As another week passed, another wave of life-threatening experiences had come and gone.
At this point in the year, everybody had sort of eased into the chaotic rhythm of life at Stupendous High and a time was approaching where reckless endangerment could once again be regarded as the new normal.
That is, for everyone except Veer-Rash Patel, the new exchange student from Mumbai High.
Earlier that day, Nevil had still recalled how the young man had an emotional crash-out during one of Mr. Wankerton’s most recent escapades.
He would have thought that Veer -as one who had admitted to living a mostly impoverished life for years in the ‘slummy part of Dharavi’- would not in the least be stunned by what impropriety this school had to showcase the outside world.
Yet, upon noticing how their carpentry teacher had tried to scrub off a callus on his foot with a wire brush and a can of paint stripper under his desk, poor Master Patel had lost the last of his composure.
“My goodness, man!” he had screeched in a thick Indian accent, clasping his temples with a look of shock. “What the hell is wrong with you, Man?!” As he stood and looked on from beside the teacher’s desk, he then proceeded to repeatedly smack his own head with the palm of his hand. Then, glaring at Mr. Wankerton as if he was stupid, he demanded an answer. “Are you an idiot or something?!”
The Portuguese teacher had jerked the brush out from under the table and pointed it at the boy. “Don’t you dare try to talk to me as if you’re my mother!” He had then redirected the dimethyl-soaked brush to point to the door. “I will not tolerate such disgrace in my class! Get out!”
But Veer seemed all too pleased with that edict. “Gladly, you incompetent nincompoop!” he had yelled and, at once, turned on his heels from the grotesque scene before him to march out before the silent class.
.
***
“I’m sorry about my dramatic exit earlier today,” Veer admitted on their walk to the school fields at the beginning of break time. “But that man…” the skinny Indian carefully remarked as he scowled into the distance, “that man is otherworldly…”
Nevil snorted with amusement, keeping in stride. “You mean ‘netherwordly’…”
“You think it’s a joke?” Veer scoffed with a look of suspicion. He shook his head and wagged his finger back and forth. “In my country, many people would’ve looked at him and believed they had seen Bhoot – a possessive spirit of the deceased who practices negative karma and evil deeds.”
“Doesn’t sound too far off,” Nevil remarked dryly.
They made it through the final red-brick passageway and slipped out of the main building into the open gravel.
Nevil still wanted to suggest a bench for them to sit on when Veer walked ahead onto the bustling sports field, never looking back.
When he seemed to notice the absence of his only friend, the young man turned back around and waved. “The field is so lush and green!” Veer called back. “Why don’t we take a seat?”
But Nevil stayed at the edge, just before the line where the gravel ran into the abnormally green lawn. He patiently shook his head and gestured for him to return.
Seemingly impatient, Master Patel hastily trod his way back across the lime-green grassiness and halted before him. “Why can’t we sit here, Nevil?” he asked with the large, curious eyes of an owl as he pointed to the lawn behind him. “The whole place is a perfectly good sitting area…”
Nevil nodded along, allowing his new peer to first speak his mind.
Admittedly, he could see the intrigue if he were the newbie standing across from himself.
The lawn was indeed beautifully lush, with an almost chemical-green radiance emanating from those freshly cut blades of grass. It did seem all too attractive.
And that’s how Nevil had known.
In nature, one is taught that if any creature is unnaturally colorful, it is probably dangerous. How easy hadn’t it then been for him to spot the only part of the entire school premises that appeared as flourishing, lively and colorful?
And as it turned out, his suspicions were later proven true. Regardless, Nevil wouldn’t make too much of a scene about his observations, mostly because he had no desire for drama- or attention, for that matter.
However, when poor Master Patel now brought an unknowing defilement upon himself, he figured it was time to intervene.
The man from Mumbai had developed a hint of disgruntlement in his voice, as one nearing the end of his rope. “I know I’m still new here at…Stupdendous Stupid…or whatever you guys call it, but can’t things just go my way for once?” he beckoned Nevil and raised a shaky, bony finger. “Just once, My Friend!”
“Okay, what do you want, Veer?” Nevil asked with a sigh, flicking a curl of hair out of his face.
“I want us to sit right there on the lawn and I want to eat my stupid samosas in peace, as far away from the crappy school environment as possible!”
Ironic that you would say that, thought Nevil.
That was when he pouted his lips in thought and casually looked past the man’s shoulder to review the sports field. “You like the green lawn?” he asked unassumingly.
Veer snickered, “Uhm, yes,” and shrugged his shoulders as if it were a dumb question. “That is why I suggested it.”
“Tell me something, Veer,” began Nevil but remained careful not to step over the gravel. “India also has beautifully green sports fields for its cricket tournaments, does it not?”
Suddenly, it was as if the man’s entire attitude had changed. “Yes, now that you mention it-” He turned back to view the field once more, a sound of fondness now in his voice. “Maybe that’s why I wanted us to sit here,” he remarked with hints of nostalgia. “I guess it reminds me of home.” Smiling, he turned back to face Nevil but before he could restart his plight, Nevil lifted a hand.
“And how exactly does most of your country keep its fields so… lush and green…despite rampant water shortages?”
Master Patel furrowed his brow and seemed to think for a moment, as if he were given a difficult Math’s sum to chew on.
Upon finding his answer, his eyes shot wide open with a look of recognition. “Well, my dearest Nevil, they-” then, his eyes darkened again…with a look of recognition. “They use sewage water to irrigate the fields…”
He slowly looked down and seemed to notice the gap between his water-soaked shoes on the grass and Nevil’s dusty shoes on the gravel. At once, he jumped off the lawn, “No man!” then grabbed Nevil by the shoulders, shaking him. “Are you serious, Man?”
It was all Nevil could do to give an exhausted laugh as he accommodated the man’s panic. “I tried to keep you off the grass, didn’t I?”
Veer’s owl-like eyes glared back and forth between the two of them, like a slow computer looking for answers.
But he found none that seemed satisfactory.
On end, he jumped even further away from the grass, disgusted anew. “No man! This is wrong, Man!” Veer looked like he wanted to implode from the emotional distress. “I came to this country to temporarily escape the struggles of my own, then I end up with you idiots and realize I had it better where I was!”
Nevil gave a courteous bow, “Welcome to Stupendous High,” and winked before reciting their school motto, “…where the grass is always greener.”
“Now we know why that is,” scoffed Veer and crossed his arms like a miserable toddler. “Everything at this school is crap. You all might as well appoint a dung beetle to be your mascot.”
Nevil stepped closer and patted him on the back. With a tired sigh, he diverted Master Patel’s attention away from the exotically lush and green field and slowly led him towards the cafeteria. “You seem so surprised about how terrible this school is, yet you’re the one who agreed to do the exchange.” He used this as an opportunity to answer a burning question he had since the man had arrived. “How did you not foresee this to be a troublesome experience for you?”
That was when poor Master Patel burst out in tears. “I was scammed!”
Nevil stopped them in their tracks. Upon considering the irony of it, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “What?”
Veer gasped for breath. “I was tricked into a fraudulent exchange by a telemarketing agency. They were supposed to target foreign customers with crooked deals but decided to go local for some reason…” He clasped onto Nevil for balance. “I never saw it coming…And that’s how they ended up convincing even me!”
Nevil patted him on the back. “What happened then?”
Veer sniffled, wiping away the tears as they landed on his cheeks. “Those crooks then convinced me I was buying into a ‘once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity’ at one of the most prestigious institutions in the country…even helped me book the flight to South Africa.”
Nevil helped him stand upright. “And what did they get out of it?”
The words seemed to pain Veer as they left his lips. “Insider information into my uncle’s rivaling telemarketing agency…” He burst out in tears again, nearly collapsing. “I’m sorry, Uncle!” he yelled into the air. “To think that they scammed a scammer…toppled your devious and brilliant empire…and used your own flesh and blood to do their evil bidding!”
Nevil rolled his eyes. “That sounds horrible…” He counted his words, trying not to sound as unsympathetic as he felt. “But your uncle sounds like a true entrepreneur…” was the forced answer. “I’m sure he will land on his feet again and eventually forgive you.”
“You don’t understand,” snickered the young man. “The scamming market is saturated in Dharavi. He’ll never regain his former glory and I-” he paused and sank to his knees, as if to feel the weight of his own words. “I have been excommunicated from my family. I’m stuck here the finish my time at this cursed school!”
“Wow,” snickered Nevil and readjusted his glasses. “It would seem there really are fates worse than death.”
“And that man…” Veer whispered between the tears, as if the pain stuck in his throat. “That Wankerton-teacher is probably the incarnation of an evil spirit- conjured up by my family to torment me, never letting me rest, denying me life and, at the same time, refusing me death…”
“Alright,” groaned Nevil and strained to help him upright for the last time. “You’ve clearly still got a lot of grieving to do,” he muttered and gave the man three rushed pats on the back. “Let’s get you to the cafeteria in the meantime, shall we?”
***
After buying his skinny new friend some food from the cafeteria, Nevil noticed that Veer now seemed to be doing much better.
He had speedily gobbled down the first bacon and egg sandwich, after which Nevil bought him a second one…and a third.
With both cheeks stuffed with food, Veer guiltily glanced up from his meal -like a bushbaby frightened by a sudden noise -and gave Nevil a quick smirk before resuming his feasting.
Nevil smiled back and nodded with approval. Whatever keeps your mouth shut…
Content with the peace between them, both young men sat at the table and did their part to keep the silence, all the while immersed in -but not a part of- the bustling noisiness around them.
Nevil couldn’t say that he was ever particularly comfortable at school. The overcast cold was now seeping over the concrete floor and slowly cooling the steel legs of the chairs they were sitting on.
Nevil’s buttocks had become both numb from the worn plastic sitting and cold from every time his legs accidentally brushed against the steel.
Throughout their time there, learners cheered, yelled, and grumbled around them, keeping to their own clicks and friend groups. At one point, an overweight stud named ‘Chungus’ bumped his way past them.
His belly was too big for his blue button-down, so it never properly tucked into his gray pants. Neither was his collar big enough to properly wrap itself around his fattened neck, so it stayed open with a loosened, worn-out tie dangling thereabout for show.
He waddled his way past the tables, issuing half-hearted apologies as he bumped everything (and everyone) out of place.
When he reached their table, it was no different. A quick “sorry” came right before his belly bumped Veer over the table and into his plate of food.
The table jerked askew and all the cups, cold drink containers and sauce bottles toppled over.
As he helped remove the egg from his friend’s face, Nevil saw the rage burn in the young Indian’s eyes. “Just let it go, Man,” Nevil whispered low and gestured to him to remain calm.
Most people feared this freckled redhead. It was Chungus’ second year repeating matric, so he was significantly larger than most of his peers. In addition, this slug of a man had little patience for anyone challenging his ‘authority’ or demanding anything of him- including basic hygiene.
Of course, then, it was Nevil’s surprise when the scrawny Master Patel jumped up from his seat and yelled after him with an indignant Indian accent. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Man?!”
Oh dear, thought Nevil as Chungus stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around.
“What did you just say?” asked the ginger with a fiery look in his eyes that brought silence to the whole cafeteria. Before anyone could answer the silence, the ginger marched himself back, bumping even more tables and chairs from his path.
To everyone’s surprise, Veer-Rash Patel doubled down. He grabbed for the toppled bottle of ‘extra-spicy’ tabasco sauce and went to meet him halfway.
Standing a head above the tiny man, Chungus’ double chin bulged forth but refused to let him lower his gaze all the way.
Veer stepped in right against his belly. Glaring up with those bulging eyes, he raised a single, bony finger that he waggled back and forth before the redhead. “Trust me, My Friend, when I say this…you do not want to mess with me.”
Oh boy, thought Nevil and slowly stood up from his chair. He wasn’t about to interject himself between the two and figured that if the mighty Veer, misguided as his bravado was, wanted the beating of his life- he’d have to get it by himself.
Nonetheless, he wouldn’t leave his new friend high and dry and thus decided to hastily sneak away for some ice behind the cafeteria fridges- Veer would need it.
Upon returning with one of his socks stuffed with crushed ice, he came upon the scene. To his dismay, he noticed they were still at it.
“Boy…” boomed the big Chungus in a squealy octave as all the onlookers surrounded them at a distance. “Don’t mess with me. I’ll pummel you back to Pakistan before you even realize what has happened.”
Every time he spoke, his belly bulged and bounced Veer a little bit backwards, before the tiny man jumped up to him again. “First of all,” began Master Patel, clearly infuriated. “I’m Indian, you dumbass…”
Quit while you’re ahead, prayed Nevil as he limped closer, having removed his one shoe. Please…
“Secondly, my friend,” continued Veer, his voice a threatening whisper, his bush-baby stare almost maniacal. “You don’t know me, you don’t know where I come from…” He raised the bottle of spicy sauce and held it before his face. “I will find where you live and drown you in the burning sauces of…Tabasco. As your family stares on, they will watch you beg for a quick release…but you will find none.”
Chungus seemed taken aback.
He broke the stare, as if to regain his bearings, but Veer remained fixated on him.
It looked as if the Indian’s burning eyes were ready to deep-fry this fattened bull of a man before him, if only his religion allowed him to eat cattle.
“This is not over,” answered the ginger, hesitantly, before slowly turning around and bumping his way out of the cafeteria- a dramatic exit if Nevil has ever seen one.
Veer held his ground, center stage, before the cheers of the crowd eventually calmed him down.
Nevil broke through the circle of applauding peers and limped his way to him. When he reached the man, Nevil gave him a pat on the back. “Well done, seems you finally got something to go your way after all…”
Veer slowly turned and looked up to him. His one eye twitching, the man from Mumbai let out a nervous wheeze. “What the hell did I just do?”
Nevil snickered in amusement. “My dear friend, I believe you just told off one of the biggest bullies in the school.”
Upon hearing the words, Veer slowly dropped his head and noticed how his legs started to wobble beneath him. He quickly grabbed Nevil’s shoulder for support; his voice wrought with apparent disbelief. “What have I done?”
Nevil supported him with his free hand and started guiding him out of the cafeteria. “It’s like joining a prison, don’t you think?” he said, amusedly, dangling the soggy sock filled with ice before them both as if it were a weapon of sorts. “They say you should always pick a fight with the biggest, baddest brute on the block…it’s a way to assert your dominance.”
“Oh no,” whispered Veer, jerking his head from shoulder to shoulder. “I know nothing of dominance. I’m as fickle as a chicken bone.”
“Well,” chuckled Nevil as they made their way back alongside the lush green fields. “It seems you’ll now have plenty of opportunity to practice defending your honor, won’t you?”
Veer looked up at him, like a frightened squirrel. “My Friend, I need you to give me strength in this moment of fearfulness. You realize that man will crush me finer than curry powder…”
Nevil gave a reluctant sigh, pushing them along, “Probably…” and raised the sock of ice once more. “But at least I’ll be in your corner to help deal with the aftermath. He can’t knock out all of your teeth…”
Veer furrowed his brow. “You’re very reassuring, you know that?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Nevil, shaking the crushed ice from his soggy sock and resenting the fact that he would soon have to walk with a wet foot for the rest of the day. “It seems we’re both suffering now, aren’t we?”
As they walked to class, Nevil promised to try and help Veer get a spot in the school dormitory that same afternoon. At least then poor Master Patel would have some safe lodging until he could find a way out of his predicament…and the country.
