In the back of the school bus, it was always the same. Sunu Maiya was at it again. Nirmal breathed in and held his breath and then slowly released it. She, like all the other girls in the bus, was in her dark navy blue skirt and the light blue shirt. She had two protruded braids done up in yellow Loving Tokyos. Nirmal admitted she looked cute.

But when her antics started, it got ugly. It was a bad habit that she probably didn't even remember where she picked up from. Perhaps it was from her mother.
Sunu Maiya had a few weapons in her arsenal when she didn't like a guy or simply wanted to put him in his place. She prided herself in being able to ignite and play with animal anger of others while coolly smiling and laughing through it all. That was when she was in her element, and felt, oh, so powerful. It was plainly written in her eyes and her gestures. 
It worked especially well if the guy was already miffed. The first persona she assumed was the "I don't give a damn" playful personality. This was when she mock swung her hips in front of the person that she wanted to infuriate and danced around a bit. It worked so well. First you work a person into a bubbling frothing mess of anger. Then, you, in an exaggerated fashion, drop your hips. Act flippant. Anything to mock the person that you're trying to rile up. Show them that you don't care. Show them you're having the time of your life in fun, while this other person is throwing a sulk bomb. 
"Being morose, eh? Oh, boo hoo hoo." Her eyes would let the poor loser know how much he was missing out on the fun she was having.

She'd have one eye on the victim. And when she saw him tighten up, trying to restrain his anger, then she'd drop missile number two. She counted on the participation of an associate in this regard. "Gees," she would roll her tongue, "Don't you just hate grumpy people who get annoyed at the littlest things? They are such a bore."
Generally, speaking, by this time, the victim of her antics would either blow up, get uptight to the point that he would look like he was a walking stick, or storm out of the group. Sunu Maiya would throw her head back and laugh at her triumph. She was good. Damn, she was good.

Occasionally she would come upon a guy with that special self-control that women admired. You know, the ones who actually seemed secure enough to not care about the antics of a girl like her. But she had a special weapon especially designed for these guys. It was fear. No, no, it wasn't that she would intimidate them. Nope, she had something much more effective. She would, in almost a sincere gesture, show respect by seeming to fear their aloofness. A coy timidness with a little dash of wide-eyed dread, as if to say, "I take you so seriously, that I'm scared." Even the most solid male foundation would tremble at this gesture. Nothing stirs the male ego then a woman who seems to genuinely respect them. And a tremble here and a tremble there is all it took. Keep hitting the guy slowly, softly, surreptitiously through gestures and voice undulations at his tender spots. Flattered by compliments, slowly, even the tallest sky scrapper crumbled like it was made out of rickety wood.  

He shook his head whenever he saw Sunu Maiya doing her thing. Nirmal, who lived a few houses away from Sunu, knew some parts of her history. He knew that Sunu Maiya's father had abandoned her and her mom when she was still quite young. That was why she hated men. He had known this since they played in the street corner with the other kids. 

Sunu Maiya was so busy trying to corral people into playing by her rules, she didn't even realize the joke being played on her. She'd offer some incentive for them to play with her. And if they didn't take the bait, she would strike with her wrath. She knew how to line em up. 

Nirmal liked to think of her as a shiny Mercedes benz with an engine of a broken rickshaw. She had been broken as a child and had lost her heart. She was trying to force herself to hate men. All men. They all had the potential to be like her father. And she would be damned if she would allow herself to be hurt the way her mother had been.

She was afraid of men. She could handle power a lot more than she could handle intimacy. Truly being vulnurable and open with another scared her. But she had too much pride to admit this fear. Instead she hid behind an artificially propped up ego and a harsh exterior of cold heartless laughter. It was a playful dance whose sparkle had died in bitterness.    

Now, relationships were simply a power game for her. Something to give her a sense of meaning and purpose in the immediate. Nirmal felt sorry for her. She didn't even realize what she was losing in the process of congratulating herself in the game she thought she was winning. 

Nirmal looked up from his thoughts to see Sunu Maiya staring at him, triumph lighting up her face. Nirmal had a crush on her once. Looking at her now, he felt sad that he had a crush on her. He grimaced externally and stared out the window. He could smell the kerosene in her breath, now that he hadn't given her the acknowledgement she sought from him. He knew that she would turn her anger on him now.