I can already hear what you're all thinking:
"If Vijay is such a genius… 10 years old in Class 8… then why isn't the school supporting him?"
Yeah.
Good question.
Logical question.
Wrong assumption.
The reason?
Oh, it's not academic.
It's not financial.
It's not even about rules.
It's… personal.
Very personal.
And just a little dramatic.
You see, our school management isn't just some random committee.
At the top sits the Administrative Incharge—the man who controls approvals, funding, and basically decides who gets opportunities and who gets "better luck next time."
And then, of course—
Principal Sir.
The same "Golden Opportunity" machine from morning assembly.
Now here's where things get interesting.
The Administrative Incharge?
He's a long-time admirer—no, let's be honest—
a full-time pursuer of Neelam.
And Principal Sir?
Let's just say…
If loyalty had a fan club, he'd be the president of Shilpa's appreciation society.
And Neelam and Shilpa?
They're not just respected figures.
Not just well-known.
They're married to each other.
And me?
Yeah…
I'm their son.
Silence.
Let that sink in.
Now rewind a few years.
Back when things were… different.
Back when my family wasn't under pressure.
Back when relationships weren't tangled in ego, rejection, and unresolved feelings.
The Administrative Incharge once had a close connection with my family.
Professional at first… then personal interest grew.
But Neelam never reciprocated.
She chose her own life.
Her own partner.
Shilpa.
Same story on the other side.
Principal Sir respected Shilpa.
Admired her.
Maybe more than he should have.
But she made her choice too.
And it wasn't him.
Now fast forward to the present.
Both men in power.
Both holding authority.
Both smiling professionally…
But carrying old, unresolved frustration.
And guess who becomes the easiest target?
Me.
No direct punishment.
No obvious discrimination.
That would be too risky.
Instead?
"Budget constraints."
"Limited slots."
"Selection criteria not fully met."
"We'll consider next year."
All wrapped nicely in official language.
(Inside my head: "Ah yes… rejection with premium packaging.")
So when you ask:
"Why doesn't the school support a genius like Vijay?"
The answer is simple.
Not because I'm not capable.
Not because the school can't afford it.
But because sometimes…
Adults carry grudges longer than students carry school bags.
I sat there on the last bench, watching everyone whisper, speculate, judge.
Some thinking I'm unlucky.
Some thinking I'm overhyped.
None of them knowing the real story.
I leaned back slightly, a faint smile forming.
(Inside: "Complicated? Maybe. But also… interesting.")
My name is Vijay.
A 10-year-old in Class 8.
A student with a mortgaged house.
And the son of two women who unintentionally turned school politics into my daily obstacle.
Support?
No.
But honestly…
That just makes the game more fun.
I can already hear the next question forming in your heads:
"With all that politics… how are you still surviving in that school?"
Simple.
I don't play their game.
I play a better one.
And honestly?
I don't care about their little tricks.
Because while those two sit at the top planning their "professional obstacles," they forgot one very important thing—
A school doesn't run on two people.
There are dozens of teachers.
And most of them?
They like me.
Why?
Let's list it properly:
Behavior: Polite, respectful, never crossing limits
Intelligence: Always ahead in class
Discipline: Homework done, no nonsense
And most importantly…
Cuteness.
Yes.
Don't question it.
After years of careful "investment" (and a totally not suspicious system upgrade), I maxed out my permanent cuteness stats.
(Inside: "Best 2000 points I've ever spent.")
And in a country where a slightly innocent face can disarm half the room?
Yeah…
It works.
Very well.
Add to that—
My family background.
Having two mothers didn't make my life easier in society…
But inside school?
It created a strange kind of connection.
Especially with women teachers.
They don't see me as "that kid with rumors."
They see—
A well-mannered child
A hardworking student
And sometimes…
A kid who might need a little extra care
And that changes everything.
For example—
One day, during a math class, a strict teacher suddenly asked:
"Vijay, solve this on the board."
Before I even stood up, another teacher passing by the door smiled and said:
"He already knows it, sir . He explained this to juniors yesterday."
(Inside: "Backup has arrived.")
The pressure instantly dropped.
Another time—
A random inspection.
Principal Sir walking in like a surprise boss battle.
He scanned the class and stopped at me.
"Why are you sitting at the back?"
Before I could answer—
Our class teacher immediately stepped in:
"Sir, Vijay prefers observing from the back. His performance is excellent."
Translation:
"Sir, not today."
And the best one—
Extra classes for competition selection.
My name was "accidentally" missing from the list.
What a coincidence.
But then—
Three teachers showed up together.
"Vijay should be included."
"He's already ahead of the syllabus."
"We'll personally monitor his preparation."
Principal couldn't even argue properly.
(Inside: "Team combo attack successful.")
See?
They can't openly target me.
Because every time they try…
Someone steps in.
It's not favoritism.
It's something else.
A mix of:
Trust
Affection
And a little soft corner they don't even try to hide
One teacher even once said:
"You remind me of how students should be."
(Inside: "Mission success. Reputation level: MAX.")
So while the Principal and Management Incharge are busy playing silent politics…
I'm just sitting here on my legendary last bench, watching everything unfold.
They can block opportunities.
Delay approvals.
Create obstacles.
But they can't remove me.
Not without raising questions.
Not without resistance.
And that?
That's my real protection.
My name is Vijay.
And while they think they're controlling the game—
I'm already surrounded by allies they can't touch.
So they target me in this regard