It’s funny how one thing leads to another in our head

Aman walked around the Old Assembly Area. The assembly has just ended, and the 12th graders had moved towards the gate so they could go home- or at least that's what the teachers believed. He may've been working in the school, but, he was someone's son- the school’s Senior Adviser to be precise- and he knew what it was like to be a student. He was one himself not too long ago. He knew, though he didn't let on, that the 12th graders had all gone to the nearest hang out spot- a restaurant about fifteen minutes away that was swamped with customers every time there was an exam at this school. It served rolls and wraps, and after a long, strenuous exam, it was every student’s dream come true.

He was just about to leave when he spotted a bag. He hadn't seen it before because it had unintentionally been placed behind a pillar, making it invisible to anyone not in his exact position at that moment.  He walked over, sighing at the task that lay ahead of him- discovering the identity of the owner of the bag. He hoped it wasn't a girl - he wasn't in the mood to go through a girl's things again, having recently cleaned out his ex-girlfriend’s belongings from his apartment. There was a blazer on top of the bag. It looked new. The bag was a Nike. It didn't look very clean. He bent over. There were a few badges on the Blazer. There was a name too. Well, at least that's out of the way, he sighed with relief. He recognized the name. He knew the girl whose bag this was, and he didn't need to look at the batch to know she was a Prefect in the school, or that she had received a special award on the Annual Day just a few days ago. He recalled her being pretty, more so on some days than others. Every time he came out of his office and happened to run into her, she would be talking very loudly and animatedly to one of her friends- she never seemed to be alone unless she had been sent to do something for a teacher, in which case she would have some paper in her hand, and yet, she always seemed to be with the same people. Aman smirked at how much he seemed to know about her- he hadn’t thought he did.

He looked again at the badges and tilted his head to one side, deep in thought. He remembered another thing he knew about the girl. She had a sister- a sister who’d been in his year when he was at school. He remembered her as not being too active in school, and her sister has achieved such a reputation. He wondered if that caused a rift in their relationship, and, assuming that it did, whether it was a consistent rift, or just something that came up once in a while. Her sister hadn’t been a prefect, nor had she gotten a special award, nor had she made a name for herself. What a pickle, he thought.

He picked up the bag and walked over to the reception. The two student volunteers were seated there, looking bored out of their wits. The girl, who looked like she was in 9^th grade, was looking around uncomfortably, clearly looking for a way to evade this particularly responsibility, and with that, the company of the boy who sat next to her. This boy, probably in the same year, was not nearly as good looking or noticeably socially skilled as the girl, who looked like so many others her age, with the primary aim of looking stylish at all times, and mostly failing. He was talking to her, trying his sincere best to get her attention. So, he was still in denial, then. He was still under the impression that girls that age looked for brains over looks, intellect over charisma, grades over bad habits. Poor bloke, thought Aman, little do you know how few of these girls are actually worth your time. But, it’s just as much your fault. You’re just another one of those guys who looks for the best looking girls, eh?

“Hi, I found this bag out there,” said Aman, and tilted his head towards the Old Assembly Area. “The name’s on there,” he said, pointing at the badge, “give it to her when goes by.”

He nodded at the pair of them and left. The girl was noticeably saddened by this. Aman’s presence had forced the boy to keep quiet, and the girl was internally grateful to him for that. Aman wondered if it was, perhaps, because she found him attractive. He brushed the thought aside- not because he wanted to stop himself for feeling anything for her, considering what an infant she was in comparison to him, but because it didn’t matter to him. Even when she’d grow up, a girl like her would never appeal to him. And of course, she would always be so much younger than him.

He walked back to his office. He wondered suddenly whether he was making a fool of himself. Not because he talked to students out of the blue despite being 7 years older than even the eldest of them, nor because he wore baggy clothes, nor because he had a piercing and a tattoo, but, because after a wholesome school and college life, he’d ended up right back where he’s started- into his mother’s protection.

“What the effing hell am I doing with my life?” he said, to nobody in particular. “I’m cooler than this!” He looked sideward, right into the mirror he had there. “Right?”