IT IS NOT MY FAULT

My ears were prudently catching whispers going around but my endeavours went in vain. Soon, I could see the whispers mushrooming everywhere in class. However, there was one thing I was certain about and that was about whom is the talk about? It was about Rushali and knowingly was not being told me. I was worried but didn’t dare confront anyone and ask about the matter because I had a fight with Rushali yesterday, literally wait-you-b**** one fight. However, I tried to inflict maximum ignorance while, Poonam and group jabbered among themselves with their eyes full of vehemence placed over me. I was sweating now and could not wait but still compelled myself to be patient.
And then arrived our Class teacher Ms Garima who was identified easily in a crowd, as her maximum hair were red. I was apprehensive that something might go wrong with me because she was constantly gazing me she did not start with attendance as she usually did.
With her jumbled English and weird accent she hysterically started,” You know what happened with Rushali?” she said with her eyes focused on me. I was constantly fiddling a pencil with broken lead between my thumb and index finger.
She continued,” All of her face is burned with steam and I get phone yesterday 10:00pm and her mother was badly crying and they went to see doctor Patiala today.”
I felt sad on her part and found myself out of trouble, as I had no fault in her accident. I convinced myself that people weren’t talking about me. But, how could Ms Garima find her peace without blaming me. She took two steps forward and basked in her motive,” I am saying that what is written in these small fights. Rushali went home depression and this was its result only.”
My head shrunk into my tensed hands. It was not just Ms Garima blaming me but the entire class was. Ms Garima was now in a job of further propagating the hate against me and obtain praises for being an admirable teacher. I wondered where on the Earth their minds were lost; it was just an accident that took place on a wrong day.
Further, girls made plans to meet her but no one was interested in inviting me. I found myself submerged in a bewildering conundrum. What should I do?  I thought while collecting the million little pieces in which my confidence was crumbled. Their words collided in my mind, wounded me and lashed me even harder.
However, I have learned to get over such blame games. It is always not necessary to blame anyone. I have no issues and hates for Rushali but for everyone else. I hope they grasp in the fact that it is not my fault. These fights are a part of growing up they mark the depth of your friendship, remind you your mistakes and strengthens your link.