Our 13th

Riri was not in her bed.

She was lying on the floor in a position that could only be described as "splat." One leg was on the mattress, the other in a bedsheet cocoon. Her hair stuck out in ten directions, and her face was peacefully smushed against a half-empty packet of chana chur. A faint trail of biscuit crumbs ran along the floor like an edible breadcrumb trail.

"Riri!" Maashi called from the doorway, her bangles clinking as she entered. "This child..."

"I live here now," Riri said groggily, eyes still shut. "I'm merging with the floor. We are one."

Maashi gave the ceiling a long-suffering look. "Why, Rimi, why are you always like this in the morning?"

"Because mornings are a scam, Maashi. A big conspiracy by alarm clocks and adults."

Maashi nudged her gently with her toe. "Get up. Or I'll bring the mop and pretend you're the stubborn stain."

Riri cracked one eye open, then both. "Okay, okay! I'm up. Kind of."

She flailed around dramatically and rolled onto her back like a turtle flipped upside down. Her oversized T-shirt had a sleepy cat holding a samosa printed on it, and her pajama bottoms were mismatched with tiny sushi prints. One sock was on, the other missing in action.

Maashi bent down to help her up. "What will people say if they see you like this?"

"I hope they say, 'Wow, what a visionary sleeper,'" Riri said, yawning and sitting up. "I don't dream, Maashi. I travel."

"To which country this time?"

"Somewhere on moon."

Maashi rolled her eyes and pulled her to her feet. "Brush your teeth. Comb your jungle. And don't forget your jacket today, they won't let you in without it."

Riri nodded solemnly. "Yes, ma'am. Jacket of doom. Got it."

"And no mushroom hoodie.

"But it's my signature look!"

Maashi narrowed her eyes. "You want to scare your teachers on the first day?"

Riri smirked. "Only a little."

By the time Riri reached the mirror, she was already talking to herself.

"Okay. Let's do this. New institute, new beginning. Try not to trip over your own feet or say anything too weird before 10 a.m."

She pulled on a loose black T-shirt with a tiny ghost cartoon that read "Boo-tiful Disaster", slipped into her favorite baggy jeans, and finally zipped up the mandatory navy blue Sun Valley Institute jacket. It hung loosely on her frame, two sizes too big, but she liked it that way. Her hair was... manageable after a war with the hairbrush, and she had her lucky candy in her tote.

Makeup? No thanks.

Eyeliner made her blink like a possessed owl. Lipstick made her want to wipe her mouth every five seconds. She had a soft, chubby face that always looked kind, even when she was plotting rebellion. Why mess with that?

She gave herself a little thumbs-up in the mirror.

"Not bad, Sarkar. You look like a snack. A very casual, badly-wrapped street food snack. But still." ,she thought as she moved to the dining table.

Riri practically skipped into the dining room, her bag slung across her shoulder and her jacket half-zipped. The smell of fresh parathas and chocolate milkshake floated through the air, but nothing could erase the weird feeling in her stomach. She was excited, sure, but the whole "elite institute" vibe had her second-guessing her entire existence.

Her aunt, sitting at the head of the table, didn't look up from her newspaper. Riri could tell she was holding in some lecture about responsibility and fitting in.

Her uncle barely acknowledged her, eyes glued to his phone as he fiddled with stock prices. They were both lovely, sure, but... distant. There was a quiet expectation in the air, like Riri was supposed to be the perfect student, the one who fit—and she had no idea how to do that yet.

"Morning!" Riri chirped, setting her bag down and claiming the seat next to her cousin Rishi , who immediately rolled his eyes at her.

"Hello, Riri," her aunt said sweetly, though her voice carried a gentle firmness. She folded her paper, her lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I trust you're ready for your first day? Remember, the Human Development Program is—"

"A perfect fit for me?" Riri interrupted with a grin. She was a master at dodging serious talks. "You know, Maashi says I'm a free-range human. That's like the opposite of a robot student."

Her aunt's smile tightened. "I would prefer if you took things a bit more seriously. I don't want you wasting your time at this institute. Also your grandma sent you here because she wants you to focus on studies ."

"I'm serious," Riri said, stabbing her fork into a piece of paratha. "I take my food very seriously." She paused, adding, "I'm like a professional eater. It's a whole art form."

Her aunt sighed, but there was a tiny spark of amusement in her eyes. "Not everything in life is about jokes, Rimi."

Riri grinned and shoved another bite into her mouth. "You'd be surprised. But don't worry. I'm focused."

"Focused on food," Rishi muttered from the other end of the table, looking at her with a half-smile.

Riri winked at him, unbothered. "It's all about priorities. You guys are all way too serious for me. Life's a buffet, and I'm just here for the snacks."

Her aunt's face softened. "Just... remember, Rimi, you've got a good head on your shoulders. Make sure it works for you."

Riri nodded sagely, but her smile was mischievous. "Maashi says I'm a diamond in the rough. Maybe I'll just sit here and marinate in my roughness until I shine."

Her cousin, Rishi, snorted into his glass of juice. "More like fermenting."

"Rishi," their mother warned.

Riri just winked. "Well, even fermented things become expensive. Like—what's that smelly cheese rich people eat?"

"Rimi," her aunt sighed, rubbing her temples.