Little Crooked House

It's your last Assembly.

The last time you hear them sing a hymn, the last time you mutter the words of the school prayer, not stopping to think what it means, not caring, not giving a shit really. And it's not your fault because you were brought up to be a robot. Taught not to question. Because what happens if you open your eyes and ask a question and they don't know the answer?

But the song is beautiful. Uplifting, almost. Sometimes, if your mind is quiet, you can feel it- a small tingle deep inside you that spreads warmth throughout your soul. But when is your mind ever quiet?

The stories they tell at Assembly are just that. Stories. You hear them, some bore you, some make you laugh and by the time you reach the big door you've forgotten them.

It's your last Assembly. The principal is talking to you. Preparing you for life, in six or seven paragraphs. Trying to compress years and years into seven minutes. She doesn't really care what happens to you. She probably doesn't even know your name. And if she does, you can be sure it's because you get into a lot of trouble.

They clap for you as you walk out. They don't care either. They will one day, but that will be for themselves, when they're the ones walking out to the applause. A lifetime away. Just like it was for you. Embarrassed, you shuffle out. An inglorious exit.

The field looks very green.

I didn't have a Last Assembly. I was late for school and I had to stand outside with a lot of people. Tanvi was one of them. Appropriate maybe, because it was the tail of her dress that I clutched when I walked into Assembly for my first time.

We talked about what we'd do after ISC.

I didn't even notice that I'd missed my Last Assembly till much later. When I did, I didn't really care.