In His Custody

The final school bell rang. Two girls—just eleven—sat crouched near the back staircase, away from the echoing chaos of dispersing students.

Priya’s hands trembled slightly as she handed over the pink disciplinary slip. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“They called my parents,” she whispered. “They want them here tomorrow. Suspension. Maybe worse.”

Nisha read the slip calmly.

"Caught sneaking out. Second time this term."

She wasn’t surprised. Priya had always been curious and restless — but kind. She shared her lunch with Nisha, tied friendship bands on even the shy kids, and once helped a limping puppy into shade and sat with it until help came.

She loved dogs. It had been their first common bond.

Nisha looked up and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Priya blinked. “You will?”

“Yes. It’ll be fine.”

---

That night, Nisha sat at her small desk under the soft glow of her study lamp. The room was quiet.

She pulled out a blank sheet and took a deep breath.

Her hand moved in calm, deliberate strokes. She imagined Priya’s father and wrote in his voice:

---

To,

The Principal,

New Era School,

Respected Sir/Madam,

I am writing with regard to the disciplinary slip issued to my daughter, Priya Menon. We were quite disappointed to learn about her behaviour and have taken the matter seriously at home. Priya has been firmly spoken to and warned. She now understands the consequences of her actions and assures us she will not repeat such behaviour again.

We request you to kindly consider this her first and final mistake, and revoke the suspension. We will ensure her conduct remains appropriate going forward.

Thank you for your understanding and continued support.

Sincerely,

Ashok S. Menon

---

She signed it — perfectly — as Priya’s father.

She had seen that signature on Priya’s notebooks and on the leave notes in her diary.

To Nisha, this wasn’t cheating. It was just a favour. A help. Something fixable.

Just then, her mother Mira entered the room to collect laundry and glanced at the letter on the table. But it didn’t register. She didn’t pause. Nisha held her breath, but her mother simply walked out.

That moment stayed with Nisha — not as permission, but as a silence that meant she hadn’t done anything wrong either.

Her morals changed. Her letter, and therefore her forgery, was put in the acceptable category of her brain.

---

The next morning, Priya submitted the letter at the front office. The receptionist didn’t blink. The principal gave a nod.

By afternoon, the suspension was revoked.

Priya rushed to hug Nisha but stopped when Nisha gave a subtle shake of her head. She hated attention.

Priya understood. She smiled and quietly sat beside her.

Nisha turned to the window as the classroom filled with the usual chatter.

She sat still — unnoticed, invisible — with a faint, satisfied smile.

She had discovered something new. A superpower and no one knew