away abruptly. Goutham stared after him, surprised. Mr. Usually-Chatty just brushed him off without a word.
The morning lab session began, and a collective anxiety hung in the air. Everyone was hoping the teacher would somehow forget about the overdue record work. Fate, however, had other plans. The moment the teacher entered, her first words were a demand for the submissions. A wave of disappointment washed over the room, even the most diligent students exchanged defeated glances. But the real buzz wasn't about the undone work; it was about Emerald's strange behavior. His classmates were subtly watching him, whispering about his sudden quietness.
The teacher's patience quickly evaporated. "What were you shitheads thinking?" she exploded. "You thought you could breeze through the semester without the fucking record? I gave you two weeks! What were you all doing? Get out! If you want this lab so badly, bring the completed records first!" The class shuffled out, a mass of dejected students. Only one person remained seated. All eyes turned to him. It was Emerald. He had completed the record. No way. This has to be a joke, the collective thought echoed through the departing students, sparking a flurry of incredulous discussions outside the lab. Goutham wasn't entirely surprised; he'd sensed something was off with Emerald. But the other students stood frozen, like statues carved from disbelief.
The impossible feat became the central topic of conversation among the entire batch. How on earth did Emerald pull it off? "He must have worked day and night," Salmon declared. "Maybe he paid someone to write it," Erick suggested, but then a thoughtful pause. "But who would he even know to ask? There's no way Emerald knows a single person outside our class on this entire campus... unless... someone special."
After much speculation, the "great table meeting" concluded with a unanimous, albeit whispered, consensus: "He's got a girl." Hard to believe, yet no one could offer a more plausible explanation.
Emerald, the sole submitter of the lab record, felt drained, not from the work itself, but from the impending need to explain this unbelievable situation to his friends.
He stepped out of the lab to find his mates gathered under the ancient mango tree, its sprawling branches having witnessed countless campus tales over the decades. Erick, ever the curious one, asked, "Bro, can I see your record?" Emerald handed it over. The entire group huddled around, peering at the first page. They exchanged bewildered glances and began flipping through it. After a few minutes, they closed the record and looked at Emerald with utter surprise. "How?" someone finally asked. "Well... my sister was free... she did it for me?" Emerald offered weakly. Ananthu scoffed, "Bro, come on! How in the world could your sister write exactly like you do?" Emerald had only seen the first page himself. He hadn't expected the rest to be a perfect match, figuring any discrepancies would be overlooked. But when he'd submitted it to the teacher, she'd had no reaction whatsoever. He snatched the record back and quickly scanned through it. His face grew clammy. How could anyone write exactly like me?
A sudden cold breeze swept through the area, rustling the leaves and sending lightweight scraps dancing across the ground.
(To be continued)