half-girlfriend-chetan-bhagat

6
She entered my room and I slammed the door shut behind us.
My room was furnished with the bare necessities—a bed, a desk,
an easy chair and a study chair. The walls were lined with certificates
and pictures.
‘So many certificates,’ she said as she scanned them. They began
right from the inter-school tournaments I had won in class VIII to the
one I had for participation in the national games. (My team from Bihar
had come eighth.) ‘And are these photos of your friends?’
‘Those are friends from my old basketball team,’ I said, standing
behind her. I stood close enough for her hair to touch me. We had
never been alone together before.
‘How about family pictures?’ she said.
I opened my study-table drawer. I took out a photograph of the
Dumraon Royal School’s annual day. My mother stood on a stage
along with students in red sweaters.
‘Your mom?’ she said, holding the picture.
‘She’s the principal.’
‘You have more pictures?’
‘Not really,’ I said and rifled through the drawers. I found another
black-and-white photo, but hid it.
‘What is that?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Show, no.’
‘It's a childhood picture.’
‘Oh, then I definitely want to see it.’
She charged towards me.
‘No,’ I protested and tried to shut the drawer. She laughed, and
tackled me like she did on the basketball court, treating the picture like
the ball.
On the court our occasional touches meant little. In the room, her
jostling me felt electric. I wanted to grab her tight, but didn’t. I didn’t