After an hour of classes, shade had fallen along one side of the school field. The announcement echoed repeatedly over the loudspeaker—"Contestants for the race, please get ready!"
Suddenly, the air on the field seemed to pause for a moment. Light clouds drifted across the sky, and the sharp sunlight softened a bit. The crowd murmured with excitement—the girls' voices filled with cheers, enthusiasm, and laughter. At one end of the field, the running track, bordered by brown ropes, seemed to silently challenge each contestant.
A humming voice came through the loudspeaker—it was Madam Rituporna's:
"The 11th-grade girls' race is about to begin. Everyone, please line up."
Sneha, panting slightly, moved forward to join the line. Her body was sweating, but the sweat felt less like heat and more like an internal tremor. A weight settled deep inside her chest—as if she were about to stand before someone whose judgment could change her life.
Around her, sounds blurred into a haze—the cheers of friends, the announcement from the mic, the teacher's urging—all felt distant, far away.
Sneha stood in lane number five. The ground beneath her feet was dug-up earth, the race track marked with white chalk lines. She tried to keep her body as light as possible—but the heavy weight inside her remained. Her chest felt as large and heavy as ever.
Her throat was dry. The palms of her hands were sweaty. The air carried a mingling scent of sunlight and excitement. The cheers of the students standing around the field, the teachers' supervision, and the stern gaze of D.D. Sir—all combined to create a heavy pressure on her chest. Surely during the race, he would be watching her closely.
She looked down at the ground. She stood on the red-marked track. Dust swirled beneath her feet, and beside her lay a small container—filled with chocolates and raisins—that she had left in her bag.
Anurag sir stood on one side of the field. His eyes were fixed on Sneha. Looking at her, he thought she seemed weaker than usual today.
"Last-minute preparations—drink some water now if you need to," Rituporna madam called out.
Sneha's shoelaces were a bit loose—but she didn't want to tie them. If she bent down to tie them, she'd have to lean forward, and her cleavage would surely be visible.
So many people were watching her! She felt embarrassed!
A strange tingling sensation spread through her body. A heavy stone pressed in the middle of her chest. Her hands and feet grew warm. She could almost hear the pounding of blood near her ears—thump… thump… thump…
Suddenly her throat felt dry. She wanted water, but nothing would go down.
Her palms were sweaty, and she wiped them on her shirt once. The dirt beneath her feet felt soft, as if it wanted to swallow her. The air had grown heavy; it was difficult to breathe.
---
Today, seeing Megha on the field surprised all the girls in their class.
Her chest looked fuller.
Not as large as Sneha's, but still—where had Megha's breasts come from? She was known in class as "flat-chested."
Baishali said, "How is this even possible?"
Riya said, "She must have done something clever."
---
Before the competition, Megha had already made up her mind. Somehow, she had to present herself differently on the field. Winning the race wasn't enough—she had to draw everyone's attention, especially that of A.B. sir.
Megha knew she would be fast. She knew sir would look. And he must look. So, she wanted to present herself more gracefully—to look a little more "feminine." Seeking a bit of confidence, she tried to slightly lift the part of her body she had always been ashamed of.
At home, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself once. Her body shape always made her uncomfortable. 'Is it okay to be this flat?' she thought, then pulled out a thin pair of balloons from the corner of her drawer. She even smiled at her own silliness.
Small pink balloons—just what Megha needed. Not too much, just a light puff, like two small balloons. Not over the top, but noticeable. Then quietly, she took her padded bra and carefully inserted the balloons—one on each side. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, a faint, satisfied smile spread across her face.
"This will do," she told herself. "Looks just right. Not too much."
Wearing that, when Megha looked at herself in the mirror, a kind of confident veil wrapped around her.
---
That morning, when Megha arrived at the field in her sports T-shirt and track pants, she seemed more confident than before. She felt a strange thrill at the slight pressure on her chest, as if she were about to run with a new identity.
Looking over at A.B. sir standing far away, she thought to herself, "Today, you'll definitely keep your eyes on me, sir. Not just on my speed, but on me."
---
On the line, Megha stood beside Sneha, lightly touching her shoe, brushing herself off, and wiping her face with a towel in a lively manner.
She was full of life and energy. Looking at Sneha, she smiled and said,
"Do you even think you can run? I don't think so!"
Sneha said nothing.
The whistle blew—it was D.D. sir's voice:
"Take your positions, everyone! One hundred meter run. Get set!"
The girls panted, stretched their bodies before the race. Each face showed different emotions.
Sneha's heart pounded.
With one sharp blast of the whistle—
"On your marks!"
Everyone crouched low, balancing on their toes, leaning forward. The air stood still. From a distant classroom, the faint sound of a chair scraping was heard clearly.
Sneha bent her knees, lowered herself, gathered her body—exactly in a running stance.
"Get set…"
Inside Sneha's chest, an unknown drum started beating—thump-thump, thump-thump. Her breath caught in her lungs. She wished someone would stop her, say—"Don't run!" But no one said anything.
At one end of the field, Anurag Sir was staring intently at Sneha.
From behind, a younger classmate shouted, "Sneha didi, you'll be first today!"
Sneha said nothing. She tried to balance her body. Her chest felt heavy, her legs felt like birds hanging in midair. She silently thought—"I hope I don't fall."
DD Sir raised the whistle to his lips. For a moment, the air froze.
Tweet—
Peep—!!
The whistle blew.
Everyone ran.
Sneha ran too.
At first, her body resisted; her chest swung heavily under its own weight. She heard the sound of feet beside her, the caw of a crow, the clapping of the audience, someone shouting a name—but none of it reached her ears.
Sneha just ran. Struggling to carry the weight of her body.
She stretched her legs a little more, steadied the swing of her chest her own way, pushed away the unbearable fatigue rising from within, and kept running...
Everyone dashed forward. Some like the wind, some a little slower, some pounding their feet hard.
Sneha ran too, her body jolted forward. Her legs were out of rhythm with her body; the weight of her chest seemed to pull her back. She felt embarrassed, thinking maybe DD Sir or AB Sir could see the trembling of her chest.
Her head spun a little; she wanted to breathe, but her chest felt compressed.
But she didn't stop.
The earth trembled beneath her feet, the scorching sun burned her neck, the panting sounds filled the air, the competitors' footfalls echoed. She couldn't hear anything clearly. Inside her, only one thing was moving—a sudden jolt.
She was running, but didn't know how exactly. Tears welled in her eyes, her chest pounded, legs shook, her head spun.
Yet she didn't stop.
Suddenly, a strange feeling started to surround her.
Her vision blurred. She could see ahead, but couldn't focus properly. The red dirt track blurred with the green grass.
Her feet seemed beyond her control—they felt heavy. Her knees trembled.
Her chest was pounding, but she couldn't breathe properly. Her throat was dry and parched. Her mouth was dry long ago.
A sudden shudder shook inside her chest—and everything froze.
Her hands went numb. It felt like a stone was pressing on her body, her head felt light.
All around her, the sounds went completely silent. She blinked and looked ahead, but saw nothing clearly—only shadowy backs of the runners... and a hollow emptiness.
Her stomach twisted painfully, her chest felt hollow inside.
She tried to lift her left foot, but stumbled.
Her head spun.
She didn't fall, but her legs stopped working. They trembled.
Anurag Sir was observing Sneha very closely.
He thought, "Something's wrong. Sneha is not well. Maybe she's fallen ill!"
Sneha's hands and legs trembled, her lips quivered, her face turned pale.
She looked down at the ground one last time. Darkness seemed to be closing in all around. Someone whispered in her ear, "Stop…"
Then—
Suddenly, her eyes rolled back, her head spun, and she fell onto the field.
As soon as Anurag Sir saw Sneha fall, he ran like a madman toward her.
A scream rose from the field, "Sneha!"
Someone shouted, "Ma'am! Bring water! Sneha has fallen!"
Amid the stunned crowd, the microphone went silent except for one sound—the roaring gasps of Sneha lying on the ground.
Anurag Sir reached her and carefully lifted her into his arms. His face showed intense restlessness and worry.
"Hypoglycemia! She has hypoglycemia, Sir!"
Sir's face instantly went pale.
"What did you say?" he asked, eyes wide, breath caught.
He ran with Sneha in his arms—rushing toward the infirmary.
---
Meanwhile, Megha was running at her own pace, hair flying in the wind, her heartbeat seemingly keeping rhythm with her steps. Megha had already gone far ahead, nearing the finishing line.
The moment Sneha fell, DD Sir immediately blew his whistle loudly. With arms outstretched, he repeatedly signaled the runners to stop. Murmurs spread across the field; the race began to slow down one by one.
But Megha could not stop.
Her eyes were fixed ahead, her feet still slicing through the air. The whistle's sound reached her ears, but her body was still trapped in the running command. Unable to stop herself mid-run, her eyes fixed only on the goal, before she could realize it—suddenly she crossed the track line and straight into...
"Oh!" — a muffled thud.
DD Sir stretched out his hands to steady himself, and Megha's body collided directly with his hands—her breasts pressed right against his palms. A sharp popping sound was heard… then a moment of silence.
Megha froze.
From inside her chest came a strange soft "shhh-shhh" sound—light, but unmistakable. The two balloons she had placed inside her bra had burst. A warm breeze brushed her cheek. Blood flushed her face—in embarrassment, in intense unpreparedness.
DD Sir stopped too. He said nothing, his expression calm but clearly shocked. Feeling the unwanted reality pressed against his hands, he immediately withdrew them—but by then, what had happened was done.
Megha took a step back, lowering her eyes to the ground.
It felt as if time had stopped. Around her, the girls were noisy, the teachers whispered, but nothing reached her ears. She didn't want to look at her chest, and certainly not at Sir's eyes.
The entire field had come alive.
"Ugh!" — "Look, look!" — "Oh my God!" — "Did she have balloons in her chest?" — The girls' shouting spread everywhere. Some covered their mouths to laugh, others stared in shock.
The respected teachers were stunned too. Some felt embarrassed, some came forward, some turned away.
Someone whispered, "She had balloons in her bra...!"
Another said, "Right into Sir's hands! Ew, ew...!"
Megha stood there, head bowed.
DD Sir turned away for a moment and said in a stern voice, "The game is stopped. No more races today. Everyone return to class."
But behind that stern voice was an awkwardness. He knew well how unpleasant and socially complicated this incident was. He couldn't believe a student's breasts had ended up in his hands!
---
To be continued...