Free Someone Like You by Nikita Singh, Durjoy Datta

are not embarrassed by it, we love each other and we like to show it in the precious life that we have. I know of friends whose dads beat up their moms, or their sisters or them, and I feel lucky to have a family that is perfect. We might live in a house with rotten plumbing, and drive around in a fifteen-year-old car, but we care about each other and I am very proud of that.
    Dad gets into the driver’s seat and I get into the back seat of the car. My phone is really irritating me now. I turn off the ringer and the vibration.
    ‘See? I told you,’ Mom says triumphantly as she locks the door and comes towards the car.
    ‘What?’ I ask.
    ‘You left your mobile’s charger. I asked you to check once again. What if I had not checked?’ Mom says. Don’t moms just love the I-told-you-so regime? I make a face at her as she takes the seat next to Dad.
    ‘Leave her alone. She’s leaving for such a long time,’ Dad comes to my rescue.
    ‘Yeah … I don’t know when I will see her again … When are your Puja vacations?’ Mom asks me.
    ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to check the schedule.’
    ‘Okay. Do that and let me know. I don’t like it here … without you. The house seems so empty … especially after Simran … I don’t know what I will do …’ her voice breaks and she turns her face away, towards the window.
    And then start the tears. It’s going to be another tearful farewell.



Chapter Eight
A New Search
    The train journey is long and boring, and I spend most of my time tucked inside the blanket with earphones stuffed deep inside my ears. Suddenly, I don’t want to leave any more; I already miss my parents and my old room. The excitement of joining a new college has given way to anxiety, and the Akshat incident is still not behind me. I just close my eyes and hope the journey will be over soon.
    I get off the train and look for a taxi outside the dusty railway station. Strangely enough, there are no taxi drivers clamouring to get my attention, like it usually happens at railway stations. I get myself a pre-paid slip for a taxi, read the number on the slip and look for the taxi.
    ‘Hey!’ a voice calls from behind.
    I turn around to find a guy with cute Harry-Potter-style round spectacles walking towards me, struggling with the huge bags behind him. He is really lean and not actually short, but his face (
oh, his face!
) gives him a very innocent and child-like aura.
    ‘Excuse me?’ I ask. He looks lost and barely keeps from tripping over his suitcases.
    Mom had asked me not to talk to any strangers but I’m sure she meant dangerous-looking ones. The guy in front of me looks like an eighth grader and is cute beyond measure.He reminds me of my neighbour’s four-year-old son whom I used to cuddle to bits.
    ‘Are you going to ICE too?’ he asks. His voice matches his child-like face. I notice beads of sweat on his brow and that he is panting.
    ‘Yes, why? Are you going there too?’ I ask him. I resist an urge to ruffle his hair, which falls droopily on his forehead and partially covers his spectacles.
    ‘I am. I was wondering if we could share a taxi. I was standing right behind you in the queue,’ the kid explains to me, and I can barely suppress a laugh.
    ‘Sure,’ I say and the taxi driver loads up our suitcases and bags on the top of the cab and binds them with a rope. The kid gets a little paranoid about the bags falling down during the journey, but the driver assures him that they won’t. The college is barely a ten-minute drive away from the railway station and for the first five minutes, we don’t talk. The kid is too busy trying to catch his breath and I don’t want to put extra pressure on him.
    ‘Tanmay,’ he says and thrusts his hand out.
    ‘Niharika. Are you joining this year?’ I ask, even though it’s kind of obvious.
    ‘Yes, Electronics,’ he says.
    ‘Oh, really? I am in Electronics too!’ I say and he smiles.
    We talk for a bit and we tell each other about our