The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

intentionally. The surrounding crowd forms an aisle from which Viktor disappears. Loud mumbling commences with the word ‘teacher’ being uttered more than once. Not wanting to be caught in the fiasco, students immediately start to disperse away.

  “Nice show.” Ray smirks, smacking the back of my shoulder.

  I simply smirk. I nod to my friends as they jestingly talk. Then I turn away, picking my bag from the floor.I start rummaging inside my bag while walking away. Looking for something inside the bag is only a pretense. I do not want Ray and his ‘close buddies’ to start walking along me. Again, I do NOT dislike them. They are a part of my friend circle. I sit with them in the classes and the cafeteria, and even hang out with them. But I like to maintain a certain space, which everyone has come to respect, so none of them ever force me to be by their side all the time. Also, they all are attention magnets. Where Ray and his minions go, the crowd inevitably bends in that direction. And I suppose I have grabbed enough attention for one day already.

  By the time the teacher; Miss Gills, I notice; enters the corridor along with one of the school guards, I am already exiting it. I look back once and see that the crowd has severely thinned, many having escaped from the other end of the corridor. Suspiring, I turn back and resume my walk. My peripheral vision informs me of a presence walking right beside me. My steps falter out of a little surprise and I turn my head to look at Neal casually walking along with me. Sensing my gaze, Neal lifts his head sideways and grins. It comes off more as a smirk.

  “Never thought that I’d see the day.” He says, still smirking.

  I huff, but feel a smile creeping on. He is definitely talking about my blatant show. Since I always ensure to never be in the limelight, today has been more than a surprise.

  “Did I give a good enough show?” I ask sarcastically, grinning.

  “You have no idea.” His smile widens. Then he tilts his head and looks at me curiously, “I never thought you had it in you, to be honest.” He admits.

  I hum. He is definitely not the only one who must be thinking so.

  “And I believe everyone thought so too.” He voices my thought.

  “He shouldn’t have been bullying the kid.” I mutter, sighing.

  “There are many things people do that they shouldn’t be doing.”

  Of course. Who would know better than Neal about the wrongdoings of everyone in school? His job description requires him to be acutely sentient of everyone around. I have heard people always wondering in awe, regarding how Neal has knowledge of every person in this school. With the information he spills in The Plutocracy, it’s nearly unimaginable for someone to possess that degree of information. Unless he stalks every single person in this school at a personal level. Which is again, unimaginable. But even with the seamless pool of information, I have never seen Neal excessively demeaning anyone in his paper. Sure, he mentions some humiliating things about the students, but they are usually mild. We are teenagers, so everyone tends to take even that ‘mild humiliation’ as something of a very big deal.

  We walk down the corridor, towards the door of our school building. Since the school day has ended, very few students are lingering by.

  “So…” Neal drawls out as we reach the doors, “Do you, like, take training or something?”

  We pause and I turn to look at him, frowning, “What?”

  He shrugs and thrusts his thumb over his shoulders to the inside of our school building, “That didn’t seem to occur by luck.”

  Oh.

  I find myself chuckling, “Is this an interview going on?”

  He rolls his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I simply raise my eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes again, “Can’t I ask a friend about his fighting techniques?” he says, shaking his head, “Not everything coming out of my mouth has to be about my paper.”

  I lean against the door, assessing him, “Okay.” I drawl, “If I tell you, would you take care to not put it in print?”

  He gives me deadpanned stare, “Lichinsky, if you’re so insecure, you don’t have to tell. I can take a rejection.” He laughs humorlessly at the end.

  Yeah, he probably has never been denied information. Especially if the information could be conducive to a proficient enhancement for the informant. And yet, I know that Neal can take a refusal. Much better than some of the people I know. Neal and I aren’t close friends. Only two years back we used to share two of our classes and have since developed a friendly acquaintance. It’s not like he can demand things out of me, though I am pretty sure that is not how he gathers information for The Plutocracy.

  Sometimes I wonder why Neal maintains a cordial acquaintanceship with me. I am not complaining; he is a good company. But I have never seen him even remotely interacting with anyone in my friend circle, apart from me. For all I know, he despises people in my friend circle. Yet, he is enough friendly with me. We don’t make it a point to interact daily, but a wave when in view and a few words once a week is our usual tirade. Yet, Neal hardly ever mentions me in his paper, except when it’s along with my soccer team about a sports event. And I believe he appreciates the fact that I have never expected more from him either, even though I have had loads of opportunity to request him so.

  “Is it that interesting?” I ask him. Because though we have talked in the past, it has usually been about studies or soccer or weather. Sometimes even vaguer topics. I don’t see why he should be interested in my ‘fighting abilities’ all of a sudden.Provided he is not looking for info for his paper, which he declined.

  He shrugs, “You seem to know the pressure points well. The back of the neck…” he rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly looking around, “the junction between the shank and the knee…” he absentmindedly brings his hand to the side of his wrist, “the wrist…You were probably not putting as much strength as it looked like. I was just wondering if you’ve been taught.” He shrugs again.

  I take several moments to let that sink in. Then, “How do you know about pressure points in a fight?” I exaggerate the last five words and ‘you’, making it come out as an accusation. Really, no offence to the guy, but Neal certainly doesn’t seem the type who’d even know the F of fighting. He stands merely at five feet, eight inches or so and has always been amongst the studious bunch. The top A level student, the ones who can never even think of indulging in a fight lest scar their perfect resume. He is someone who people would call a ‘pretty boy’, owing to his lack of display of machismo and still making girls squeal ‘cute!’ at his sight.The type who do not fight or play sports, but are nerdy, suitable for bench work. I don’t know if he even has any muscle on him, as he is always wearing baggy, oversized clothes.

  His left eyebrow crawls for his hairline at my condescending tone, “I can’t know a bit about combat?”

  I take another moment and then straighten myself up. I sigh, “Well…I don’t take any sort of fighting classes from anyone. Not in the literal sense.” I mumble the last part. He frowns at me, but before he can raise the query I am expecting, I interrupt with one of my own, “Why did you want to know?”

  He shrugs nonchalantly, “I was thinking of taking some defense fighting classes…not specifically judo or something,” he rolls his eyes, “Just any fighting technique. I thought it’d be better if I had a reference.” He rubs the back of his neck again.

  “Why?”

  “Just like that.” He brushes me off.

  “No one’s bothering you or anything, right?” I ask. We may not be close friends, but that doesn’t mean I can’t offer help if someone’s bothering him.

  He raises his eyebrows in amusement, “Who would? Viktor?” he says with sarcasm and laughs. Yeah. Who will be stupid enough to stand against Neal and be bad mouthed publically in the school paper? Neal holds more power than anybody in this school. “Don’t worry, man.” He continues,“I just want to learn for myself.”

  “You could join the school’s taekwondo team.” I suggest.

  Neal im
mediately gives me a dry look and I know he is thinking of Viktor who is the captain of the taekwondo team. He then sighs and shakes his head, “I don’t have time for school activities…I already have the burden of The Plutocracy and the council meetings in school. I was looking for something on the weekends…” He sighs again, loudly this time, “Anyway, thanks.”

  I shrug and then nod at him, “Well, then, I’ll see you later.”

  He nods and turns back to walk away abruptly, “Watch out for the paper.” He says, walking away, with his back at me.

  “Do not exaggerate!” I yell.

  He raises his hand to let me know that he has heard me. I see him disappear towards the parking of our school. I sigh and continue towards the gates of the school grounds. As a lot of time has elapsed since the end of the school day bell, there are hardly any studentsin view. Only one guy comes in my vision, standing at the school gates. He is taller than me, by an inch or so, something he never fails to rub in my face. But he is lankier than me. I watch as he stands awkwardly next to the gates, diligently waiting for me. I deliberately slow down my pace, giving him more time to get ticked off. But even at such a large distance, he senses me and turns his face in my direction. Amazingly, his face is lined with concern instead of irritation. That’s my best friend for you.

  “Everything’s fine.” I say when I am ten feet