Synonymous with Stupid.

When I was in school, I was one of those kids. By those I mean the ones that were neither here nor there. I know that sounds like I am bisexual. But I'm not. I think. Anyway, I was one of those people who was never remembered for some cool trait or strange quirk. You'd think that being an active member of the culturals club would change that, but no. It didn't. Don't get me wrong, people knew me. And that's about it. I was never associated with anything. I was never the class topper, the art freak, the notorious criminal. Nothing. If I must describe school in one word, it has to be "average". I drifted through school-life with below average looks, average grades and above average friends.

So you definitely understand my surprise, mingled with shock at the loud applause that greeted me on that monstrous Monday morning. It was the Monday after our excursion to a certain theme park. The mood in general was a mixed bowl of disappointment and excitement - disappointment at the end of an epic excursion and excitement at the prospect of sharing pictures and recollecting the fun stories. I entered my classroom thinking about how the chutney I'd had for breakfast could've been a little more spicy, when I heard the deafening sound. I looked up, slightly confused and turned around, wondering who they were clapping for. I looked around the room for....lets call her Traitor for now, my one chance at an explanation. My then-best-friend was sitting in the second row and staring at me, her face ridden with guilt and an expression that then reminded of a scared puppy. Focusing all my attention on walking to my seat without running into the awkwardly-placed pillar, I walked like nothing was happening. After I sat down and dropped my bag to the floor, I turned to face Traitor.

"Umm, what's going on?"

"Uhh...I'm....."

"Ray, what's up!?"

"They know. Shradha, they know."

For about 15 seconds I heard just the cat calls and whooping. I was looking at the Traitor as she sat beside me, fiddling with the Dexter pencil I'd given her for her birthday, two weeks back. 

Oh crap.

For those of you who stuck around till this, the story is a little strange and definitely proves that stupidity is synonymous with your's truly. We went to a water theme park on our excursion. And after jumping like an electrocuted maniac in the wave pool, the Traitor and myself decided that we'd had enough. We wanted to change. I was to wait at the plastic palm tree near the pool, while she went to the little girl's room, changed and then switched with me. That was the plan. So I waited. And waited and waited and waited. It had been 4 minutes dammnit! Thats it. Imma be going to change now. I walked quickly, because I didn't look as hot as I'd have liked in wet clothes, and ran into the first enclave with a restroom sign above it. Imagine my horror when I saw a bunch of boys standing just outside and changing into dry shorts. 

Any normal person would've stepped out, checked if they were in the wrong room and then proceeded to doing whatever the appropriate thing to do was. But me? No. I, being the self important ass that I am, decided in a matter of seconds that I COULD NOT be in the wrong room. How dare these fools of the meaner gender occupy OUR restrooms to change? I started screaming and yelling at them, asking them what they were thinking, and that they were going to be in deep trouble. My bag was flailing about in my arm, hitting the wall beside me, when I heard the Traitor shout out my name. I turn around to see her with her hand covering her mouth, horrified. I was just about to ask her where the hell she went when I saw it. Right behind her. A HUGE green board that said in plain and clear English - GIRL'S BATHROOM, with that ugly mnemonic of a bald girl. 

Shit. 

I swiveled around and walked across to the other side, pretending like nothing had happened. Had it stopped there, it wouldn't have been too bad. But one of the boys followed me. He tugged at my bag, one hard tug. Terrified I turned around to find a fairly tall boy, in shorts and a white t-shirt, standing right in front of me. I inhaled and broadened my shoulders a little bit, my defense mechanism on the ready - to run like my life depended on it. He stretched out a long and surprisingly muscular arm with a torn piece of paper on it. I was almost sure it was a threat of some sort. I looked up at his face. No expression at all. And I wanted to whack my head with a brick, because all it could register was how cute he was. I looked at his hand and took that piece of paper with a trembling hand. He couldn't possibly think I was cute! Well, you never know. Before I could open it, he was gone. I turned around and found the Traitor dumbstruck. I opened the torn and folded entry ticket.

No he didn't think I was cute. He didn't give me a number or anything. It said, "Are all girls idiots like you?" Not only did I embarrass myself, I brought shame to my entire gender. I looked up to see the entire lot of them looking at me and laughing their heads off.

After swearing never to talk about it, EVER, I threw the paper away and we left to find our classmates and the rest of the trip was uneventful (except for Ms. Caroline's snoring at the planetarium. That was good fun!)

Back to cruel reality, I turned around and saw a group of them still laughing and pointing at me. One of them waved their hand at me. I was going to give her the "WhatEVER!" look when my heart stopped for a split-second. She was actually waving at me a torn and crumpled ticket that looked strongly familiar.

Raaaaaaay.... Gaah!

Traitor indeed.


Post Script: There were pictures, by the way. That's right. The Traitor actually took pictures while the mean-ass cute fellow gave me the note. And the story is only partially true. Which part isn't, I ain't gonna tell! :D