"Don't say a word, you monster."
Harsh stood in the center aisle of the school bus, shirt clinging to him like a wet paper towel, eyes blazing with betrayal. The bus hit a bump, but Harsh stayed locked on Daksh like a dramatic soap opera hero mid-season finale.
My little brother? Oh, he was just chilling in his seat, legs crossed, sipping juice like this was a beach vacation.
"You were the one who asked me to do that," Daksh replied coolly, not even looking up. "If anyone's a monster here, it's you. You're the one who wanted to 'test the seal.'"
"I meant the bottle cap, not my entire existence!" Harsh snapped, water dripping from his bangs onto the floor. "I look like I wrestled Poseidon and lost!"
Around us, the other students were in full silent-judging mode. A few tried to hide their laughter behind notebooks. One kid near the back muttered, "That's what you get for sitting next to Daksh."
And me?
I was sitting across the aisle.
"Can you both just... not fight at the first day of this new session?" I muttered, "It's too early for this level of hydration-based violence."
Harsh turned to me, dramatically.
"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be ambushed by your own water bottle?"
"Yes," I said. "Because this is the third time this week."
Daksh gave me a thumbs-up. I did not return it.
Our little friend group— four girls, three boys, chaos on wheels—was scattered across the bus, pretending not to know us while absolutely living for the drama.
Our little friend group was peak chaos on wheels, the bus's unofficial headline act.
The certified backseat gremlins.
There was me, Navya—default narrator and reluctant peacekeeper.
My little brother, Daksh—chaos incarnate, always up to something he'd deny three times before lunch.
Harsh—our neighbor's kid and Daksh's partner in pranks, petty crimes, and general disaster.
Palak—Harsh's little sister and the only one who could roast him without consequences.
Red Pie—our other Daksh, face permanently red, probably from suppressing the urge to punch someone.
Drishti—Red Pie's cousin, smart, savage, and somehow above all of us, despite choosing to sit with us.
Aradhya— But we don't consider her as an official member of our group but its fine. At least we have someone to make fun of.
And Anav—He was a new member as he joined the bus few days ago part of the gang, already chaotic, already plotting, no introductions needed.
So yeah, the back of our bus was crowded with four girls, four boys, a hundred dramas, and a truckload of 'don't mess with us' energy.
We all sat in back of the bus but in different seats but as the bus goes crowed we came to sit next to each other.
I slid into the second-to-last seat on the left, my usual spot beside Palak, who was already making faces at Harsh somewhere behind us. The bus rattled and groaned, packed fuller by the second.
On the right side, Drishti found her place next to Aradhya in the matching second-to-last seat, their quiet conversation almost drowned out by the growing noise.
Behind me and Palak, the infamous trio—Daksh, Red Pie, Anav and Harsh—claimed the back row like kings of the world, their laughter bouncing off the windows.
The bus might've been crowded, but in those few seats, we were exactly where we belonged—together.
But now, we were sitting separately as the bus was not crowed.
Annoyed with their every day drama, I looked out of the window. I found that we were on the way to pick Anav.
The bus slows down as we reached Anav's pick up point.
The doors creaked open.
Anav hopped on first, flashing us that usual smirk—like he knew something we didn't.
"Yo," he said, already making his way toward the back.
We barely blinked. Standard Anav entrance.
But then came the plot twist.
Right behind him was a new kid. Not new to Earth, obviously, but definitely new to our bus. Our zone. Our sacred chaos temple on wheels.
He looked... chill. Too chill. Like he hadn't been warned. Like he didn't know this wasn't the part of the bus you just casually strolled into.
And then—he did it.
He walked straight to the back row.
Past the front seats.
Past the weird middle zone where the normal kids lived.
Right into the back like he owned it.
"No. No no no," I hissed, clutching the seat like we were on a rollercoaster with no seatbelts. "Did he just—?"
"Oh, he did," said Palak, mouth open in horror, or admiration, or maybe both.
Daksh stared at him. Red Pie blinked like he was buffering. Harsh turned to Anav, betrayal in his voice.
"BRO. You brought him to our seat?"
Anav shrugged like he was innocent. Like he hadn't just broken every rule we never wrote down but all silently knew.
"He's cool," Anav said. "You'll like him."
"We don't like people," Daksh muttered. "We tolerate each other for survival."
But it was too late.
The new kid dropped into the seat next to Harsh like he'd been born there. Like he was invited.
The silence?
DEAFENING.
Even Aradhya looked up from her book, one eyebrow twitching like she was debating whether to mock or murder.
"Well," I said, slumping back in my seat. "This should be fun."
Silence.
A heavy, awkward, what-the-heck-just-happened kind of silence. The kind that makes you aware of your own breathing. The kind that only shows up when an unspoken social rule has been absolutely obliterated.
The new boy sat there, cool as a cucumber in a freezer, like he hadn't just committed Backseat Treason™.
We stared. He smiled.
And then…He. Started. Talking.
Loudly. Casually. As if this was a group chat and not a battleground for bus dominance.
"Sooo... is it always this dramatic back here or did I just walk into a season finale?"
Palak choked on invisible air. Harsh blinked like someone just unplugged him.
Even Red Pie looked like he forgot how to process emotions.
"I'm Bhavya, by the way," he said, grinning like he wasn't surrounded by emotional landmines. "Don't worry—I'm not one of those boring, I'm chill."
He leaned back, like he belonged here. Like we'd invited him. Like he wasn't committing war crimes with that level of confidence.
"You all got names, or do you just scream them at each other mid-bus fights and hope for the best?"
Anav snorted.
BETRAYAL.
"You're gonna fit in," Anav said.
Bhavya had entered our weird little universe and instead of combusting, he was… vibing?
He pointed at Daksh.
"You're the water bottle villain, huh?"
Daksh raised his juice pouch in salute. And proud.
"And you," Bhavya turned to Red Pie. "Are you okay? You look like you just watched a romcom and didn't get a happy ending."
Red Pie opened his mouth. Closed it. Turned redder.
"Classic," Bhavya said, nodding solemnly. "We're gonna be besties."
And just like that—chaos had a new king.
He is not just a senior.
An extrovert senior.
This was either the best or worst thing that could've happened to our backseat gang. Jury's still out.