"Appa, I forgot to tell you—Principal ma'am wants to meet you."
Appa paused mid-step. "Principal? What's wrong?"
I grinned. "Nothing's wrong! They just want to praise you… for raising a genius like me."
"Child!" Appa laughed, ruffling my hair. "Praise and you? You've been here what—three weeks? Already made a scene, didn't you?"
I rolled my eyes as we walked toward the administrative block. "Appa, please. Trust me, this one's all good. Promise."
We reached the Principal's office. I knocked and peeked in. The Vice Principal was there too, sitting across from Principal Ma'am with some files.
"Come in, Nila. And Mr. Kannan, welcome!" Principal Ma'am gestured kindly. "Please, have a seat."
Appa offered a respectful smile. "Good evening, ma'am. I hope Nila is doing well. We were a little nervous about her staying in the hostel at first."
"She's doing more than well, sir," Vice Principal ma'am said with a smile. "She's one of the bravest children we've seen in a while. You don't have to worry about her."
The Principal leaned back in her chair. "When we first saw her, she was crying. Honestly, we thought she was bullied."
"That was my first week, Appa," I whispered quickly, mortified. "They misunderstood."
"And when we stepped out of her classroom that day, I'll admit, for a second, I thought it was the staff who had been bullied by her," Vice Principal teased.
"Ayyo, Ma'am! That's not fair—I was being scolded!" I pouted.
"But still you stood up and calmly complained about that staff member in front of the Chief Warden, the Principal, me, and your entire class. You even had a Complaint about it."
Appa turned to me slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You cried… and then you complained?"
"Appa, it was just a misunderstanding with my warden. I told you about it, remember? That first letter I wrote to you helped clear it up."
He shook his head with a half-laugh. "Da, I agree you have to stand up for yourself. But don't question your teachers like you would your friends. They're like your parents when we're not around. Show respect."
"Don't worry, sir," Principal Ma'am cut in gently. "We've moved past that. Honestly, we admire her spirit. Sometimes, even we're left speechless at how confidently she acts."
"Good speechless or bad speechless?" I asked cautiously.
"Obviously good speechless," Vice Principal replied, chuckling.
Principal Ma'am smiled warmly. "We called you today to tell you how impressed we are. Nila has shown remarkable leadership and organizational skills. The 'Student Voice' digital magazine? She's one of the key forces behind it."
"She knows how to identify who to approach, how to ask for help—and more importantly, how to take initiative and get things done. Most students hesitate to even speak to a teacher, let alone the Principal. She—on the other hand—walks into the staff room like it's her second home."
Appa glanced at me, half-proud and half-incredulous. "She does that at home too. Never hesitates to speak her mind."
Principal Ma'am nodded. "It's a rare quality. Her computer science teacher and class teacher both told me they're genuinely enjoying mentoring her. They're happy with how she turns ideas into action so quickly."
Vice Principal added, "She's not just confident—she's responsible. And though she has a strong personality, she works well with her peers. We believe she'll do something meaningful with the 'Student Voice' initiative."
I stayed quiet, letting the praise land like petals on my shoulders. It felt surreal—especially hearing it said to my father. This time, my tears were kept safely behind my smile.
"Thank you, ma'am," Appa said sincerely, standing up. "I feel proud hearing all this. I know Nila's a bit stubborn, but I'm glad she's finding her place here."
"You've raised her well, Mr. Kannan. That's why we wanted to meet you personally."
As we walked out of the room, Appa gave me a sideways glance. "So… no punishments today. Just bouquets of compliments, huh?"
"See, I told you it's praise! Now, can I ask for an extra scoop of ice cream on the way home?"
"Don't push your luck, da. Let's go before they change their mind." He laughed, shaking his head.
But I saw the sparkle in his eyes.
After we came out of the office, we spotted Sastika's parents just a few steps ahead. They waved cheerfully, and Appa waved back politely. "Shall we?" he asked, and I nodded, walking beside him like a happy little kid on her first-ever picnic.
The school driveway was a chaos of honks, conversations, and impatient revving engines. At least a hundred cars were parked across the dusty ground. Parents craned their necks, students waved excitedly, and wardens stood like traffic officers trying to maintain some semblance of order.
In all that mess, our red Swift Dzire stood out like a cherry in a bowl of mixed fruit. Appa, of course, knew exactly where he had parked it. Within ten minutes of weaving through the crowd, we reached it. He pressed the unlock button, and the doors clicked open. I threw my bag into the backseat and sank into the front seat with a huge sigh of relief.
"Appa, I feel like I just escaped prison."
"Kanna, it's just been two weeks. Don't exaggerate." he said, chuckling.
At the main gate, we handed over the gate pass for verification. The security checked our names, the warden's initials, and let us out. That small moment of crossing the gate—it was freedom. Sweet, warm, and incredibly satisfying.
As soon as we hit the highway, the wind through the half-open window felt cooler, and the city felt farther. I turned toward Appa and said, "Let's make today memorable. Dinner plan?"
"Already decided," he grinned. "We'll have an early dinner at Ambur. Famous for its biriyani. It's a two-and-a-half-hour drive from here, so we'll be there by 7."
I clapped softly. "Yesss! This is the road trip I deserve. Biriyani and family time."
He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "Just you and me today. Amma and Santhosh are waiting at home. Amma wanted to come, but I told her let this ride be a treat for Nila and Appa. Amma will keep the dinner table warm for us."
I leaned back in my seat, suddenly sentimental. "Appa, I've missed home more than I thought. Not just Amma's cooking and my bed—but just being around you guys."
He nodded. "I know, kanna. But look at you. You've already done so much in just a few days. Amma told me about the digital magazine. Then today's Principal appreciation? I'm proud of you. But don't forget to rest a bit too, okay?"
"Promise. No homework this weekend. Only home."
The roads curved past sunflower fields and the occasional toll booth. The sun began its descent behind the hills, casting a soft golden glow through the windshield.
"So tell me more about this magazine thing. What's next?" Appa asked.
I explained about the upcoming print edition, the student submissions, and how we had set up two boxes in the library—one for articles and one for suggestions. I even told him how we were writing our email ID and website on every blackboard to make sure no one missed it.
"Sounds like a real organization already," he said.
"That's the plan. Make it big before someone can tell us not to. Then get the approval after."
He laughed. "Typical Nila style. First action, then apology."
"Appa! Not apology. Just... retroactive permission."
By the time we crossed Vaniyambadi, the sky was streaked with pink and orange. I switched on the Bluetooth and connected my playlist. Old Tamil classics filled the car, and we both hummed along. A calm, nostalgic silence filled the space between us.
I glanced at him between songs.
He looked peaceful. His left hand rested loosely on the wheel. The silver in his hair glinted in the dying light. I remembered all the times he used to drop me at tuition, come back from work just to get me a second set of chart paper, or wake me up for school whispering gently instead of shouting.
I reached out and held his right hand for a second. "Thanks for picking me up, Appa. This means a lot."
He glanced at me, his face softening. "Anytime, da. Always."
And just like that, our first father-daughter road trip rolled into the evening, one memory at a time.