
Over My Head
Marie Lamba
Copyright 2011 by Marie Lamba
Smashwords Edition
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Published by Lamba Associates, Inc. at Smashwords
Lamba Associates, Inc.
P.O. Box 415
Doylestown, PA 18901
Copyright 2011 Marie Lamba
Cover copyright 2011 Cheryl Perez
Email with inquiries to: mailto:marielamba@hotmail.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Marie Lamba.
Edition: June 2011
In loving memory of Daljit Lamba
Table of Contents
He turns to me, his cool blue eyes heating me to the core. "Sang," he says with real gravity. "I have something I have to tell you."
THIS IS IT. Gary Westbrock is going to confess his undying passion for me, Sang Jumnal. Finally.
See? Good things do happen---even to me. It's like all that positive karma I've been putting into the universe for years is finally flowing straight back to right here, right now.
We're sitting side by side at a picnic table outside Planet Smoothie. I gaze at his blond eyelashes glittering in the noon sun. At the spray of freckles that stretch like a comet across his left cheek. At the long strawberry bangs dangling over his forehead.
"What is it, Gary?" I smile deeply so the dimple on my right cheek shows.
You are the woman of my dreams. Could you possibly ever care for me in the same way, Sang?
"Sang!" This interruption is from Megan, who's by the parking lot waving her cell.
My fantasy evaporates as I blink at Gary, who hasn't really told me anything yet.
"Sang. It's your mom," Megan calls. "She says it's important."
Talk about bad timing. "I'll be just a minute," I tell Gary. "Don't move."
I find Megan leaning against the side wall of Planet Smoothie with her boyfriend David Jovanovich. I can tell they've been making out because David's lips are swollen. He suffers from sensitive skin, among other things.
"Sorry," I say, taking Megan's cell. My parents believe cell phones are a waste of money (in other words, my parents are cheap). I did have my own cell a few months ago, which I paid for, until I lost it. "Hey Mom," I say into the phone.
"Sang, I need you home now."
"Right now?" School just let out for summer only a half hour ago. The sidewalks of good old Doylestown, Pennsylvania are swarming with girls in shorts and camis, and guys in baggy shorts and T-shirts. On the streets, upperclassmen zoom by in cars, with windows down and music throbbing. Nobody has to rush home.
I glance over and see Gary leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees. "Mom," I say, "can't we just talk at dinner?"
"I'm sorry sweetie, but---"
There's a shuffle and voices on the other end of the line. "Sangeet. This is your father. Get home now. No fuss."
"But---" The line goes dead. I close the phone and bite my lip.
Something's up at home. Something has been for some time. There have been lots of phone calls from relatives in India. A number of times I've seen the light under my parents' bedroom door late at night, and heard them talking in worried tones. Last week when I asked my parents if anything was wrong, Dad said, "Nothing, why?" Then he gave me this horrible fake smile, showing more teeth than necessary.
Part of me wants to race back to see what's going on. Most of me wants to stay put. But, as usual, Dad didn't exactly give me a choice.
So much for karma. I hand Megan her phone. "I have to go."
"And I gotta work." Megan pulls a Planet Smoothie cap from her bag.
"Leaving me. Again," David says dramatically. "Forever departing." He spreads his arms like a Shakespearean actor. Despite the 85-degree weather, brainiac David is wearing his usual long corduroy pants and T-shirt. Today the shirt, which is sweat-stained, says "Happy Days" in script. Still, Megan looks at him adoringly.
"It's just a few hours, my little David Duckie," she says. She ties her shiny shoulder-length black hair into a bun and puts on her cap.
"Hours and hours, my dearest Mrs. Tiggy-winkle," he says.
I try not to gag.
David turns to me. "Sang, you are the witness to our forced separation. 'Tis all a plot of her parents to keep young lovers apart."
This sounds paranoid but he's actually right. Megan's parents---Drs. Chung and Chung, licensed psychologists---are brilliant masters of manipulation. First they present their daughter with a ticket to a two-week teen group trip to Europe in August. Then they ask her to pay for a portion of it by working, to which she eagerly agrees. So now, instead of being with David all the time, she's going to be spending every waking hour crushing ice and fruit in a blender to make money. Clever. Clever indeed.
"Adieu," David says. He kisses Megan on the cheek.
As soon as he wanders away, I say, "So? Did you tell David yet?"
"No, but I can't blurt out 'I love you' just anywhere."
"Megan Chung in love," I say and sigh.
"Oh, Sang, didn't Gary ask you out yet?" She's staring at me with her large harp seal eyes. "What is with this guy? You two have been flirting for forever."
"He's just shy about taking that first step. Anyway, he's really close to asking me. I can feel it."
"Well if he waits any longer, you're going to end up feeling what it's like to go dateless to that party."
"Bite your tongue." Anna Kaprowski's seventeenth birthday party is in a few weeks, it's going to be elegant, and practically everyone is going with a date.
Including me. Right after Gary asks me out. And if he does it fast, I'll have time to run home before my dad gets too annoyed. Then everyone will be happy. Especially me.
Megan says, "Why don't you just tell Gary you're crazy about him? Guys like that. Remember, I asked David out."
Megan's idea of asking David out was to say, 'Would you kiss a girl who just ate cheese?' Still, the answer was yes.
"No, I couldn't," I say and sneak a peek at Gary, who is now leaning back with his elbows on the table.
"You have to talk to him," Megan says. "We're technically seniors now, right? So stop being so passive."
"I'm not passive." I cross my arms.
"I'm sorry but you are. You're always waiting for things to happen. Remember, she who hesitates is lost."
"I'm not lost," I say a bit too defensively.
"Oh, Sang. I just want you to be happy like David and me. It seems all wrong me feeling so wonderful when I sense you're so..." Megan gives me this worried look and tucks a lock of hair into her cap.
"When I'm so what?"
"Well," she says, wrinkling her brow, "so unloved and so very very alone."
"Damn." My own brow wrinkles. "But what do you want me to do? This isn't some school project. I can't just plan on falling in love this summer and then make it happen."
Megan's large eyes grow even larger. "But that's brilliant! Just break it into steps and follow through, right? Step one: find a guy you like." She shrugs. "Seems you've got that covered. Step two: make your move. Step three: say those three magic words."
I laugh. "Sure, Megan."
"I still got a minute. I'll help you kick off step two right now. Wait here."
"No!" I grab at her but she wriggles away, dashes over to Gary and immediately starts talking.
I cringe. Megan's definitely not what you'd call smooth when it comes to dealing with guys. She blurts out the craziest things. Like asking them if their socks smell. Or if they shave under their arms. She's a mess, which is partly why she and David are so perfect together. He's too bizarre to care.
I get to Gary only a moment later. Megan is saying to him, "So feel stuff. Feel Sang."
"What?" Gary grins.
"Oh, I don't mean to feel her," Megan says. "Not with your hands. Unless you want to. And she wants you to, of course."
I close my eyes, pretending I'm somewhere else. Anywhere else.
"What I'm trying to say, Gary, is you must feel Sang deep inside."
My eyes fly open. "Megan!"
"What's wrong with that? I'm just trying to tell Gary to be sensitive to your needs. And right now you need him to walk you home."
"No problem," Gary says, standing. "I'll walk with you partway, Sang."
"See? No problem," Megan says. She winks at me as Gary and I head off into the sunset. Or rather, into the noontime glare of State Street.
We walk by places that over the past week I'd tried without success to get a job at: Nat's Pizza, the Bagel Barrel, and a bunch of pricey restaurants. So far, the only job I've been able to line up this summer is dog sitting for my neighbor's poodle. Not exactly the big bucks.
Gary lopes alongside me and he's quiet quiet quiet. I begin to babble about my summer plans. Not the ridiculous "fall in love plan." Instead I talk about the week with my family at the Shore. About planning to read everything in sight. Going to parties, swimming at friends' houses. (Actually, I think to myself, sunbathing because I don't swim---ever. And I don't really sunbathe much. Since my dad is from India, all I have to do is step out the door and I instantly darken from a light chai color to toasty golden marshmallow to dark chocolate. I'm the United Nations of skin all in a matter of an hour or two.)
God. I'm still babbling. What am I saying? Something about us spending tons of time together? How is he ever going to ask me out if I never shut up?
Then I see THE dress in the window of the This Is It! boutique. I can't believe it's still there. It's 1950s retro and strapless, with red fabric and a wide black sash. As soon as Gary asks me out, I'll get my mom to buy it for me as an advance birthday present. I will wear it to Anna's birthday, where everything will be perfect. I imagine myself on the dance floor with Gary. I can practically feel his arm around my waist and sense the warm passion as the two of us stare deeply into each other's eyes.
"Nice," Gary says with feeling.
I turn to him but his eyes aren't on me. They're not even on the dress. He's looking at Trish Crowdly. She's walking with her clones Meredith and Liselle.
Trish. Sort of rhymes with a choice B word. She's spoiled. Going into twelfth grade too. But while I just got my permit in April (okay, so I applied for it really late), Trish already has had her driver's license and her own car for forever. She has one of those early birthdays. She does everything early. Like guys. She has tanning salon-darkened skin, bleached teeth, and the rose tattoo on her hip is always exposed above her low-slung jeans.
From elementary school through middle school, Trish thoroughly enjoyed making my life miserable. Fortunately she's not in any of my honors classes, so I rarely see her these days. Unfortunately, Gary seems to be getting a real good look at her right now. His eyes follow Trish as she continues strutting along the sidewalk.
I spot a rare "Help Wanted" sign in the window of Coffee & Cream and immediately pull Gary toward it. "Need to grab a job application," I explain.
We climb the steps and I open the door to the tiny coffee shop. Inside is refreshing air conditioner cool and there's the delicious scent of fresh coffee beans.
"Isn't that Gina Baldarasi's older sister behind the counter?" Gary asks.
I nod. Even after all this time, I still feel a pang of sadness hearing Gina's name. I guess that's just how it is with an ex-best friend.
"Oh, hey kid," Michelle Baldarasi says as we approach her. She's sporting a nose ring and wearing a blue apron over her camouflage pants and khaki T-shirt. She always looks like she's ready for war. "How's your brother? He around?" She waggles her eyebrows.
"Yeah. I'll tell him you were asking for him." Michelle graduated from high school with my brother Hari. I think they may have even gone out for a little while. I am so getting this job. "Could I have a job application?"
She shakes her head. "Sorry. All the regular spots are filled. Just a management position left. College age only."
"Oh. Great."
"Too bad you didn't come in like two weeks ago. Hey! You. I told you to buzz off." Michelle springs from behind the counter and swats a towel at a tall man in a tweed jacket. The man holds up his hands to ward off the attack and dashes out of the shop. Michelle walks back to us. "Sorry. That guy completely pisses me off. Twice in a row he ordered food and left without paying. And the owner took it out of my pay. Does that suck or what?"
Gary says, "You were amazing."
Michelle grins. "True. Hey, power to the people." She raises her fist like she's just liberated the world.
"Power," I say and partly raise my fist, but I feel more like a cheerleader than a conqueror.
Quick as a flash, Gary and I are back on the sidewalk in front of the store, and to my relief, Trish is nowhere in sight.
Gary says, "Michelle Baldarasi is awesome. So confident and sure, you know? I wish more girls were sure of themselves."
I wish more guys were. Time ticks on. I imagine my dad waiting for me, tapping his toe, frowning. "Uh, Gary, didn't you want to say something to me before? To ask me something?" I hate how pushy I sound.
"Um, well yeah, actually." He runs his hands through his hair.
This, really, is it. I hold my breath.
"Sang," he says, "do you think Michelle might go out with me?"
"No week at the Shore?" I practically screech. "Why?"
Here I had been jogging home from the Gary disaster, trying to focus on the only positive thing in my life: I was going to go to the Jersey Shore for a whole incredible week. And there I could meet a hot lifeguard. Then I'd be kissing salty skin, holding hands and seeing the moon rise over the ocean. Maybe even falling in love...
Then I get home and BAM! The vacation and the hot lifeguard are washed away. My life is spinning completely out of control.
And forget about karma. Being a good person, friend, daughter, student, citizen...it doesn't make any difference to the universe at all, does it?
I'm on the couch in the living room with my little sister Doodles and my big brother Hari who is home from college for the summer. My parents are standing in front of us laying out the horrific news. "We have to go to the Shore," I say in a firm voice. I'm trying to be confident and sure of myself, but I'm almost in tears. Again. It must be heartbreak. I can't be pre-menstrual. Is there such a thing as post-menstrual? That would leave like, what? One day a month for a girl to be emotionally balanced?
"Sangeet," my dad says in a gentle voice. "We did not make this decision lightly."
God. Something is wrong. I study his face. He seems tired and sad.
"It's just a money matter, that's all," he says.
"Are we poor?" Doodles says, eyes wide. "Are we gonna have to live in a box now?"
That's something my grandma in Seattle says to my mom. "Lena," she says, "if you young people insist on having everything right away, taking loans, buying big cars, having fancy vacations to India, you'll end up living in a cardboard box by the railroad tracks some day."
"Dad? Your job?" Hari says. He looks like a younger, taller, more laid-back version of my dad, but right now he and my dad share the same tense expression. "I thought you had tenure."
Dad's a schoolteacher in an elementary school. He's tenured, which means nothing, short of the end of the world, can endanger his job.
"No no. It's nothing like that," Dad says, then paces back and forth in front of us, running his hand through his short black hair.
"Kids, we don't want you to worry," Mom says. She looks frazzled, her auburn hair escaping from her bun. In the summer her hair is always up because it's the only way she can deal with her severe case of humid weather frizz.
It's a good thing I didn't inherit that. Poor Doodles, however, is not so lucky. But she doesn't care. Some days she doesn't even brush her hair. In fact, right now she looks like Einstein, but without the mustache.
"We have to be economical," Mom is saying.
Economical. Isn't that what we always are? We have to be the most economical family in all of Doylestown. We have no cell phones, no cable TV, we've got old cars, and nearly 100% of my clothes have been purchased from clearance racks. Guess I can forget about getting that dress from This Is It! Of course, I don't really need it now.
Mom says, "We have a more practical need for that money. We---"
"We found," Dad interrupts, "that for much less money, we can get a family membership for the entire summer at the Fanny Chapman Pool. Which is what we've done. Including swim lessons for you girls."
"Yeah!" Doodles leaps off the couch, arms in the air, as if someone just scored a touchdown. Ten year olds are cool like that. Practically anything excites them. "Everyone goes there," she says. "All right!" Doodles runs and squeezes Mom and then she wraps her arms around Dad's narrow waist.
Hari and I don't move. We, obviously, are not thrilled. How exciting is it for me to belong to a pool, seeing as I don't swim and never plan to? And forget swim lessons. That is not going to happen. As for Hari? He's in college. Nothing excites him anymore.
"I gotta tell Bethany," Doodles says. "Can I call her?"
"Of course," Dad says.
"But in a minute," Mom says. "We need you to sit just a while longer."
While Doodles sits, I slowly shake my head. No Shore. No lifeguard. No dress. No Gary. No love. No point in going on.
At once I'm reliving that horrible moment with Gary all over again. "Michelle?" I said to him. "You want to go out with Michelle? She's at least nineteen."
"There's something about an older woman," Gary said and he turned the color of pink lemonade.
"What about before?" I said, my words coming out too fast, too breathless. "You wanted to tell me something before when we were by Planet Smoothie."
He rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah. That. Turns out, after my week away at basketball camp, I'm working at the Y as a summer counselor. So we won't be able to hang together as much as you'd hoped."
"As I'd hoped?"
"Yeah. You know. You keep talking about us spending lots of time together."
I stood there frozen, like some storefront mannequin, only in crappy everyday clothes. And I realized just how right Megan was. I waited too long. I'm always waiting like some pathetic passive loser destined to spend the rest of her days alone and unloved.
After one long horrible moment, I turned on my heel and left, tears filling my eyes.
"Sang?" Mom says now. "You okay?"
I ward off a fresh batch of tears by breathing deeply and blinking fast. "Yeah. Perfect."
"Oh, honey," Mom says, squatting in front of me. "It's the swim lessons, isn't it? I know how you feel about swimming, but these lessons are an opportunity to overcome your fears. Don't you want to learn how to swim?"
I shake my head.
"Sweetheart, it's a safety issue." Mom touches my hand with her always chilly fingertips. "We want to protect you. What if someday you fall off a boat?"
"So I won't go on a boat." I pull my hand away. "And I won't take swim lessons."
Mom pats my knee and stands. "We'll talk about this later. Your father has something more to tell you all."
God. What else? Cardboard bungalows for everyone?
Dad clears his throat. "Right. Well, for one thing, we just found out we'll be having a visitor. Remember your cousin, Raina?"
"Who's Raina?" Doodles asks.
"You haven't met her yet," Mom says. "She wasn't in Delhi the last time we visited. But Sang, you should remember. Raina is the one you were so close to when you were little." When I give her a puzzled look, she says, "The one with the teeth. Remember?"
I nod. At the time, Raina and I had had the same front teeth missing, and we would spit lime soda between our teeth into the little garden by Taoji Ravinder's building. The word 'taoji' means older brother uncle in Punjabi. My dad has two older brothers. Taoji Ravinder is my oldest uncle. He's also my favorite.
"Mom had said spitting was unladylike," I tell Doodles, after explaining about the teeth. "But Taoji said we were planting more lime trees and to keep up the good work. Pretty soon me and Raina were 'planting' trees up and down the street." After I say this, I notice Dad staring out the window at nothing. "Dad, is Raina okay?"
"Hmm?" He looks at me. "Fine. No problem. She'll be staying with us for a few weeks or so."
"Wait," I say. "She isn't, you know?" I tap my forehead.
"Now, I know last time we had someone stay with us, there were issues," Mom says.
Understatement. During my sophomore year, Chachi spent a few months with us, but it felt like forever. She's my dad's sister-in-law and wife to his younger brother who had died a few years back. While she was here, Chachi stole money and food and set me up to take the blame. She was definitely not right in the head.
"We want to assure you," Dad says carefully, "Raina is nothing like that. I honestly don't foresee any problems. So she will live here for a little while. Sound okay?"
This is a typical Dad moment. He pretends like we have a choice in things and our opinions really matter. But this is the Jumnal house. If Dad decides my cousin is coming, then she is. Case closed.
"Can I call Bethany now?" Doodles asks.
"Well---" Mom begins.
"Sure, go ahead," Dad says, and Doodles bursts out of the living room and tears up the stairs.
"But, Akash," Mom says.
"All done." Dad claps his hands. "Class dismissed." Hari and I stand.
"Akash," Mom says, "you have to tell---"
"Right right," Dad says. "Sangeet, you'll have to share your room with Raina. That's it."
Okay, I'm not wild about this idea. But as usual, I don't have a choice. "Whatever you say, Dad."
"That's a good girl," he says.
\*\*\*\*\*
"We know it's money trouble," Hari says, tossing a balled-up sock in the air and catching it. We're both sitting on his bed. After the family meeting ended, Hari and I immediately gravitated up to his attic bedroom to figure things out.
"But we've never had this type of problem before," I say. My eyes wander around the room, taking in Hari's laptop on his desk, and his sci-fi paperbacks and creepy green hand coin-snatching bank on the shelf. This room once harbored Chachi, but she is long gone, Hari is here, and all should be right in the world. But it isn't now, is it? "What's different now?"
Hari tosses the sock again and catches it. "Me. College. The expenses are too much."
I sit up. "But you got loans. Scholarships."
"Not enough. Mom and Dad pay. A lot." He throws the sock into his overflowing laundry basket. "Why didn't they say something?" He stands hands on hips and stares out the window at our little fenced backyard.
Now I'm thinking about Dad's face. He looked really miserable. "Hari, what if we're in real trouble?"
"We couldn't be. They didn't even bother me about getting a summer job yet."
"True. And Raina's coming. We wouldn't exactly be having a houseguest if we were losing our house, right?" Hari doesn't answer. "Hari?"
His stubbly jaw juts out and I can tell he's just made up his mind about something. My dad does the very same thing. Hari grabs his keys from the dresser top.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"To get a job---where else?"
As he races down the stairs to save the day, I shout, "Try Coffee and Cream!"
After I hear the front door of the house slam, I grab a quarter from his nightstand and stick it in the coin bank's slot. There's a grinding noise as the green hand lifts higher, higher, then snatches that quarter away into the depths of the box. This bank used to crack me up.
Today it doesn't seem funny at all.
"I know Megan's crazy about him," Anna Kaprowski says in a low voice, "but isn't David a little...you know?" She wrinkles her nose.
It's around 9:30 at night and we're at a last-day-of-school party at her house. Anna and I both look to the opposite side of her pool where David stands. He's still in his corduroys but now in a fresh Jabba the Hutt T-shirt. Even though the sun's down, it's still hot and humid. In the glow of the citronella candles, I can see David's hair is stuck to his head with sweat. Maybe he doesn't own shorts. Maybe he has ugly legs and doesn't want anybody to see. Maybe he can't swim either.
"He's not that strange," I say.
David's eyes are riveted on Megan, who is wearing a pink and black polka dot bikini. She does a cannonball into the deep end and the backwash soaks David's pants. "Yeah!" he shouts and claps like a kindergartener who's just been told it's milk and cookies time.
"Okay," I say. "He is strange. But I think it's sweet how much he adores Megan. And she adores him." I lean back on the chaise lounge and cross my freshly shaved legs.
"I know," Anna says, lying back on the lounge next to mine. We both sigh.
I take a sip from my soda can and think about that ridiculous "falling in love" plan. Of course now it's even more ridiculous since I don't even have anyone to say "I love you" to.
"I just hope David doesn't wear that shirt to my birthday party," Anna says. "It isn't mean to say that, is it?" She gives me a worried look. I smile and shake my head. There's nothing mean about Anna. She's what my grandmother would call "a real doll." Actually, with her white-blond hair hanging in ringlets around her face, she does look like a doll I used to have.
It's kind of amazing Anna isn't completely spoiled, considering her family is rolling in dough. Her parents always throw her incredible birthday parties. Last year's was a girls' night out at a spa, complete with massages and mud baths. This year, they're going high class by having the party at the James Michener Art Museum in the center of town. They've rented out this huge room and the sculpture garden for the night.
My parents haven't mentioned anything about a party for my own seventeenth birthday, which is coming up in August. Maybe it's going to be a surprise party. Maybe there won't be any party. Or any presents. Economical, right?
At Anna's there's going to be dinner, and dancing outside in the sculpture garden. But how can I go now? What if Gary shows up there with Michelle Baldarasi?
Or maybe he'll take Trish. I can't believe I thought he was shy. I picture him at the party with both of them, his arm around each of their waists.
"Hey ladies," Jonathan Crispin says from behind us. Jonathan is one of those potentially hot guys, who, once his acne goes away, will probably be gorgeous. "Coming in?" he asks. "I could use a chicken fight partner."
"Go on, Sang," says Anna, ever the gracious hostess.
But Jonathan is not about to tempt me to my death, because I will die by drowning. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. I just know it. "You go," I say. "Have fun."
Anna glows with pleasure and jumps into the pool. Jonathan follows.
I look around at the professionally landscaped grounds. My family never had this kind of money but we always got by. What happens if a family suddenly doesn't get by? I wish I could help. I can't even get a real job. Sure, I'm going to be dog sitting, but that will barely give me enough money for movies and cappuccinos. What if I started a huge pet-sitting business? I could be like those New York City dog walkers with fifty pets on a leash. A lot of people go away in the summer. Hmm.
I take a swig of soda and just about choke when I see Gary arrive, towel around his neck. He's waving to me like nothing's wrong. Like there's been no flirting. No deeper connection.
I grip the arm of the chair. He's coming toward me. He'll sit in the empty lounge chair beside me and make pleasant chit chat. In no time, he'll have me helping him win over Michelle Baldarasi. Assisting him in picking out his and hers fatigues and matching nose rings. Coaching him on the most romantic ways to tell her he loves her.
I jump to my feet, walk the opposite way around the pool, and make a quick escape into the house. I follow the sound of voices into the kitchen, where I find Jackie and Monique talking and laughing.
"Hey, Sang," Monique says. "Come join the Hot Chicks in Bikinis club."
"I'm underqualified," I say.
This sets off several minutes of body complaints, including my too-long torso. Jackie thinks her butt is too big. Monique says her boobs are too small. After we all reassure each other that we are not hideous but in fact absolutely fabulous, especially in our bathing suits, the subject quickly shifts to guys.
"I think Jonathan is asking Anna if he can take her to her party," Monique says, ever the gossip.
"That's a relief," Jackie says, but as always, her eyebrows are puckered with worry. "I was afraid she'd have to go to her own birthday alone."
I picture myself at the birthday party slouching in a corner. The only dateless one, wearing some hideous dress I found in the back of my mom's closet.
"So, Sang, what about you?" Monique says, giving me a sly wink.
"Me? I'm fine. Great. It's summer, right? Lots of big plans."
"No, I mean did Gary---"
"You know what?" I set my soda firmly on the counter. "Forget guys."
My friends exchange glances.
"No, seriously," I say. "Look at us. We're attractive. We're smart. We're funny and nice."
They nod. They even raise their soda cans and say, "Truth!"
"And we're better than this," I say.
"Uh oh." Jackie lowers her can. "What happened?"
"Nothing, okay?" I say, strangling my soda. "I just think there's more to life than guys."
Monique tilts her pointy chin at me. "There is?"
"Of course there is," I say, trying to convince myself. "It's a big world. I mean, we can make amazing plans. Accomplish all sorts of things. Right?"
"Such as?" Monique asks.
"Well," I say, casting a look around the sleek high-priced kitchen. "Maybe we can cure hunger. Or end poverty." I think of my parents and swallow hard. "Okay, so Daddy doesn't give us a new convertible. So we aren't all confident and experienced. So we don't have a tattoo, can't get a job or even a driver's license yet." My friends look puzzled, but I don't care. I'm on a roll. "I say we can still make a difference." I quirk an eyebrow, thinking I might actually be onto something here. "We can definitely do something important." I raise my soda high. "Who's with me?"
There's a moment of silence. Then they fall all over themselves laughing. I set down my soda, surprised at how much this bugs me.
Monique slaps my shoulder. "You're funny."
"Right," I say, pretending to be in on the joke.
As I leave the kitchen, I hear Jackie whisper, "Poor Sang. Gary must have dumped her." And Monique say, "Were they even going out?"
My spirits hit an all-time low. Why did I ever look forward to summer?
I pass Dalton, who's coming out of the powder room in his bathing suit, his clothes and a towel rolled in a ball under his arm. Dalton's torso is farmer-tan white. This, combined with his glasses, makes him look like the honors student poster child that he is.
"Hi Sang," he says. "You look..." His eyes travel up and down my body. He gulps, making his Adam's apple bounce. "...nice."
"Thanks, Dalton." I realize he's looking at me the way I wish Gary would. Dalton's had a crush on me for a while, but I definitely don't feel the same way about him.
I can't explain why not. He's nice. He's cute in a harmless guy kind of way. So why can't I be crazy about him? He likes me, I like Gary, Gary likes Michelle. It's all so unfair.
Dalton's smiling at me now. I notice his dimple on his left cheek, which would be a mirror to my own dimple, if I were smiling.
But I'm filled with an overwhelming sadness. Sadness for myself and for all the lonely and pathetic Daltons and Sangs in the universe. So many people powerless to get what they really want.
At once I think of what I said about making a difference. Of Megan saying I should stop being so passive. So why can't I change things? Why can't I make somebody's life happy? Why can't just one person be happy, if only for a minute?
"Dalton," I say, before I change my mind. "Kiss me."
He rips off his glasses and wow, does he ever.
\*\*\*\*\*
Why can't life be as perfect as Jake Gyllenhaal? I'm lying on my back in bed trying to get into Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, which is on my summer reading list for Honors English. But instead I'm staring at my wall at the Prince of Persia movie poster. At Jake Gyllenhaal dressed as the hero with his long hair blowing around his chiseled face, his muscular arm gripping his sword, and passion smoldering in those eyes. He is definitely absolutely perfect.
Unlike me. It's not just my extra long torso, it's the line of zits I keep getting along the edge of my forehead, no matter what cleanser I use. It's my horrific social life. Spending so long liking one guy, only to end up with the guy I'd been avoiding all along. Not that Dalton isn't great. But I don't feel anything when I'm near him. There are no sparks. Okay, there were some sparks during that amazing kiss. But after that, nothing. I can't ever imagine saying "I love you" to Dalton.
It's past 2 a.m. I shut the book, shut off my light and lie here, but it's no use. I'm wide awake. I should really get to sleep. I can't sleep too late tomorrow because I'm starting my pet-sitting gig, watching Mrs. Schnapps' dog while she's in Spain for a few weeks. It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how much trouble can a little apricot poodle named Poopsie be? I'm not sure how much Mrs. Schnapps is paying me, because I felt too weird to ask. I didn't even ask the exact date she was getting back.
I roll onto my side and stare at the red glow of my digital clock. Now all I can think of is that kiss. How Dalton pulled me close and gave me one of those I've-waited-all-my-life-for-this kisses you see in the movies. My knees trembled. Everything went out of focus. I shut my eyes, and when I opened them, for the briefest of seconds I saw Jake Gyllenhaal pull back and smile at me. He had that same smoldering expression he has in the poster, and a white billowy shirt opened down almost to his waist, and this look in his eyes that said, "I am yours."
After I had blinked my eyes a few times, Jake morphed into Dalton, the white shirt into his white untanned chest. But the look in his eyes was the same. Yikes. All I could think was, don't look at me like this. It's just a kiss. That's all.
I said I had to find Megan, and left. She was sitting on the edge of the pool in a sort of vegetarian bliss, snacking on fried tofu she'd brought in a plastic baggie from home. When I told her what I'd done with Dalton, before I could even get to the "just a kiss to make him happy and nothing more" part, she clapped and said, "Yeah! Sang, you are a total woman of action. You found the guy and made your move. Now you just have one more step and your 'fall in love plan' is complete. Just say those three magic words, right?" Then she hugged me.
Okay, I thought, so I made not only Dalton, but Megan happy too. Who knows? Maybe even Gary would jump for joy at the news.
"You know, I always knew you and Dalton would be perfect for each other," Megan said. "He really deserves this. Especially after what he went through." She raised her eyebrows. "You know."
I did know. I had made him miserable, but not on purpose. It was back when I didn't realize he liked me. He asked me out and I just freaked and said I couldn't. Or I shouldn't. Or something stupid like that.
Thinking of this, I felt ashamed of myself. I didn't mean to, but here I was leading Dalton on again. I didn't feel that way about him. End of story. I would have to tell Dalton the truth. IMMEDIATELY.
But somehow I didn't. I didn't even tell Megan. Everyone was so happy, you know?
Now I roll over and face the shades on my window, which are slightly aglow from the streetlight outside. I tell myself maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe if I give Dalton a chance... What about all the zillions of arranged marriages in India? Don't some of them turn into true love? For example, my favorite taoji and taiji. They barely knew each other when they married, and yet whenever I've visited New Delhi, I couldn't help but feel their love for each other. Like in the way Taoji Ravinder teased her about being on the phone too much, or Taiji Parveen tut-tutted about the sorry state of his turban, adjusting it until it looked just right.
Get a grip. This is not an arranged marriage, or anything that serious. I will tell Dalton. I swear. And he will hate me forever.
Feeling miserable, I roll onto my back. In the darkness I stare toward the ceiling and think about Jake Gyllenhaal. It's cool how he can recreate himself in a movie. Become anyone he wants. All it takes is costuming, acting skill, some movie magic, and a hot body of course.
I wish I could recreate myself---become somebody more exciting. Heroic. In love. I imagine myself in that incredible red dress, only it's longer like the ones in Austen's Sense and Sensibility or in her Pride and Prejudice. And suddenly there I am in the final scene of Pride and Prejudice. I'm striding across the grand lawn of Fonthill Castle, which in real life is only a few blocks away from my house. Doylestown actually has two castles. Not kidding.
Hm. You'd think living in a town with two castles would mean my life was a happily ever after fairy tale...
Cue back to the castle's grand lawn, which is swathed in early morning mist. I'm striding away from the castle and striding toward me is the mysterious and handsome Mr. Darcy. I'm all heaving bosom and blushing cheeks. He's all knee-high boots, leather pants and passion-filled eyes. We rush to each other and embrace. I smile at him. His features shape shift from Jake Gyllenhaal to Gary to Dalton to Poopsie the poodle. Poopsie says, "My darling, I love you," and tries to lick my cheek.
AAAH!
I sit up, my heart pounding. The clock says 2:45 a.m. God, I hate dreams like that.
I take a few deep breaths and rub my eyes. That's when I notice light in the hall coming from under my parent's door. I get up and tiptoe to my door. I listen closely, and sure enough, I hear worried murmurs from their bedroom. I catch words here and there. "We can't..." And "Every last cent..."
Okay, I have to know what's going on. I raise my hand to knock on their door, just when I hear Dad say, "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars!"
I recoil from the door. I crawl back under my covers and hug my pillow tight.
First thing Saturday morning and already Dalton is trying to Facebook chat. I stare at the screen.
Dalton Dreyfus
When can I see you?
I know I promised I'd level with him. But an entire day has passed since the kiss and still I have not leveled with him in any way, shape or form. In my defense, I haven't exactly seen him yet. Maybe I could go on not seeing him forever. Or maybe I could just type in the miserable news and get it over with.
I tell myself that anyone who uses Facebook to break up is cowardly scum. UNLESS they are just saving the other person from a really embarrassing moment. In that case it's actually nice.
My fingers are poised over the keyboard. I know what I need to say: I like you as a friend, but that's all. I'm horrible. You're an amazing kisser. Forgive me?
I bend my fingers, but I just can't type the words.
Dalton Dreyfus
You there?
Unfortunately, yes. Deep sigh.
Sang Jumnal
Can we meet?
\*\*\*\*\*
I slowly open the door to Mrs. Schnapps' house, expecting her toy poodle to come barreling toward me. I haven't had much experience with dogs, but isn't that what they do? There's an eerie silence. "Here Poopsie Poopsie Poopsie," I call, shutting the door behind me. All around the foyer there's plenty of poop, but no Poopsie. I grit my teeth and tiptoe through the minefield to the safety of the kitchen. On the counter are cleanser, paper towels and a mound of plastic bags. "Mrs. Schnapps, you'd better pay me well."
I clean up the mess and toss the bag into the trash outside while rethinking my grand pet-sitting business scheme because that would be a LOT of poop. When I return, Poopsie comes racing toward me from her hiding spot, all waggy tailed as if she was the most innocent toy poodle in the world.
"Don't talk to me," I say. "I'm really pissed at you."
Poopsie rears up on her hind legs and scratches my knees.
"Stop that."
She cocks her head to one side and looks absolutely adorable.
"No fair." I cross my arms.
She runs into the living room and comes back with this ratty stuffed animal that looks like a dust bunny with eyes. She tosses it at my feet.
"I am not touching that thing, so forget it."
Poopsie pokes my knee with her cold black nose and I crack a smile.
"Okay," I say. "But only once." I toss the toy down the hall. Poopsie springs after it, her toenails skidding on the wood floor. She brings it back and I toss it again. Again. Again. After a few dozen tosses, Poopsie is panting and no longer cares about her mangy toy, so I take her for a little walk around the yard and then fill her water and food bowls. I pick her up and rub her pom-pom ears. "No more surprises, okay?" She licks me in the nostril. We're the best of friends. "Okay, I'll see you later." I set her down.
Poopsie does her head tilt thing again like she's trying to understand. It must be tough having a brain the size of a walnut. I wave bye and she tilts her head the other way, suddenly seeming sad and lonely. I leave and lock the door, feeling sad myself. Poor Poopsie.
When I get back into my house, it's poor me. In just fifteen minutes I have the dreaded meeting with Dalton while he's on break from his deli job at The Little Store. That's how long it'll take to walk there if I move fast.
I look at my clock. I should really get going. I hear Doodles opening drawers in her room. I'd better check on her. You know those ten year olds. Always fusing their fingers together with superglue, or cutting their hair with pinking shears.
"What's up?" I ask. She's sprawled out on her rug beside a large white poster board, a red marker in her hand.
"I'm making signs," she says. "To sell ice pops. I'm gonna put all the money I earn in there." She points to a glass cookie jar she swiped from the kitchen. "You can put your money from Poopsie watching in there too. When it gets full, we can give it to Mom and Dad."
"Oh. Great." I should tell her not to bother. I mean, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. "So, you're going to be like the ice cream man?"
"Without a truck. We're going to be rich." She smiles.
"Oh. Sure. That's great, kiddo."
Back in my room, I pace and gnaw on my thumb. How could this happen? How could my parents owe so much money? I wish I could talk to Hari about this, but he's working at his new job at Coffee & Cream. Plus he's like Doodles. He feels so great about helping out. What if I tell him the truth? Maybe he'll insist on quitting college.
I look at my clock. Twelve minutes till Dalton time. I really really should go now.
The phone rings! I pounce on the cordless beside my bed. It's my grandmother, and she's a real talker. This could take an hour. I smile. "Hey, Grandma. What's new?"
"Nobody in my neighborhood," she says.
My mom's mom lives in a retirement community in Seattle called Festive City, but according to her, it's more like "Fussy City." "God help you if you have a weed!" she'd say. I recline on my bed, ready to hear all about her cranky neighbor Phyllis.
She says, "Is your mother there? I have that flight information for her and I need to confirm some details."
I sit up. "You're coming to visit? That's great!" I immediately wonder if Grandma's visit will happen the same time as Raina's. Grandma has never really meshed with the Indian side of the family. Indians instantly include everybody in their family. Uncles treat nieces and nephews like their own children. Cousins are like brothers and sisters. Even in-laws are treated as the closest and dearest of relatives. I think this freaks Grandma out. To her, in-laws are more like strangers you have to be extra polite to. So she usually keeps her distance, even not visiting for the holidays if she discovers an Indian relative will be coming too. Her excuse has always been, "I just can't understand the accent. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."
"I'm not coming, dear. Raina is," Grandma says now.
"I know, but...what?" Wait. How does Grandma even know Raina's name? She barely gets my dad's right.
"Can't you hear?" She's shouting now. "Is this better?"
I pull the phone away from my ear. "Much."
"Trying times," she says. "What would Phyllis say if she could see inside my house right now? Suitcases and clothes everywhere."
"Suitcases?"
"Suitcases," she screams. "Still, Raina seems like a lovely girl. Though I don't really understand her much, it's the---"
"Accent," I say. "I know."
"When they asked if I could keep Raina, along with some of their luggage for a few days while they worked out their accommodation details, I couldn't say no. You know, considering."
"Considering what?"
"CONSIDERING!" she screeches. I hear her mutter, "What a dreadful connection."
Mom pops her head in my room. "Who's on the phone?"
"Grandma," I say.
Mom snags the phone, goes into her bedroom and shuts the door. I look at my clock. Only ten minutes left till I have to meet Dalton. There's no way I can make it to The Little Store in that time. It's all the way by the cemetery. If I had my license and a car I'd be there in a flash, but as it is the only set of wheels I have is...crap. My bike. I can make it in five minutes if I ride.
\*\*\*\*\*
"So why does my grandmother have my Indian cousin at her house? And my grandmother mentioned trying times," I tell Dalton. I think about telling him about the whole money thing, but it feels like some solemn family secret. "Why don't my parents just tell me what's going on?"
"You should ask them," Dalton says. I met up with him at The Little Store, where I'd locked up my bike. Now we're strolling through the Doylestown Cemetery. "How about here?" he says, waving to a white marble bench.
"Sure." We both sit and he hands me a bottle of lemonade from the large brown bag he's carrying. "Thanks," I say. "If you had a choice of telling someone something that will make them really unhappy, or keeping it to yourself so they won't get hurt, which would you do?"
"Hmm. Tough one," he says, digging through the bag.
"Dalton, the thing is, we---"
"Here." He hands me a sandwich wrapped in white paper. "Liverwurst, mayo and lettuce on white toast."
"Oh." I sigh.
"Don't you still like that?"
"I do." It is secretly my favorite sandwich, but I haven't brought liverwurst to school since eighth grade when Trish Crowdly wrinkled her nose and informed me my lunch smelled like someone crapped on my bread. I never brought in liverwurst again. Was Dalton at my lunch table back then? "Thanks, Dalton. This is very sweet."
"Hope you don't mind the surroundings."
"It's quiet," I say, and he smiles at me. His left dimple and my right dimple share a moment before my smile fades. I unwrap my sandwich.
"So what were you saying?"
Unfortunately (or fortunately), I've just taken the world's hugest bite out of my sandwich. So all I can do is point to my mouth and shrug.
"Okay, then let me talk." He takes a swig of his iced tea and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's like this. When you kissed me the other night, you changed my life."
I don't know what to say, so I take another bite.
"Seriously, Sang. You have made me the happiest guy in Pennsylvania, maybe the entire East Coast."
Chew chew chew.
"I will take such good care of you."
Oh God. Chew chew chew.
"I will treat you like a princess." He looks at me through those wire glasses of his. "Sang, I'm crazy about you."
Swallow and gulp.
The next few seconds are slow-mo. He removes his glasses, puckers up and leans in. At the last moment, I turn my head away. Lips hit ear. He pulls away, eyes wide open.
Now everything happens really fast. "Oh," he says. Nothing more. Replaces his glasses. Stuffs his lunch into the bag.
"Dalton, I'm so sorry. It's just---"
He holds up his hand. Looks devastated. "I get it, Sang. Stupid me. Again." He stands. "Gotta work."
I should be happy. The horrible moment is over.
Dalton's head sinks. He starts walking away.
I'm wretched. I've hurt him. He's the sweetest guy on the planet and I'm an absolute monster.
I jump to my feet and shout, "LIVERWURST." This echoes around the gravestones.
Dalton stops.
"I mean, I love liverwurst, but I now have liverwurst breath," I say. "It's really bad for kissing." Saying this will buy me some more time to figure out a kinder, gentler breakup. Plus, who would want to kiss someone with liverwurst breath? Am I right?
No.
The next moment is superhero fast. Dalton drops the bag, whips off the glasses, rushes to me, grabs me, and kisses. He kisses like you'd expect a superhero to kiss. Like Spiderman upside down in an alley. Like mild-mannered Clark Kent transformed into Superman Superkisser. Like the Prince of Persia at the castle's edge, his arm tightly around my waist.
We sink onto the bench and continue to kiss. He pulls away and gives me this slow sleepy smile, and just says, "Sang."
He hugs me and over his shoulder I see a stone cherub smiling at me. It's sitting on a gravestone that says: ETERNAL LOVE.
I'm doomed.
"Thank you, Chachi," Raina says, accepting a glass of lemonade from my mom.
The word "chachi" sends a chill rippling along my neck and down my back. Granted, Mom is Raina's chachi, and Dad is her chacha, or younger brother uncle. But to me, Chachi will forever be my nasty aunt.
Mom must be thinking the same thing, because she says, "Why don't you just call me Aunt?" Raina looks worried, like she might have offended us, until Mom adds, "After all, I am your only American aunt, right?"
Raina smiles sweetly. "Yes, Auntie-ji." 'Ji' is a way of saying honored one. "And thank you so much for dinner. Everything is so delicious."
I practically snort. Mom does okay Italian food, but Indian? Well, she tries. All day today she was in the kitchen poring over an Indian cookbook, chopping onions (and nicking a finger in the process), measuring spices, simmering stuff. The end result? The dahl is too salty and the aloo gobi dish has no salt at all. The rice is sticky and the cabbage and peas dish is slightly singed. Overall, not a bad effort for Mom.
I've left just about everything on my plate. I have zero appetite. This money problem is driving me crazy. What could put a family $150,000 in debt? Gambling? Ha. My parents don't even buy lottery tickets. Blackmail? Not with their ordinary lives.
Last night I'd decided I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to get to the bottom of things. The house was quiet. Hari was out at work, as usual. Mom was out with Doodles on a walk. Dad was reading on the couch. It was the perfect opportunity. I sat next to him. He set aside his book, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and asked, "So, how's my girl?"
And I asked him point-blank, "Dad, what is up with the whole money thing? I'm worried and I really need to know."
"Not to worry," he said. "It's not your concern."
"But, Dad, it is my concern. I'm concerned."
He studied me for a moment. "All you need to know is that everything is under control. Okay, princess?" He gave me his toothy fake smile.
"But what happened?"
"Sangeet," he said in his warning voice, "this conversation is over." And he waved bye-bye to me like I was three.
Now I'm staring across the dining table at Raina. Since she arrived this afternoon, I've been wondering if she knows something.
I realize I've just absent-mindedly forked some cabbage into my mouth. I try to think of a nice way to spit it out. Raina is sitting with perfect posture across from me, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. So I swallow the cabbage and wince.
Since we're only a few months apart in age, somehow I expected Raina to look a lot like me. But she's shorter, probably only 5'3" or so to my 5'6", and she's slender. I'm sort of average and a little hippy. Her skin is much darker than mine, and surprisingly, her hair is cut just above her shoulders. I expected her to have one of those typical long Indian braids running down her back. Raina is also spectacularly beautiful. She has light caramel eyes that sparkle and a gorgeous wide smile. I'd hate her if she weren't my cousin.
Raina is listening attentively to Doodles going on and on about selling ice pops to sweaty kids in the park. "I'll charge fifty cents and make twenty five cents for each one. Everybody loves ice pops." Doodles crosses her arms over her Charlie Brownish yellow and brown striped T-shirt. Once again, her hair is tangled and unbrushed. I swear the kid doesn't look into her mirror at all. I've tried to give her style tips now and then, but it's no use. She's saying, "I'm gonna make lots and lots of money so we won't have to ever live in a box."
"Cherise," Mom says, her voice unusually sharp, "I told you, nobody will have to live in a box."
"Some people live in a box," I say.
"Yeah," Doodles says. "Grandma told me."
"Your grandmother is a very special lady. Very kind," Raina says. "She was most helpful when---"
"So what did you think of Seattle?" Dad says.
"Lovely, really. Of course, I did not see very much. What with all the confusion, and---"
"Of course!" Dad says. Claps his hands. "Well!"
"Well what?" Doodles asks.
"Well, how nice to have Raina here," Dad says.
Raina lowers her eyes. She does know something.
"How do people end up living in a box?" I say, pushing food around my plate with my fork.
"Some have mental problems," Mom says. "Or drug issues. At the mission in Philly they see these things all the time." Mom's one of those super-involved volunteers. Always helping with coat drives in the winter. Food drives in the fall. That type of thing.
"Could a normal family like---oh, us---end up homeless?" I say, carefully laying down my fork. I look at my dad from the corner of my eye. His mouth is set in a tight line.
"Of course," Mom says. "If there's a fire and they lose everything. If they overspend on their credit cards, then lose their jobs. And these days with the bad economy, there are a lot more people out of work."
"But what if---"
"What if. What if," Dad says. "What if the sky falls down?" He pushes his plate aside. There's an awkward silence.
"Well, I gotta go to work," Hari says, standing.
"Again?" Mom says. "Raina just got here."
"Sorry." He shrugs. "Michelle's got me signed up for like every shift she works, which is a lot. See ya later, Raina," he says as he walks out the door.
Michelle Baldarasi is crazy for Hari. He told me she's already asked him out for Tuesday night. So let's see. That means Dalton likes me, I like (liked) Gary, Gary (the supreme idiot) likes Michelle, but Michelle likes Hari.
This makes my stomach churn. Or maybe it's that bite of cabbage.
"Well, we better clean up." Mom stands and starts gathering dishes, the Band-Aid on her nicked finger dangling partway off.
"Please, Auntie, sit," Raina says. "You have done so much. Let me clear."
Mom collapses back onto her seat and gives an exhausted smile. "Are you children listening? You could learn a few things from Raina."
Hey, I help around the house. I do. Sometimes.
I pick up a few dishes and follow Raina into the kitchen. By the time I put my plates on the counter, she's already at the sink, washing dishes by hand. Raina's wearing a deep maroon salwar kameez, which consists of a long tunic shirt that hangs below the knees and a pair of matching leggings. Sometimes the leggings are baggy, but Raina is wearing form fitting ones. The shirt has tiny mirrors stitched all over it and looks so exotic that I feel really drab in my jean mini skirt and navy tank top.
"You don't have to do that," I say.
"No, I do. I insist," she says. "I know how hard it must be for Auntie-ji without any servants to help her." She starts scrubbing out the rice stuck to the pot.
For a moment I think how great it'd be to have servants like people in India do. Then I think how lousy it must be to be a servant. "But you really don't need to wash anything," I say. "Just put water in the pot and let it soak while you put the others---"
"Oh, but I must help."
Amused, I lean my elbows on the counter and watch.
Since arriving two hours ago, Raina has been the perfect guest. Polite. Cheerful. Nothing like Chachi was. She even played Chutes and Ladders with Doodles, telling Doodles that in India it is called Ludo. For some reason, this cracked Doodles up and she kept saying Doodles Ludo Doodles Ludo over and over again. When I offered to play with them, Doodles said, "Why? You hate this game." She's right, but still.
After Raina's delicate hands finish with the pot, I decide she's done enough drudgery. "Raina, meet our servant," I say, opening the dishwasher door.
"Oh. A dishwasher. How silly of me." She looks a little embarrassed.
"You can help me load." I show her how to put in dishes and glasses. "You should have seen me the last time I was in India," I say. "I tried to make a cup of tea in Taiji's kitchen and nearly set the place on fire. Let's just say I'd never lit a gas stove with a starter before."
Raina shows her gorgeous smile. "When we're done," she says, "can I show you some things I brought for you?"
We finish in record time and head up to my room, which suddenly seems to have shrunk to half its size. There's a full-size cot about two feet from my bed, and a full-size suitcase on the floor between the cot and my dresser.
Raina kneels in front of her suitcase and raises the lid. I expect her bag to be filled with salwar kameezes, but instead it's bulging with jeans, T-shirts, silky tank tops and long printed skirts. She digs around the edges and pulls out two bundles wrapped in orange and red tissue paper. She peeks inside one. "This one's for Cherise." She sets it on the cot. "Why do you call her Doodles?"
"Like Cheese Doodles. It's a snack food. When she was little she used pronounce her name as 'Cheese.'"
Raina chuckles and hands me my gift.
The phone rings but someone picks up fast downstairs. So we sit on the cot as I unwrap a three-inch high stack of glass bangles, ranging in color from red to green to blue. I slide them over my wrist and give them a shake, making them jingle. "Thanks. These are really great! I feel so bad. I haven't gotten you anything."
"Don't be silly. You are hosting me in your room. What better present is there?" She pats back a yawn.
"Raina," Mom shouts up the stairs. "Phone for you."
"Oh," she hops off the bed. "Must be Mummy and Papa." She picks up the cordless. "Yes, hello Mummy. Ha-ji. Ha-ji. No. The flight was teek-tock. Ha."
Teek-tock. That's a funny one.
"No, Mummy. I won't." Raina sits on my bed and lowers her head. "What would be the point? Ha-ji. I know it is for my own good, but---" Raina holds onto the end of her salwar and twists it round and round her finger. "I said I wouldn't. Yes. I will be. No no. Papa doesn't need to. Mummy, please." Raina says this in such an exasperated way, I begin to think we have lots in common. When she ends the call, her brow is furrowed.
"Parent troubles?"
She blinks at me. "No no."
"So what was she bugging you about, then?"
"Usual motherly worries. Be good. Eat right. Dress warm. Never mind. Oh, there is one more thing I must give you." She goes back to her suitcase.
"Raina, no more. I feel bad enough as it is."
"But this one is not from me." She pushes aside flip-flops, a brush, and a Bollywood magazine with a gorgeous guy on the cover. His white shirt is open, his ripped chest exposed like he's Jake-ji Gyllenhaal-sahib.
"Who is that?"
"John Abraham. Huge Indian star."
"He doesn't sound very Indian."
"Oh, but he is. Born and bred. He's such an excellent actor."
"Plus he's hot."
"Oh yes. No doubt." Raina laughs. "Here it is." She sits back on her heels with a small jewelry box in her hand and lets out a huge gaping yawn. "Oh, excuse me!"
Before Raina hands me the box, I already know what it is. "My birthday necklace," I say.
"Compliments and love from Taoji Ravinder," she says.
Taoji used to send me a special datebook every year, believing that it would help me to earn top grades. For some bizarre reason, he's convinced I'm going to become a Rhodes Scholar and then president of the United States. He even calls me his "scholar girl." Now that I'm older, instead of a datebook, he's started sending me golden pendants inscribed with inspiring messages. Last year's read, "Lead Wisely."
I smile at Raina and open the box. There, sure enough, is a necklace with a round golden pendant on which is inscribed, "Expect Great Things!"
I don't exactly see myself as world leader material, but I'd never tell Taoji this. He's the one person in the world who believes in me no matter what, even when it doesn't make sense. When I was around three, on my first trip to India, we visited Taoji Ravinder and Taiji Parveen. Taoji would sweep me off the ground and rest me on his shoulders. I remember feeling so tall and important, clinging to his neck and resting my cheek on his stiff turban. There was nothing I couldn't do.
During my second visit when I was five, we were going to have a picnic on the rooftop of his building. The dark stairwell was steep. Everyone except for me was carrying up a chair. I was too tiny, so my dad was carrying mine. I begged and begged to carry my own. "Sorry, Sangeet," Dad said. "You are too little."
"Nonsense," Taoji Ravinder said, squeezing my arm. "Look at those muscles. And that determination in her eyes." I beamed. "She can do it," Taoji said. My father insisted I would fall. Still, Taoji handed me the chair. It weighed an impossible amount. I struggled, bumping it up step by step, almost in tears from the effort. When I finally reached the rooftop, everyone sat waiting. "Ah, there she is!" Taoji rushed to me and set my chair with the others. He squatted in front of me and said, "You mark my words. You are a very special little girl, my darling." Taoji touched my nose with the tip of his finger. "You can do anything you want to. And you are going to grow up and make your Taoji so so proud." I remember nodding, believing every word he said. And I remember welling up with love for my smiling uncle.
Now I take the pendant out of the box and hold it up. It spins on its chain, flashing as it catches rays of the setting sun. Hmm. Maybe Taoji has a point. Why not expect great things? Maybe I can do anything I want. I can even fall in love this summer. I shouldn't give up so easily. Maybe Dalton is the one. Or maybe Gary isn't a total lost cause. Or maybe 'the one' is out there somewhere just waiting for me. "Taoji's so great," I say, putting the necklace on. "How's he doing?"
Raina crinkles her brow and turns to her suitcase. "Is there somewhere else you want this monstrosity?"
"It's fine there," I say. "How is Taoji?"
"I should give Doodles her present." She picks up Doodles's gift.
"Raina, what's up?"
"Nothing. Why?" She gives me a fake smile. It's all toothy, just like my dad's.
My heart starts to pound. "Has something happened to Taoji?"
Raina looks at the floor.
"Raina, please."
Nothing.
"Raina, he's my taoji too."
Raina is silent for a long while. Suddenly she goes to the door. I think she's leaving, but instead she closes the door and turns to me. "Sang, I am so sorry. Uncle-ji didn't want me to say."
\*\*\*\*\*
Raina's sleeping like the dead from jetlag---not only because of the trip from Seattle, but also because of the one from India a few days before. And me? I'm lying in bed in the dark, reeling from what my cousin has told me.
Myelofibrosis. Taoji has myelofibrosis. It's a rare kind of bone cancer. He needs a bone marrow transplant and he needs it fast. They wouldn't do the surgery in India because the medical community there felt he was too old. So he's over in Seattle getting it. Raina's dad, Taoji Munjeet, is a bone marrow match, so he is the donor. He and Raina's mom (Taiji Suria) and Taiji Parveen are staying in an apartment provided by the hospital, waiting for the costly procedure to start. Taoji's insurance won't cover it.
So that explains the money problem. But it doesn't explain why my parents wouldn't tell us. Raina thought they didn't want us to worry. They were protecting us. But I don't feel protected. I feel hurt and angry. Raina also thinks it could be typical Indian superstition. Maybe my father is just like her dad, and believes that speaking about it might make the worst happen. She may be right. I've seen Dad afraid to talk about an upcoming job promotion because he might jinx it. Or not admit he was starting to feel symptoms of a cold because he believed talking about it would doom him to pneumonia or something.
After Raina told me all this, I wanted to corner my parents and tell them how I felt. Get the whole story. But Raina grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. She begged me not to say a word to anyone because she promised my dad she wouldn't tell.
More secrets.
How is this cancer thing even possible? Last time I saw Taoji, he was fine. True, it was almost two years ago, but still, he was his usual warm and smiling self. He even helped us get rid of Chachi. Because of him, she is now living in an apartment near her son's graduate school.
But suddenly an image flashes into my mind. It's of Taoji at the gurdwara. We had all visited the Sikh temple in New Jersey. Like everyone else there, Taoji kneeled in front of the holy book. I remember watching him struggle to stand again. At the time, I thought it was probably just a touch of arthritis. I should have run to him. Helped him up.
I roll onto my side and sigh.
I hear some sniffling. Raina's crying.
"Hey, you okay?" I ask.
No answer.
Bright orangey sunshine burns through my lids. I open my eyes and immediately squint, holding up a hand to shade away the hot sun.
"Here, let me help you." A strong hand reaches down and pulls me to my feet.
It's a guy, tall and bare-chested, his face silhouetted by the glare. "I missed you," he says.
"You did?"
"I did." He moves to the left, out of the immediate sun.
"Gary, I didn't recognize you." My heart thrums in my ears. My knees get weak. There are sparks. Lots of sparks. "You're so..." Muscular. Tan. Into me. "You're a lifeguard?"
He shrugs and grins, brushing his long bangs out of his eyes. Then he looks alarmed. He blows on the silver whistle hanging around his neck. "Hey, you! Stop that."
Gary runs past me, a bright orange plastic buoy in his hand. I turn and see him jogging toward the ocean, which is spangled by the sun.
Gary dives in after an old man struggling to stay afloat.
Tweet. Tweet tweet. Whistles blow all around me as other guards figure out what's going on.
Gary pushes the man onto the buoy and waves to me.
Sigh.
Tweet. Tweet tweeeeeet.
Sharp stab in the ribs.
"Come on," Doodles says.
Huh?
"Don't you hear your stupid alarm? We can't be late."
Groan. I slam my hand on the annoying clock. I wish I could do the same to Doodles. She's bouncing on Raina's bed saying, "Hurry, we can't miss a minute. This is gonna be the best."
I cover my head with my pillow.
First a trip to Poopsie land. Then swim lesson day.
My life is hell.
\*\*\*\*\*
It's a hot, sunny day. The sky is bright blue and cloudless. At least a hundred little girls in bathing suits are milling around the pool's cement deck. The boys' swim lessons are held later. Some girls, like Doodles, are excited to be here, chatting happily with whoever will listen. Some are nervous, clinging to their mothers' legs. All are under the age of twelve and most are less than three feet tall. Then there's me. Me sitting alone at the shallow end of the pool, pretending I'm not mortified to be in the Non-swimmer class with kindergartners and preschoolers sitting all around me. I suspect the little girl to my left is wearing swimmy diapers. At least I don't wear swimmy diapers.
I wish Raina would hurry up. She's taking forever in the changing room, even though she already had her bathing suit on under her clothes.
Instructors in blue suits are starting to show up. They're claiming groups of little girls as their students and getting them to line up in neat rows along the pool's edge. Doodles waves at me as she's herded into a line. She's in Beginner One because she's comfortable going underwater. Big shot.
Thank God Raina's in my class too. Where is she?
Crap. I see Trish Crowdly in a tiny blue bikini. Definitely one of the last people I want to see right now.
She and I have a past, and not a good one. Picture this: It's fifth grade, and Trish is in the back of the schoolyard showing the hot pink strap of her new thong to a crowd of shocked and impressed kids. I roll my eyes and Trish says to me, "You're jealous, aren't you?"
I say, "Why would I be jealous that you stick things up your butt?"
The kids all laugh and Trish looks hurt. I feel bad until suddenly Trish yanks down my shorts, and there I am for all the world to see, wearing my high-waisted green Telly Tubbies panties. Telly Tubbies were a silly fad in fourth grade, but by fifth they are out. Not cool. Not cool at all.
Trish squeals with delight and says, "Cool underwear, Tubby Butt."
All I can do is pull up my shorts and run.
Trish continued to call me Tubby Butt for the rest of fifth and sixth grade. In middle school, if I saw her at lunch or in the halls, she'd whisper something to her friends and they'd all stare at me and crack up.
But whatever, right? That's ancient history.
Still, I look away from her now, trying not to think about what I must look like sitting here in my green bikini with its little ruffles around the waist and top. I try to relax. I even smile at the little Diaper Genie next to me, who sticks out her tongue.
Why did I ever agree to come?
Oh yeah. Guilt. Mom laid it on big time. She said we can't get our money back on this one. And I said they should have asked me first. She said I shouldn't waste money, especially now. That shut me up. Still, Dad had to put in his two cents. "Sangeet," he said, "you will listen to your mom. No arguments. Why can't you be like your cousin? Just look at Raina. She isn't complaining. These lessons are important to her too."
As if it's somehow my fault she didn't learn to swim. You'd think with the hot climate and three-quarters of the country surrounded by ocean, everyone in India would be Olympic swim team material. But no. Apparently Sikh parents there don't want their daughters to be seen in bathing suits. Raina's mom, however, heard in the US everybody swims. She figured this was a chance for Raina to pick up the basics for safety's sake. Safety: the parental obsession.
"Anyway," my dad said, "it is just lessons. This isn't the end of the world."
He's wrong. It is. It's five mornings a week for six weeks. For me, that's six long weeks of absolute terror. Okay, it may seem stupid that a nearly 17-year-old girl is so afraid of a little water. But I swear I come by this fear honestly. I was even younger than Diaper Genie when I tried to catch a butterfly that fluttered near the edge of a hotel pool. When it flew straight over the deep end, in I went, and down down down. Straight to the bottom.
I remember looking up at the lens of day above me. Seeing that butterfly, that angel of death, fly out of sight. Clawing my little hands toward the unreachable air. Unable to save myself. Panicked and helpless.
"Hey, you're all sweaty." It's Diaper Genie. "P.U."
I wipe sweat from my upper lip with a shaking hand and splash some water from the pool on my face. I'm not that afraid of water.
"Hey, it is you," someone says.
Oh God, it's Trish pushing aside some kids to sit next to me.
Run! Hide! "Uh, yeah."
"Well at least there's a familiar face around here," Trish says. "First days are tough."
She's civil. I'm shocked. "You're in this class too?"
"Yeah," she says. "Isn't that great?"
Maybe I was wrong about Trish. I mean, how well do I really know her? We've all grown and changed since fifth grade, right? Now she seems pretty friendly. And she can't swim either.
"I'm only doing this because my dad says he'll cut me off if I don't learn to be responsible," she says and rolls her eyes. "He should talk. What's your story?"
"My parents too," I say. "Especially my dad. He---"
She grabs my arm, her sharp manicured nails pinching my skin. "Don't look now, but I see my future husband."
I do look. There is a Roman god by the deep end of the pool. There's no other way to describe him. Short curly brown hair. Dark olive skin. Muscle magazine chest. He's wearing baggy blue guard shorts. I realize it's a guy named Cameron Cerulli. He's in the same year as Hari, and while they aren't friends, I've definitely noticed him over the years at sports events and things like that.
And I'm definitely noticing him now. The hairs on my arms stand on end and my scalp tingles. I'm feeling sparks. Serious sparks. They are practically shooting from my fingertips.
"He's in college," Trish says. "And he's mine."
"Oh." The sparks fizzle and sputter like they've been doused with a bucket of cold water. "How long have you been going out with him?"
"We haven't actually met yet. But I always get what I want. Don't look now!"
More Roman gods? My eyes are all over the place.
But Trish says, "Loser at ten o'clock," and points to the left.
My heart sinks. It's Raina stepping out of the changing room. She looks unbelievably awkward in a stretched out faded red one-piece that even my grandmother wouldn't be caught dead in. Maybe that suit was my grandmother's! As she comes nearer, I notice that her legs are covered with fine dark hair. I ache for her.
"What the hell is she wearing?" Trish says, shedding all remains of kindness.
"It's not so bad," I lie.
"Don't tell me she's coming over here. Is she some girl's babysitter or something?"
Raina approaches us, kneels beside me, and hunches low as if to hide her hideous suit. "Sorry if I am late."
"Parents and sitters have to leave the area during lessons," Trish says.
Raina nods.
"Okay, girls," Trish says, hopping into the pool. The water only comes up to her knees. "Let's get lessons started."
I get this horrible sink-to-the-bottom-of-the-pool feeling. But she couldn't be, could she?
"Sang, you take the girls on the left of you. I'll take the rest," Trish says and smiles.
Trish is the instructor. My instructor. God no! Come one and all to witness the supreme humiliation of Sangeet Tubby Butt Jumnal.
The little girls smile back. One by one they drop into the pool. I reluctantly step in. Then Raina does too.
"Everybody join hands for 'Ring Around the Rosie," Trish says, grinning at each child one by one, till she gets to Raina. "Listen, you have to go. This is for students only. You can wait out in the park."
"Oh," Raina says. "Sorry, but I am a student."
"You're what?" Trish doesn't bother to hide her chuckle. "Okay, then." She rolls her eyes at me as if to say, can you believe her? Now I know for certain that not only is Trish an instructor, but she thinks I am too.
Soon we are singing, "Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies." This isn't so bad. We're going around in a circle. Some of the girls seem a little worried. Others are really into it, singing loudly and jumping with every step. No big deal. I'll just get through this lesson and never show up again. If I ever see Trish after this, I'll tell her I decided the job was lame and quit.
"Ashes, ashes," the girls sing. "We all fall down!"
"Come on, girls, down!" Trish says and dunks her head under the water. Some of the girls dutifully follow. Others stand rock solid. "Everybody, now." Another girl goes under. Another.
I stand rock solid.
Raina holds her nose and dips underwater, emerging gasping and wiping her hair off her face.
Three girls remain, not counting me.
"Come on, ladies," Trish says. "It's easy. Isn't it easy, Sang? Show them."
I don't move.
"I said, show them. Now." Trish's smile is cold.
I can barely shake my head, can barely breathe. I feel Raina take my arm and lead me to sit on the pool steps.
"Right. Well, while my assistant gets her act together, let's play submarine." Trish spreads her legs and the girls prepare to dive underneath them.
"Sorry I'm late." I look up and standing right behind me is Roman Delight Cameron Cerulli. Now I really can't breathe. "I'm teaching with you," he says to Trish. "Name's Cameron."
Trish, the dozen teeny tiny non-swimmers, and probably every female on the planet all sigh at once. Cameron steps into the water, takes a kick board and starts pulling the kids around the pool. "That's right," he says. "Kick. Kick." The girls fight to be next in line. Even Raina gets a spin. Suddenly every girl, even the most timid or awkward, is smiling and giving their best effort.
"Hah," Trish says to me. "Looks like you're replaced, TB."
TB? I tilt my head to one side like Poopsie, trying to understand.
Trish eyes Cameron like he's dessert on a plate. "Seems my dad isn't such an idiot after all. I'm going to actually like this job. Later, TB."
Oh. I get it now. Tubby Butt. Ha ha. I open my mouth but can't seem to say anything.
"So, Cameron," Trish says, standing extremely close to him. "What's next?"
He smiles down at her.
I clench my mouth shut and seethe at the unfairness of it all. Trish is this nasty skank, and yet she gets whatever she wants, including Cameron Cerulli.
Time to cut my losses and disappear. I stand.
Trish is saying, "Everyone line up on this side now. Come on---even you, Saggy Suit."
Raina seems absolutely miserable as she wades across the pool.
"Her name's Raina," I say to Trish.
"Whatever," Trish says.
I clench my fists.
"So who's first?" Cameron is saying.
Raina bravely steps forward, but Trish gives her a shove back. "Why don't you try me first?" Trish says with a seductive smile and runs a fingernail across Cameron's bicep.
"I'm next!" I say, surprised at myself. I hop into the water.
Cameron smirks. "What's your name, little girl?"
"Sang, sir," I say and give him the dimple smile.
"But she's not in this class," Trish says. "Tell him."
"Actually, I am," I whisper. "I'm terrified of water."
"Wow," he says. "Really?" I nod. "We'll just have to teach you to love it then." He gives me a warm smile, takes my hand and leads me into the center of the shallow section.
I feel a thrill at his touch. Best of all, I can practically feel the water steam around Trish, who is burning up with rage. I imagine Cameron holding me in his arms, and Trish's anger becoming so red hot the entire pool evaporates, leaving everyone flopping around the blue cement bottom like a bunch of stranded fish.
"You'll be fine," Cameron is saying to me. "You just have to stick with it."
I stare deeply into his soulful brown eyes. "Oh, I will," I say. "It's a promise."
After the swim lesson, I feel a little closer to Raina. But when we get back to my room, I can't think of anything to say to her. This is stupid, because she's my cousin. And she's not like my cousin Maria on my mom's side---the one I see once a year around Christmas who begrudgingly will sit next to me watching TV while all the adults yak in the kitchen. This is my Indian cousin. My sister.
I can think of some things I'd like to say. Like, would she consider wearing a new bathing suit and shaving her legs? Because I could definitely help her out. Or I could ask her why she was crying last night, even though I'm pretty sure it was about Taoji. But maybe she wasn't crying about Taoji. When you get down to it, I don't really know her at all.
After Raina changes out of her swimsuit, she helps Mom unload and reload the dishwasher. "Are you watching your cousin?" my dad asks. He's sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and reading from a thick textbook for an educator's course he's taking over the summer.
"Yes, Dad. I see," I say.
Later, while I'm lounging on the couch reading a magazine, Raina brings up the laundry and puts the folded towels away in the bathroom closet. After she comes in from hanging all of our damp pool towels on the line to dry, Dad says "That's a good girl," to her.
I visit Poopsie and there are no more poops on the floor. Maybe she was just upset over Mrs. Schnapps leaving. I snap on her leash and walk her around the unfenced yard. After we come in, I snuggle with her on Mrs. Schnapps' red velvet sofa in the living room. She rests her fuzzy chin on my knee, which is really sweet.
"You're lucky you're a dog, you know that?"
Poopsie blinks at me.
"Seriously. You already know how to doggie paddle, so you'll never have to suffer the misery of swim lessons. You don't have to deal with annoying parents because, well, who knows where yours are right now." The dog sighs. "Oh. No offense. Also, you can sleep all day, and you don't have to worry about what your clothes or your hair look like. As for love? Well, you seem pretty content to me." I scratch behind her ears. "Really, if you could just use a toilet instead of having to go outside in front of everyone, you'd have it completely made." I give her a hug and set her down. "Well, see you later." I pick up the key from the foyer table.
Poopsie gives me those sad little puppy eyes, practically breaking my heart. So I grab the leash again. "How about a field trip?"
"No, Sang. Absolutely not," Mom says when I try to bring Poopsie upstairs to my own room. She's planted herself on the steps with her arms crossed.
"Come on, Mom. She's adorable. And she's lonely."
"Dogs are dirty and smelly."
"Aw, look at her, Mom." I pick Poopsie up. "She's not dirty or smelly."
Mom backs up a step. "She's going back home. If she's lonely, spend time with her at Mrs. Schnapps' house."
"But look how cute she is." I hold Poopsie closer to Mom.
Mom holds up her hands. "Get her out."
"Mom, are you afraid of her?"
"No." Mom gives a nervous laugh and smoothes her frizzy hair. "Don't be silly."
"Then I guess you're just heartless." I hug the dog tight and take her back to the Schnapps'.
When I return, I find Raina and Dad sitting side by side on the living room couch looking at a photo album. This reminds me of when I was little and used to snuggle with him in that same spot while he'd read to me. I especially loved hearing the translated stories from The Jataka Tales, which is like an Indian version of Aesop's Fables.
Raina and Dad are listening to one of Dad's old cassettes of screechy Punjabi tunes sung in a nasal voice. They are laughing as they flip through the album. "Just look at your father," Dad says.
"That's Papa?" Raina chuckles. "He's so slim."
"Well, that's long before he met your mother and she started filling his belly with her delicious pakoras. I don't suppose you know her recipe."
"I could ask her, Uncle-ji. And I would be happy to cook them up."
I clear my throat to get their attention, but the tabla drums on the cassette drown me out. "That's just what we need around here," Dad is saying. "Some good Indian food. If you get the list together, I'll go to Patel's---the Indian market. In fact, you should come with me. It's a distance, but then you can shop for some of the things that will remind you of home. And we can get mangoes. They aren't as good as the ones in India, though. I really miss those. And listen, Channel Thirty-five has Bollywood movies on Saturdays. We can watch them together. I wouldn't want you to get homesick."
"No, Uncle-ji," she says and gives a sad smile. "Who are these other people in the picture?" She points to the album. She and Dad start chattering away in Punjabi. I stand there, the outsider. Maybe this is how Grandma feels when she's around my Indian relatives.
"Hello," I say, loud enough to be heard above the droning singer.
"Sangeet. Join us," Dad says. I move a cushion aside and squeeze in next to him, while he lists the people in the black and white snapshot. "That's me," he says, pointing to a teen wearing a tacky striped shirt, tight pants, and platform shoes. His face is covered with a peach-fuzz beard and he's wearing a patka, which is like a scarf covering up his bun of hair. Sikhs traditionally don't cut their hair, and the boys and men both pull it up into a knot on their heads. But while the men cover this with a turban, the boys only wear the patka, a half-turban. Of course, now there's nothing traditional about my dad, who has a shaved face and short hair. And an American wife.
"You look interesting," I say.
"Oh. Thanks a lot."
"I mean, you look really different now."
"Older, you mean. There's Raina's papa, Taoji Munjeet."
Wow. He is skinny. It has been a long time since I've seen this taoji, but one thing I do remember of him is his beach ball belly.
"This is your chacha." Dad's voice catches a bit when he says this.
Even though in this picture Chacha looks as young as Doodles, I can still recognize his kind smiling face. He died a few years ago from heart trouble, leaving behind his nasty wife, Chachi, and a son, Raj, who is older than Hari and who I don't know at all. Probably because evil Chachi was never into family togetherness.
"And this is..." Dad says, pointing to a tall young man squinting against the bright sunshine. Dad seems unable to say anything more.
"Taoji Ravinder," I say.
At once I'm transported to New Delhi during my third and most recent visit there. I was on the balcony of Taoji's apartment during a winter afternoon that felt like early fall in Pennsylvania. Taoji and I lounged on wicker chairs, squinting into the glittering sunshine and sipping tea. I was twelve but I felt terribly adult, balancing the fine china cup on its saucer in my lap, while telling him all about the visit to the bazaar with my parents. The way I bargained and bargained with a vendor for the lowest price on a beaded necklace, until the vendor threw his hands up in the air and said he'd never met such a tough shopper. "Very nice," Taoji said, admiring my necklace. He smiled, making the laugh lines around his glinting eyes deepen. "But you know what is most impressive? That you did not give up. Let me tell you a little secret." He took a last sip from his cup, set it on the tiny table between us, and leaned closer. "If you hang onto that spirit you have, if you always fight for what you want, you can accomplish anything. Anything at all. Even become president of the United States."
I laughed. "Me?" It was ridiculous. I was skinny, pimply, klutzy. My crooked teeth were covered with hideous braces. I knew I was a below-average seventh-grade student and not terribly great at anything.
Taoji took my teacup from me and set it on the table beside his. Then he took my hand. "Sangeet, it is all about having goals. Setting your mind to things and truly working at them. Not just learning what your teachers tell you or doing what is expected of you. I tell you, darling, actively pursuing knowledge and always doing right---now that is the mark of a true leader. You are exceptional. You will be a true leader."
At that moment I could see myself reflected in his eyes. And for that one moment I wasn't hideous. I was full of possibilities and promise. I felt like I had just unwrapped a tremendous gift. My throat became tight. And suddenly I threw my arms around my uncle and hugged him, nearly knocking our teacups off the table.
That August he sent me my first datebook planner. I became his scholar girl.
\*\*\*\*\*
Later in the kitchen, Raina helps Doodles load a cooler with ice pops. I know I should be glad. If Raina weren't here, Dad would definitely force me to do it. To drag a cooler downtown. To sit in a park beside the cardboard sign Doodles made, praying that I won't see anyone I know.
"Why don't I come with you guys?" I ask.
"No thanks," Doodles says.
"Fine," I say. "Just being helpful." I glance at my parents, who are now both sitting at the dining room table. Dad is highlighting his textbook. Mom is staring at piles of paper spread in front of her and jabbing at a calculator with the eraser end of a pencil. And neither one of them has noticed my generous gesture.
The kitchen phone rings. "Should I get it?" Raina asks.
"I'll do it," I say, picking up the phone.
The voice on the other end is faint and wheezy. "H-hello? H-h-hello?"
A crank caller? For a second I think of hanging up. "Hello," I say, in a skeptical voice.
"Ah, my scholar girl."
"Taoji," I say, my voice sounding nearly as bad as his.
Dad sets down his highlighter and stands.
"Hah, darling, how are you?" Taoji breaks into a coughing fit. He sounds horrible.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. What can I say? I'm terrible? I'm worried he's going to die? I'm angry at my dad?
"Sangeet?" he says. "Hello?"
I swallow. Still no words form. I can't ask him how he is. What could he say? Sick? Maybe dying?
My dad says, "Is it Taoji Ravinder?"
I can't answer. All I can do is picture my Taoji---not all sharp looking like he usually is with his turban on and his beard rolled and tucked. Instead I imagine him like I've seen him first thing in the morning at the breakfast table: his long hair in a surprisingly thin bun on his head, his beard hanging and straggly. Undone.
"Well?" Dad says. "Speak to him, then."
My throat feels closed. My heart feels tight. I can't. I just can't. I hand the phone to Raina and hurry away.
\*\*\*\*\*
The next day at lessons, I do not put my face in the water. To my relief, no one seems to notice. Trish and Cameron are too busy trying to coax four of the most fearful little girls to go under. At the end of the lesson, though, Cameron corners me.
"Have you thought about a private lesson? To, you know, get over your fear."
"A private lesson? With you?" I stare into his beautiful dark eyes and again feel a spark.
"Sure. I could make time for you as early as this afternoon."
I notice Trish staring at us with a sour expression. "That sounds perfect," I say.
After class, I'm back at home trying to strike a deal with Doodles.
"No way. Get your own money," she says and sits on her bed. Her arms are wrapped around the glass cookie jar, which now holds about three inches of coins and bills.
"It's just a loan, Doodles," I say. "For a lesson that will keep me from drowning. You don't want me to drown, do you? I'll pay you back as soon as Mrs. Schnapps gets back and pays me."
"You're already taking lessons. Mom's already paid for them." Doodles slides the jar onto her night table. "And besides, Mom and Dad need this money."
"Come on, Doodles. It's only twenty bucks."
"It's for Mom and Dad, not you." She raises her chin and looks smug.
"But look, you've got tons." Actually, it's probably no more than forty dollars. Not bad for the ice pop business, but nowhere near enough for any sort of surgery. If I told her how much Mom and Dad really need, it would quickly wipe the smug expression off her face. "What if I pay interest?"
After I explain to her what interest is, the deal is quickly done.
Twenty dollars. Twenty-two if you count the interest. That's the price for spending an hour one on one with Cameron. Worth it.
During the afternoon, the pool is open to all members and it's pretty crowded. Still, Cameron and I have managed to find a semi-quiet corner. Between holding onto his arm and kicking, and him trying to convince me to blow bubbles in the water, we've completely pissed off Trish. She tried to talk with Cameron, but he flat-out said, "Not now. I'm working."
Cameron and I get to talk plenty. I find out he's going to be a junior at the University of Maryland and he's on the wrestling team.
When he asks me why I'm so afraid of water, he does it so sweetly that I feel comfortable telling him what happened.
"Wow. Harsh," he says. "Let's work on floating. If you know you can float, then you'll have nothing to fear, right? Turn around and lean back."
"I'll sink."
"I'll hold you," he says. So I do as he says and he holds me by the shoulders. Sparks! "Tilt your head back."
I do and get an amazing view of his chest. Serious sparks!
\*\*\*\*\*
"So Dalton called and before I knew it, he made a date with me for the movies. Megan, what'll I do?"
"At least you get to see each other," she says to me. She sucks morosely on her smoothie. "David and I have spent zero time with each other."
We're sitting in the blazing sun at one of the picnic benches in front of Planet Smoothie, and I have Poopsie on a leash. She was so happy on the walk over here, and I loved being tugged along by her. If only Mom weren't such a neat freak, maybe I could have a dog.
"You're working, Megan," I say. "You can't help being busy." I tug Poopsie's leash to keep her from licking an old blob of smoothie from the pavement.
"I have off tonight. I thought he'd be so excited to see me, but you know what he said?" Her harp seal eyes become teary. "He said, 'Sorry, I'm busy.' So I say, 'Busy doing what?' And he changes the subject. I really think something's up."
"You're imagining things." I kick off my flip-flops and rest my feet on the next bench, trying to be summery and relaxed. Even though I'm completely uptight. And it's not just this upcoming disaster date with Dalton. Taoji keeps popping into my mind. And cancer. Taoji and cancer. I tried to look up his disease on the computer and got ten results. Ten. Out of all cyberspace. None said anything about the disease, except that it's rare. Most listings were death notices.
Megan doesn't even know about Taoji's illness. I can't seem to talk about it. Maybe I'm superstitious, like Dad. Or maybe pretending it isn't real will magically make it all go away.
"I am not imagining things, Sang. He's losing interest in me. Or there's someone else."
David and someone else? "Megan, you're crazy."
"Do not negate my feelings. They are valid."
Okay, never call the daughter of two therapists crazy. "I'm not validating your negativity, or whatever. I'm just saying there is no way David is losing interest in you. He is head over heels about you. You know that. Poopsie, stop it." I wrestle my flip-flop from the dog's mouth. It's pockmarked with teeth prints. I scoop Poopsie onto my lap.
"I thought I knew how he felt. And to think I was actually going to tell him I love him."
"Oh, Megan. You will tell him and it'll be wonderful." Love. "Hey, what's being in love feel like?"
"I don't know. It's something you just sense in your gut, I guess. A closeness."
I'm thinking about Gary and wondering if he's thinking about me. Maybe he's realized this whole Michelle thing is just a silly passing crush.
Speaking of crushes---Cameron Cerulli. He's like a movie star: gorgeous and completely unattainable. I lean my chin on my hand and smile, remembering the way it felt when he held my shoulders. The electricity. I imagine him giving me that warm smile of his, tilting closer, our lips just about connecting and---hot tongue in my nostril. "Poopsie!" I wipe my nose and push the dog off me. Her nails leave scratches on my thighs.
Megan sighs. "Why's David being like this? Now I'm not so sure telling him is ever going to happen." She hands me her cup. "Finish this. I'm smoothied out."
I stir the drink with the straw. "Megan, you need to relax. I'm sure David has a legitimate reason for being busy."
"Such as?"
I look at my scratched thighs. "His embarrassing skin condition and a bunch of dermatologist appointments?"
"Ew," she says, looking much cheered.
"So, now that we got you squared away, what about me and Dalton? And Gary?"
"Gary? Forget Gary, Sang. He let you down. Don't tell me you are still hung up on that guy?"
I think of saying something about negativity and validity, but instead say, "No. Of course not. That'd be crazy, right?"
To my deep dismay she says, "Insane. Only a masochistic, insecure idiot would continue to pursue that relationship. Am I right?"
"Of course," I say, not making eye contact.
"Sang, now you've got Dalton, this sweet guy who is crazy about you. Plus he's a hot-lipped kisser. It's all good."
"But it isn't all good. Not by a long shot." I think about Dalton, but feel nothing. Aside from when we're kissing, there's no chemistry between us. No sparks at all.
"It is good," Megan says. "Now you have a date for Anna's party. And you can finally get that dress."
Me and Dalton at the party. I'm wearing that dress. I'm saying those three magic words. "Megan, it's all wrong. Help!"
"You really want to break up with Dalton?"
"Yes," I say, thinking masochistic, insecure, idiotic thoughts about Gary. "Well," I say, thinking smoochy, sweet thoughts of Dalton. "Kind of."
"Oooh, Sang. You and Dalton. You know what? This sounds like love!" Megan stands.
"This is not love. Look, you're not working tonight. Why don't you come with us to the movies?" I envision Megan sitting between us.
"I can't. When David said he was busy, I signed on for a double shift."
I groan.
"Would you relax? It's not like Dalton's going to bite."
An image of Dalton giving me a wicked hickey springs to mind.
Megan puts her Planet Smoothie cap back on. "Well, my break's over. Tell me all about your hot date later."
"There is going to be nothing to tell."
She gives me a knowing smile. "It's love, Sang. You know what they say: he who denies it, supplies it."
"Megan, that's not love. That's a fart."
I step out of my front door and Dalton gives me a peck on the cheek. To avoid looking him in the eye, I stare at the green minivan in the driveway.
"It's my mom's," Dalton says. "Not exactly a hot set of wheels."
"Who cares? At least your have your license."
"A Cinderella license, but I'm not complaining."
In Pennsylvania, young drivers who are new behind the wheel can't be on the road past 11 p.m. Dalton just got his license two weeks ago. Good thing my dad is still out at his class. If he were here, he'd grill Dalton until I'd die of embarrassment, and then he'd forbid me to go in Dalton's car. Dad's convinced that any driver under the age of forty is a drag racer.
"You look really nice tonight," Dalton says, even though I don't. Not really. If this were really a date I would have put on my sundress (the blue one with the halter top) and I'd have worn sandals and some makeup. Instead I'm wearing white cotton shorts and my gray Ocean City T-shirt.
Actually, Dalton's the one who's looking good. He's wearing faded jeans and a plaid short-sleeved shirt (untucked, thank God). His hair, which is usually so neatly combed, is just messy enough to be stylish. It's like someone gave him a makeover, transforming him from the Nice Nerd into the Summer Sweetheart. Even his face is a little more tan since I last saw him in the cemetery, where we were making out like crazy.
Great. Now I'm blushing.
"We'd better go, or we'll miss the movie." He takes my hand.
The bangles I'm wearing jingle as I pull my hand away. "Listen, Dalton. I meant to say something earlier---"
"Sorry. I'm here," Raina says, bursting out the front door. Her lips are shiny with gloss, and she's dressed in jeans and a pretty purple silk top. Cute wedge sandals make her look elegant and not quite so short. "You must be Dalton."
"Hi. Raina, right?" He smiles, left dimple appearing. "Nice to meet you."
"Thank you for having me along to the movies," she says.
"Uh, sure," he says, giving me a questioning look.
I mouth to him, "Sorry." But I'm not.
After the movie, we hang out in Coffee & Cream.
"So, let me get this straight," Dalton says to Raina. "You actually have to buy tickets with seat numbers on them for the movies? Like you're going to see a play or something?"
"Movies are so popular in India. Our movie houses are huge, but still they sell out. You have to buy early for the very best seat."
I sip my cappuccino and think it's too bad Michelle and Hari are out on their date now or maybe we could have gotten free coffees. What's left of my meager funds from babysitting last month is shrinking fast, and it'll be weeks before the Poopsie job pays. I almost wish I hadn't insisted on paying for my own movie. Instead I could have put my dollars back into Doodles's jar. But that wouldn't have been fair to Dalton. And it wouldn't have made the slightest dent in Taoji's medical bills.
Tonight is going even better than I thought it would. At first Dalton looked a bit sulky, especially when Raina sat in the front of the minivan and I took the back seat. Then, in the County Theater, there was a dicey moment when Raina almost sat down between us and Dalton started to look frustrated. Then Raina said she preferred to sit on the end seat. She even gave me a sly look as if she were doing something clever. It worked out okay, though. Dalton didn't try anything during the movie.
Aside from those incidents, I'm actually enjoying myself. I do like hanging out with Dalton. He's a good guy. He's just not the one. And tonight Raina seems less formal---more relaxed and real somehow.
"Your theaters are so so tiny," Raina is saying. "I can hardly believe it."
"Oh, that's just the County," I say. "They're usually much bigger. The Regal outside of town has twenty-two screens."
"I read somewhere that India is the world's biggest producer of movies," Dalton says. "Bollywood, right?"
"Very good." Raina tips her head at him.
"Actually, Raina lives in Bollywood," I say.
"Bollywood is Mumbai," she says. "It used to be called Bombay, you know? We live in a colony on the outskirts."
"Like an ant colony?" I say and grin.
"No no. All family members live there," Raina says.
I'm confused for a moment. "Oh. You thought I meant aunt. Like aunt and uncle. I meant bugs."
"No bugs. It is very clean. We are in the government flats because Papa works for the Ministry."
"So is it just like Hollywood there?" Dalton asks. "Do you see lots of movie stars?"
"Sometimes we spot them walking around, looking very smart. I remember once as a child, my parents and I were walking around Juhu Beach. That's where there are so so many expensive flats. Aishwarya Rai walked right past me and waved." When we don't react, Raina says, "Don't tell me you have never heard of her. I thought she was big the world over."
Dalton and I shake our heads.
"She was in Bride and Prejudice. That was huge in the states, wasn't it?"
"I saw that," I say. "I kind of remember her."
"She is absolutely beautiful, I tell you," Raina says. "And when she waved at me, I was so impressed I swore to myself then and there I'd become an actress."
"Really?" I say. "I bet you'd be good."
"I would be horrible," Raina says and laughs. "I am too short. Besides, Mummy would faint if I were to go into such a profession."
"So what else do you want to do?" Dalton asks.
"To study law," she says.
"Impressive." Dalton smiles at her, and I feel a pang. Of what, I'm not sure.
Raina excuses herself to use the bathroom. Dalton and I wait for her outside on the sidewalk, which is full of kids licking ice cream cones and adults strolling arm in arm.
"So what do you want to become?" Dalton asks.
"I have no idea," I say, suddenly too aware of the "Expect Great Things!" pendant weighing around my neck. Megan wants to go into Marine Biology and save the environment. Hari wants to be a teacher. David wants to be Bill Gates, only smarter and richer. Even Doodles talks about running her own business. And Sang Jumnal? Apparently she plans to be useless. "Well, what about you?"
"Architect," he says, shrugging. "Your cousin seems nice."
I nod.
"You're nicer," he says. He twines his fingers into mine and I find myself smiling. "So, do you know what you're wearing to Anna's party yet?" he asks.
"No. I mean, I did know, but I don't anymore. Why?"
"Because I'm going, and you're going, and someone might want to buy you a matching corsage."
For a moment I wonder, what if I'm wrong? What if Dalton is the one? "But that's not for two and a half weeks."
"True. So, when is our first real date going to be?" he says. "How about dinner this week?"
"Hey, Sang. Dalton." Gary Westbrock walks up to us wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His arm muscles aren't huge, but they are nice. I'm feeling some sparks. I'm feeling some confusion. Gary says, "So what's up with you two? Huh?" He waggles his eyebrows at us.
I immediately untwine my fingers from Dalton's.
"We just saw a movie," Dalton says, putting his arm around me.
I stand stiff and look for a reaction in Gary. Clenched fists, awkwardness, anything.
Gary just nods at us. Says, "Cool."
"Cool," I say, gravel in my throat. Megan's right about me. I am such a complete idiot.
"Ready to go?" Raina asks, appearing at my side.
I introduce her to Gary and we chitchat for another minute. Gary says he's got to leave, but first he has to grab a coffee from Coffee & Cream. Like he's going in for coffee. I almost tell him Michelle is not there, but on a date with my brother. Instead, I say, "Well, take care," in a casual voice. I wrap my arm around Dalton's waist. Again, no reaction---unless you count Raina, who raises her eyebrows.
"Well, see ya," Gary says. "Oh, Raina, you sticking around Doylestown for a while?"
"For a while," she says and shows her dazzling grin.
"Then I guess I'll see you when I get back from camp."
What the hell does that mean?
"Your boyfriend Dalton is very nice," Raina says in a low voice.
"Raina, he's not my boyfriend." Nobody, really, is my boyfriend. By tomorrow morning Gary will be gone to camp. He's already gone from my life. My life sucks.
"Oh, but I thought... Sorry."
I just got back from letting Poopsie out, and now Raina and I are standing in our pj's in my room. Only I guess it's now our room. And Raina's not exactly in pj's. She's in what my dad calls a night suit. Sort of a thin cotton version of a salwar kameez. Looks to me like a lot to wear on such a hot night. The floor fan sweeps back and forth, but aside from rustling my picture of Jake Gyllenhaal, it doesn't seem to do much.
"Another day down the toilet," I mutter. Brooding, I walk toward my bed and bang my leg on the metal frame of Raina's cot. "God!" I rub my shin a few times.
"Sorry, Sang," Raina says.
"No problem," I say, tripping on a pair of her flip-flops and falling into my own bed. I lie there looking at the devastation around me. It's like Raina's suitcase has exploded, shooting jeans onto the floor and shirts onto the knobs of my closet doors. My dresser is clogged with her brushes and make-up bottles and a tangle of necklaces. Earlier today, neat freak Mom peeked in on us and practically fainted. But instead of asking Raina to clean things up, she just held her throat and said, "Well, I see you're all moved in now. How nice." It's the whole 'she's a guest' thing, I guess.
"Good night, then," Raina says, lying on the cot.
"Good night." I click off the light and listen to the rustle of the poster and the creak of Raina's cot as she tries to get comfortable. "Raina?"
"Ha?"
I'm confused for a moment, until I remember that's Punjabi for 'yes.' "When Taoji called, he sounded pretty bad, didn't he?"
"He had TB. It was hard on the lungs."
TB. Tubby Butt? "Oh. TB. Like tuberculosis? Isn't that gone from the world?"
Raina doesn't answer. The silence between our beds stretches long and wide, and I'm convinced she isn't going to talk to me anymore tonight. Or possibly ever. Maybe I've pissed her off.
Just as I close my eyes, she says, "Lots of Indians have TB and don't even know it. It's no big deal."
"Really?"
"The doctors back in India gave Taoji medicine, which cleared it, and now he just has some cough. They had to cure the TB before anyone would agree to treat his myelofibrosis with a BMT."
"BMT?"
"Bone marrow transplant."
"Right." TB, BMT, EMT, ICU, ER. Who knew a bunch of letters could be so scary? "I think it's amazing that your dad is helping Taoji and being a donor."
I hear Raina sigh and wonder if her dad, by giving his own marrow away, is in any danger. And I wonder if she is going to be crying again tonight. I roll onto my side, facing my window. I feel like I'm going to cry, too. This isn't what summer is supposed to be like. Not at all.
"Okay," I say. "So he is my boyfriend. But not really."
"I knew!" she says and flicks on the light. "Tell."
So we both sit cross-legged while I spill my guts about Dalton. I leave out the whole Gary thing, because now it's not exactly relevant. We talk like sisters at last. When I'm finished, Raina is biting her lip and smiling.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing. Don't worry. I won't tell Uncle and Auntie anything."
I shrug.
She studies me. "Wouldn't your parents kill you if they knew about your," Raina says, then whispers, "boyfriend?"
"Not exactly."
"And you can hold hands in front of them? Perhaps kiss?" She's looking at her feet and blushing furiously.
I imagine Dalton and me in the graveyard. I imagine Dad smashing a cherub over my non-boyfriend's head. "Not exactly."
"So it isn't like 'One Tree Hill', then?"
"'One Tree Hill'?"
"I always watch it on TV back in India and wondered if in America..."
"Raina, my life is so not 'One Tree Hill.'"
"Mine either." Raina shakes her head. "When my parents found---They wouldn't let me have any sort of boyfriend."
"Not ever?"
"Not until it is time to get engaged. Like around college."
"That completely sucks."
Raina wrings her hands. "They know what's best. They are trying to protect me."
"Protect you from---wait. When your parents found what?"
Raina covers her face with her hands.
"Come on, Raina. I just told you my whole life story." I pull her hands away. "You can trust me. I swear."
"There is nothing to tell," she says. She doesn't look me in the eye.
After our chat, Raina quickly drifts off. But I can't sleep. My mind is too crammed with stuff to worry about. Even though I tell myself that Taoji will be fine. That Dalton will be fine. That Gary doesn't matter to me. That I won't die in my third swim lesson tomorrow. Fourth, if you count the private lesson.
In the moonlight I can see Raina is sound asleep. What would happen if she liked a guy in India? Maybe she had a guy she liked. Maybe her parents wouldn't even let her talk with him. Will she have to wait till she's engaged for her first kiss?
Hmm, kissing. Kissing Dalton.
Don't go there, I think. But I do. And in a hurry. Too bad we're breaking up, really. From the kissing standpoint, that is.
I smile and close my eyes, thinking of Cameron. Of swim lessons. I picture myself drowning and my eyes spring back open.
Sure, Cameron will be at the pool. But what good will that be to me when I'm a bloated corpse floating in the shallow end? I imagine the funeral. My body bobbing in the water surrounded by a circle of preschoolers holding hands and singing "Ring Around the Rosie." And when they get to the "all fall down" part, my body is sucked into the deepest depths, where the music becomes eerie and distant and...wait.
I sit up, realizing I hear real music. Guitar music.
Hari.
I scramble out of bed and again crack my shin on Raina's cot. I wince in pain, but Raina doesn't stir. I stumble into the hall, and follow the gentle strums downstairs and out to the backyard.
The middle of the yard glows with silvery moonlight, but the edges are buried in black shadow from surrounding trees. Hari is perched on our picnic table, his feet resting on a bench. I let the screen door snap shut behind me and sit beside him.
"What are you doing up?" he asks, as he continues to pick out a sad and lonely tune.
"Couldn't sleep," I say. "How was your date?"
Hari does a loud strum and laughs. "Wild. Michelle is---"
"Please." I hold up my hand. "No gory details."
"Suit yourself." He lays the guitar on the table behind us and leans over his knees, his hands clasped. "Let's just say I'm not sure she's my type."
"Yes!" I throw my arms in the air.
Hari looks amused. "What? You don't approve?"
"It's just nice to know that someone doesn't like her."
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Explain."
"No." I slap a mosquito on my shoulder. "So, did you let her down easy?"
"Smooth as glass. Except I don't know if it worked."
"Explain," I say.
"No."
We're silent for a while, but all around us the yard is alive with the wind blowing through the trees, sounding like shhhh. Hari picks up his guitar and starts strumming another tune. This time I recognize it. Simon and Garfunkle's "The Boxer."
When the song is done, the last note hangs in the humid air until it's overtaken by the shhhh of the leaves. Hari hits a mosquito on his neck. "So what do you have against Michelle?"
She sort of stole my not-really boyfriend, I think. "Nothing."
"So how was your date?"
"Hari, it was NOT a date."
He chuckles. "My little sister dating. I can't believe it. Tell me about this guy. Is he worthy?"
"There is nothing to tell." Actually, Dalton is the type of guy maybe even my dad would approve of. Smart, kind, helpful, polite. Not that it matters. "Dalton and I are just friends."
"Right."
I smack Hari's face and he's stunned. "Mosquito," I say and grin.
"Thanks."
I stare at the nearly full moon and sigh. "I wish I could just fast forward to college. I want---well, I'm not sure what I want. But I want to make my own choices, you know?" I touch my necklace and think about Trish and all the freedom she must have. "I want to stay out late if I want. Go where I want with anybody I want. Do whatever I feel like. It must be so great."
"What are you whining about? You've got it good, Sang."
Right. I have a guy I can't break up with and another guy who can't get a clue, an uncle who is sick and a dad who can't talk about it, and a perfect cousin who makes me look bad without even trying. Plus I get to drown tomorrow.
"Look," he says, "all I'm saying is enjoy where you are right now."
"You mean act my age. Hari, you sound just like Dad."
"I do not."
"Do too." I break into my best Indian accent. "Now listen, you. No nonsense. You are just a child. Buckle up. Fly straight. And there will be absolutely no commingling with other people's body parts."
Hari whacks the back of my head.
"Hey!"
"Big mosquito," he says.
I laugh, and then my smile fails. "Hari, I've got something to tell you. It's about Taoji. About all of us."
I tell Hari everything, swearing him to secrecy. He sits silent for a long while staring out toward the shadows. "I can't believe this," he says at last. "What bull. I'm almost twenty years old. Why wouldn't they tell me?"
"Well it could be the whole superstition thing, like Raina said."
Hari shakes his head. "Unreal."
"You said it." I stare at the surrounding shadows too. "Poor Taoji."
Hari rubs the stubble on his chin. "I wonder where the money's coming from." Hari tells me about the finance class he took last semester. About how Mom and Dad might be getting a loan against the value of our house. Or how maybe they'll use up their retirement money.
"Well at least there are ways to get the money," I say. "That's a relief."
"But if they put up the house for a loan and miss payments, they could lose the house. If they put up their retirement money, they could both have to work forever to take care of themselves."
I imagine them old and wrinkled and bagging groceries at Acme. "Well maybe they have a bunch of money in their savings account."
"No way," Hari says. "A schoolteacher doesn't make that kind of money. It's a stupid career."
"You want to be a schoolteacher," I point out.
"Yeah. Well maybe I'll be a stockbroker instead."
It's Thursday, the fourth day of swim lessons, and I'm still alive. I tell myself the reason I'm still going to lessons is only to protect Raina from evil Trish. Or that I'm going because my parents are forcing me and they spent good money on the lessons. Or that it's because I really should overcome my fear of water.
Okay. All of those reasons may be true. But who am I kidding? The truest reason of all is Cameron Cerulli. He's real easy on the eyes, of course. But I also like seeing how he's so sweet to the little girls in the class. Attentively listening to them tell about what dreams they had the night before. Calling them all Little Mermaids in an adorably lousy Sebastian the Crab voice.
"Kick, kick," Cameron says to me this morning.
I hang onto the kickboard for dear life and do what he says. I can't say no to gorgeous, fabulous Cameron. Clouds fill the sky, but still it's boiling hot. Beads of sweat form on Cameron's upper lip. On his chest.
"That's beautiful," he says.
I smile stupidly and nod. Very beautiful.
"You going under today?" he asks. I shake my head. "Tomorrow? For me?"
I shrug.
"Now you, Jeanette," he says, turning his glowing smile from me and onto Diaper Genie, or perhaps I should refer to her now as Diaper Jeanette.
I sit on the edge of the pool beside Raina, who is wriggling her dark-red painted toenails in the water. Together we watch Cameron's back muscles flex while he bends over the kicking, splashing Jeanette. She's barely hanging onto the blue foam board. "Total amateur," I whisper. Raina laughs.
An annoying voice cuts through the humid air. "But Daddy, you promised," Trish is saying. She's standing on the pool deck talking into her cell. "You said you'd be home for a while. You promised me." Trish notices I'm looking at her and turns away. "Right," she says. "Whatever." She tosses the phone onto a table.
I turn back to Raina. "Maybe we can hang out with Megan tonight if she's not working."
"I've heard so much about Megan," Raina says. "I feel like I know her already."
"She still going out with that David guy?" Trish asks, rudely interrupting.
"Not that it's any business of yours, but yes," I say in an icy voice.
Trish laughs. "They're still together? You're sure about that?"
"What's your point?"
"Just that he's been spending an awful lot of time with my girl Liselle." She grins. "You know," she says in a suggestive voice. Then again, almost everything Trish says is suggestive.
I remember what Megan said the other day. How she was worried because David was acting so secretive. How she was afraid he might be seeing someone behind her back. But come on. Liselle? I try to picture nerdy David with this brunette version of Trish, and I just can't. "Like I'm going to believe you," I say to Trish.
"Just trying to be helpful, TB."
TB. Tuberculosis. "Stop calling me that," I say. "It's not funny, okay?"
"What's not funny?" Cameron says, looking up.
"You're going to love this one," Trish says. She leans over and whispers in his ear.
I look into the water and tears of humiliation start to well in my eyes. Raina asks me what Trish is talking about and I explain it in a low voice.
"I don't understand," Raina says. "Why is she still bringing this up? It happened so long ago. Plus, your butt isn't tubby."
Trish says to Cameron, "Isn't that hysterical?"
"Never mind," Raina whispers in my ear. I can only shrug.
"Actually," Cameron says to Trish, "it sounds pretty cruel."
I glance at Cameron and feel a surge of affection for him beyond the worship-his-loveliness-vibe I've had going.
"Oh," Trish says and for the first time ever she looks uneasy. "No, it wasn't like that." She rubs his bicep. He pulls his arm away. "Sang thought it was funny, didn't you?" she says, narrowing her eyes at me in warning.
"Hysterical," I say in a flat voice.
"Okay, everybody." She claps her hands. "Bubble time!"
"Yeah!" some of the kids yell.
"Coming?" Cameron says to Raina and me.
I give him a grateful smile. I guess I can deal with this. We'll chase bubbles. No problem. Only I don't see any bubble bottles.
"Gather round," Trish says. She's kneeling in the water and the little kids flock to her.
Raina and I kneel in the water near the group.
"Now everybody, go like this!" Trish puts her face in the water and blows.
I feel my stomach clench.
Trish lifts her face and smiles. I realize she looks perfect. Plastic but perfect. Then I realize she's wearing waterproof makeup. Figures.
"Now everybody. Make like Nemo." Trish puts her face in and so does Cameron. The kids then dip their heads into the water like little ducklings dunking for an underwater feed. I feel sweat prick under my arms, but it has nothing to do with the humid day. Raina has her face in the water, too. All around me bubbles rise like some low-tech Jacuzzi.
There's splashing and gasping as everyone emerges. "Great job," Cameron says, clapping. "You're all expert fish now."
"She's not," Diaper Jeanette says, pointing at me.
"That's right," Trish says. "Thank you for pointing that out, Jeannette."
"Yes," I say through gritted teeth. "Thank you, Jeannette."
"Sang," Trish says with an evil grin, "I'm afraid our class can't continue until every one of the students puts her face in the water. It's not fair, is it class?"
"Nooooo," the girls dutifully answer.
"So put your face in," she says. "Do it." She starts to clap. The whole class starts to chant, "Do it. Do it. Do it."
I look at all the faces shouting at me. At all the hands clapping. At Raina, kneeling quietly. At Cameron, who is clapping along with the others like it's some tremendous joke. My body starts to tremble. The clapping goes faster. The shouting louder. I feel dizzy. I'm falling.
First Raina grabs my arm. Then Cameron grabs my other arm. "That's enough, everyone," Cameron says in a firm voice. The girls all fall silent. I take deep gulps of air.
"Sang, you okay?" Cameron asks.
I manage to nod, barely.
"Oh please. Girls like her are just desperate for attention," Trish says in a sharp voice. She wiggles her rose-tattooed hip as she passes Cameron. His eyes rivet on her as she gets out of the pool and tugs at her teeny blue bikini bottom, which doesn't really cover her bottom at all.
"Promotion time," she says over her shoulder. The class climbs out of the pool. Trish is sitting at a table with little yellow cards in front of her. Raina is standing with her shoulders hunched and her arms crossed over her ugly suit. I really feel bad for her. I resolve to talk about poolside makeover options with her soon.
"Rachel," Trish calls. Rachel, a red-haired freckled five year old steps forward. "Here you go. Tomorrow you report to Beginner One class. Congratulations." Everyone claps.
Lots of girls are called up. Even Diaper Jeanette is called up. She snatches the card and sticks her tongue out at me. I'm not going to miss her. Pretty soon it's just me and Raina and three really little girls, including one who usually spends half the class asking where her mommy is. Whatever.
"One more promotion to give out," Trish says. Double whatever. I bend to get my towel from the chair.
"Raina," Trish says. "Good job." She holds a yellow card out.
WHAT?
"No," Raina says, looking to me with worried eyes. "I'm not ready."
"You're ready," Trish says. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be in that class over there." She points to Doodles's class farther down the pool. "Don't worry. You won't drown. Though I can't say the same for your uncoordinated buddy Sang here." Another evil grin. "Kidding." She flicks the card. It lands at Raina's feet.
I grab my towel and storm out of the pool area.
After that humiliating lesson, of course I tell my mom I want to go home immediately. But since when does what I say matter? So here I am stuck sitting forever in the little park between the parking lot and the pool office. All because Mom promised Doodles she'd let her sell ice pops today.
"Ice pops, only fifty cents. Get your ice pops," Doodles shouts.
"Do you have to yell?" I ask.
"Duh. It's called advertising," Doodles says. "Ice pops! Get your ice pops here."
Raina sits next to Doodles and holds up the sign.
Plenty of little kids are climbing on the monkey bars or swinging. Lots of parents are sprawled in folding chairs, chatting with each other. And plenty of people have already bought Doodles's ice pops. I've got to admit, she is really cleaning up today. But so what? It won't change anything.
It's horribly hot and even my hair is starting to get frizzy. (Doodles's hair looks like a giant tumbleweed.) A bunch of lifeguards stream into the park. Every time Doodles shouts, they look over at us. It's humiliating. I can't help but notice that Cameron and Trish are standing awfully close to each other.
"Ice pops!" Doodles yells.
"Doodles, you're giving me a headache," I say.
"Sang," Raina says. "I'm really sorry. I won't go. I'll stay with you."
"Stay where?" Doodles asks.
"Raina got promoted," I say.
"Congratulations," Mom says.
"Sang, I didn't mean to," Raina says. "Honestly."
"You didn't mean to get promoted? Are you kidding?" Doodles says. "That's the whole point. You're going to be in my class now, aren't you?"
Raina smiles. "Will you teach me the proper strokes?"
"Yeah, it's easy. We can practice together later, and I'll show you---"
"Mom, can we go home now?" I say.
Mom looks up from the notepad in her lap. "Hmm?"
"I only have a few ice pops left," Doodles says. "Ice pops!"
"Mom, please."
"Sang," Mom says in an unusually sharp voice, "I'm trying to concentrate."
I look over her shoulder at her notepad. "You're making a resume?"
"Trying to. But it's hopeless. All I've got is college, my one job right after college, and then a bunch of volunteer positions."
I picture Mom at Acme. She's ninety million years old, and the only phrase she can still utter is, "Paper or plastic?"
"Ice pops!" yells you know who. The lifeguards look up yet again. Raina joins in yelling and now both of them are getting on my last nerve.
"Please!" I snap. "Can you both just---"
"I'll take one." Cameron hands Doodles two quarters.
"Hey," I say in a friendly voice.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
"Much."
"You were sick?" Mom asks. "Why didn't you say something?"
At this very moment, Raina sits beside Mom and starts asking her questions about the volunteer work on her resume.
"Sorry about the promotion thing," he says to me while ripping the paper off his ice pop. "If you can get over your water fear, you'll be great. Maybe you should think about taking another private lesson."
I nod and picture me, Cameron, and private lesson number two: mouth-to-mouth. I give him a large smile. He flashes his smile back at me.
Trish sashays over to us. "Buy me one?" she says to Cameron in a cutesy ootsie voice. "Pwease."
Gag.
Cameron tosses two more quarters into Doodles's moneybox. Doodles hands Trish a grape ice pop. "The last one," she says and snaps her cooler lid shut. "Now we can go."
There's a distant rumble of thunder.
"Uh oh," Mom says. Raina helps her gather our towels, but I stare at Trish and Cameron. I realize she's inviting him to a party. She says, "No one's going to be home this weekend. It's going to be amazing."
Rumor has it Trish lives in this fabulous mansion and her parents are never in town, so her parties feature lots of alcohol and raunchiness. Last year when Trish had her Sweet Sixteen in a club in New York City, everyone invited got picked up in stretch Hummers. I heard about it from Deanna Priestly, whose uncle works for the limo company. Apparently cleaning up the cars afterward was pretty nasty. What with the empty bottles and the throw-up. Classy.
"Everyone will be there," Trish says. She twines her arm through his like a snake winding up a branch. Now I imagine Cameron giving mouth-to-mouth to Trish. "So, Cam, what do you say?"
Say no, I think. Say no!
"Uh, sure. Sounds good," he says and licks his ice pop.
"Oh yeah," Trish says and licks hers in a disgusting way.
He grins.
Okay. That's it. I am going to vomit.
There's another rumble. Closer, louder. Parents and kids scramble to grab their stuff.
Trish eyes me. "Sorry you and Raina can't come to the party, Sang. It's a mature crowd. See you little girls around the kiddy pool."
I grit my teeth.
Suddenly the heavens open. Rain drives down. Doodles shrieks. People hold towels over their heads and race toward the parking lot. Trish and Cameron turn toward the pool office. I'm about to dash to our car, but before I do I notice a foot with dark-red toenails---Raina's foot---stick out in front of Trish. Trish tumbles forward, landing facedown in a juicy fresh puddle of mud. She gets up, looking like the Swamp Thing, and shrieks with fury.
Cameron doubles over laughing. And there is Raina, standing beside Trish, frozen. Like a lamb waiting for the wolf to pounce. Just before Trish clears the mud from her eyes, I push Raina aside. Trish fixes a vicious stare on me and says, "You little..."
I make a beeline for the car.
The next day we're shut in because it pours. Wind whips through trees, tossing branches onto the lawn. Rain lashes against windows. To me it's like a gift from heaven: NO SWIM LESSONS.
But there are two definite downsides. One, I don't get to see Cameron. And two, I have to schlep Poopsie out in this mess. She hates the rain. I dry her with towels when we get inside, but she's still shivering. She looks so forlorn I can't bear to leave her. I try sitting with her for a while, but Mrs. Schnapps' house is so stuffy and formal. It's all lace doilies and stiff high-backed chairs.
I pet Poopsie's head. She's so tiny. So quiet. No trouble at all. And Mom doesn't even come into my room anymore because she can't face Raina's mess. "Poopsie? How about a little road trip?"
I clip on her leash and her tail wags. I pick her up and race through the rain to my front porch, but we get soaked. "Okay," I whisper. "We have to be quiet."
I open the front door and slowly step inside. I can hear Raina and Doodles in the family room. "Hey, Sang," Doodles calls. "Come here."
"GRRRRR," Poopsie growls.
"Rrrright away," I say. "Just let me change first." I dash with Poopsie up to my room and shut my door. "Goofy dog. Is that your idea of quiet?" I set her down and unclip her leash. She gets busy sniffing my laundry basket, Raina's suitcase, and the trash basket near my desk. By the time I take off my wet things and put on a dry T-shirt and shorts, Poopsie has climbed onto my pillow, turned around three times, and curled into a sleepy little ball. I get a whiff of wet doggy smell.
"You okay there?"
Poopsie's eyes look in my direction, but otherwise she doesn't move.
"Okay, you sleep. And stay quiet. I'll be back in a sec." I shut the bedroom door on my way out.
In the family room I find Raina telling Doodles this weather reminds her of the monsoon, which will be starting in India any day now.
"At first everyone can't wait for it, because it is so unbelievably hot and only the rains can cool things off," she says. "When the monsoon begins, people are so glad that they rush into the streets and dance in the rain. It is really wonderful, I tell you."
Doodles likes the sound of this and coaxes Raina to go out with her into the downpour.
"Come with us, Sang," Raina says. I shake my head.
I stand at the window, cross my arms and watch them do the twist in the driveway. Their hair is plastered to their heads and their clothes sag and cling.
"Looks fun," Dad says. He's peering over my shoulder at them, with his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and a textbook in his hand. "Why aren't you out there too?"
"They're doing just fine without me."
"Are things going okay with you and Raina?"
I shrug. "Sure. Why not? I mean, look at her. She's wonderful."
He grins. "She is."
"Unlike me," I whisper, walking away.
"Stop," Dad says, removing his glasses. I stop and turn like I'm some robot. "Sangeet, what aren't you telling me?"
"More like what aren't you telling me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dad, I'm almost seventeen. If there's something going on---"
"You know, that does look like fun out there."
"Dad, come on. I wish you would just tell me---"
"Look!" he points at Raina and Doodles, who are now by the curb stomping in the river of water rushing by. Dad sets his glasses and book on the coffee table. "Okay, Sang, you're right. You are almost seventeen. And I am almost a senior citizen. You realize I'm already getting those idiotic mailings from AARP like I'm ready to pack it in?"
I brace myself. I'll have to look surprised about Taoji, of course.
"Only I'm not ready to pack it in, princess." He tilts his head at me. "How 'bout it? You and me. Out in the rain just like old times."
When I was little, he and I would put on our rain boots and stomp in puddles all the way to Fonthill. Then we'd each toss a large leaf into the stream beside the castle and cheer our little "boats" on. He would always tell me my boat won, and then he'd grab me under the arms and swing me round and round while my boots flew off and I squealed with joy. "Dad, I---"
"Come on," he says. He grabs my wrist and pulls me out the door into the downpour.
Dad kicks off his flip-flops and runs to the curb. Doodles whoops and stomps. Raina applauds. I stand frozen on the front walk, my fists clenched. Heavy rain streams over me. Maybe I should tell him I know about Taoji. Maybe I should tell him talking about it wouldn't hurt anything. But how can I say any of this when Dad is actually skipping through puddles?
Now his arms are in the air and his hands flap like he's some Bollywood star in a tacky dance scene. He starts wiggling his hips like he's a belly dancer.
Together the three of them raise their arms and do some more Bollywood moves, laughing and looking absolutely ridiculous together. I should be laughing. I should be dancing with them.
I go back into the house.
\*\*\*\*\*
Raina says that after a few weeks everyone gets sick of the monsoon. Even though it cools things off at first, soon the heat and humidity return. Along with dreariness and flooding.
The rain has been falling here for three solid days and everyone is definitely sick of it.
I've done a ton of reading. I've finished Sense and Sensibility, which was a pretty frustrating novel---what with all the secrets the characters kept from each other. A little too close to home, if you ask me. I've re-read two Sarah Dessen novels, devoured Confessions of a Shopaholic, and I've started The Time Traveler's Wife.
I've also spent time online. I chatted with Megan and asked if she wanted to hang out, but she was too upset about David. She said he's been avoiding her for days.
By day, I sneak Poopsie into my room for little visits. She likes to snuggle with her furry chin on my stomach while I lie on my bed. Luckily Raina's okay about the dog. She didn't even complain when Poopsie chewed up one of her flip-flops. I don't tell Doodles about Poopsie, though, because Doodles would definitely blow the secret. In the evening, I smuggle Poopsie back home, tucking her under my T-shirt and running out the door when no one is looking.
At night I lay in bed listening to the plink of raindrops on the roof and the glug of water coursing through the gutters. And I find myself fantasizing about Cameron. I know it's stupid to even think of him. He's in college for starters. He's probably at this very minute wrapped around Trish at one of her parties. And my life is complicated enough. But so what?
Dalton called a few times and offered to come over. I told him everyone is here and it would be too awkward. He asked me out to dinner and I made another excuse: the roads are really bad. They are a little flooded. After that he didn't call again.
On Saturday, Raina and Dad watch a Bollywood movie together. I watch with them for a while, laughing at the jerky-motioned dance routines.
"Remember how you used to dance for me?" Dad says.
"Don't remind me," I say.
"Why? It was cute. Raina, Sang used to dress in this little salwar kameez we'd bought for her in India and copy all the jazzy dance moves during the film. She used to be such a little darling."
Used to be. Past tense.
I continue to sit with them watching, but nothing's in English. After a while I lose interest and go to my room to read some more.
When the movie is done, Raina comes in and looks bored stiff. To be nice, I tell her she can use my computer any time she wants. But once she gets on, she never gets off.
So I shut Poopsie in my room with Raina, and ask Hari if I can use his laptop. He says maybe later.
I resort to watching the He's Just Not that into You DVD on our one and only TV. Dad's settled with his book on the family room couch. I plop down on the chair across from him. I've barely started the movie when he says, "Shut that thing off. I'm reading here."
"Can't you just read somewhere else?" This, as it turns out, is exactly the wrong thing to say.
"Somewhere else? SOMEWHERE ELSE?" he screeches. "This is my house. You are the child. Don't you forget that."
"How can I?" I mutter, shutting off the movie. I drag myself back upstairs and have my hand on my doorknob when Poopsie goes, "Ruff!"
Mom, who is sitting on her bed reading a magazine, looks up. "Sang? What was that?"
Er. "Rough," I say. "That's what my life is." It's true. I carefully open my door and quickly shut it behind me. Poopsie is standing on my pillow wagging her tail.
The phone rings. I jump to pick it up, ready to talk with anybody. "Hello," I say into the phone. "Jumnal dictatorship. Lowly peon speaking."
"Hello? Hello? Who is this?"
It's a woman with an Indian accent. This could be either one of my taijis or perhaps an older cousin. "This is Sangeet."
"Ha. Sangeet. You sound so grown up, dear girl. How are you?"
Who are you? I can't think of a polite way to ask. "I'm fine. And how are you doing?"
"Adjusting. Settling in, darling. The people here have been so kind. So helpful. Your Taoji is being well cared for." It's Taiji Parveen. I can't even imagine what she must be feeling right now with her husband so sick. Taoji so sick. My Taoji.
Expect Great Things!
I touch the pendant hanging from my neck. My heart speeds up.
"Sangeet? Are you still there?"
There's a trembling in my knees.
Taiji says, "Hello? Hello, anybody?"
I hand the phone to Raina and go back downstairs. Hari's in the kitchen working his way through a stack of chocolate chip cookies. Mom's now in the living room vacuuming around Doodles, who is lying on the rug staring at the ceiling. Dad's studying in the family room with his fingers in his ears.
I go out the front door and stand under the overhang, barely protected from the downpour. Unable to escape.
\*\*\*\*\*
When Mom offered to take us to the library, Doodles and I jumped at the chance. Raina, however, was unwilling to leave the computer. When I glanced at the computer screen, she minimized the application, like what she was doing was some huge secret. Whatever. I ask her if she'll keep an eye on Poopsie for me so I won't have to sneak her back out before we go. Still staring at the screen, she nods.
Our car splashes through deep puddles and our wipers barely keep the windshield clear. We find a parking spot on the street between the Michener Art Museum and the Mercer Museum, which is Doylestown's other castle.
The library is packed. Every little kid in Doylestown is flooding the children's section, messing up the shelves and staging puppet shows with dolls and stuffed animals. "Bethany!" Doodles shouts, seeing her best friend by the kid magazines.
"Inside voice," Mom warns. Doodles nods and gallops off like a wild pony.
At this moment my ex-best friend Gina Baldarasi walks by, her arms clutching a stack of books, her blond hair spiky. There's a flicker of recognition in her eyes. Probably in mine, too. She pretty much just stopped being my friend two years ago. I've heard she's really into writing now, but other than that, I don't know much about her. So I keep up my pace and we pass each other, just two strangers who once were very close.
Mom heads for the newspaper rack to look at help wanted ads. And I, blissfully, am finally on my own. I wander through the aisles, picking out an armful of books. Some more Shopaholic novels and a few romantic-sounding titles, balanced with the classics Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Moll Flanders. Who knows? If the rain keeps up, maybe I can read the entire library. I turn an aisle and find myself face to face with Cameron. He's wearing jeans and a white University of Maryland T-shirt---looking as hot as ever. His brow is furrowed as if the weight of the world is resting on his broad shoulders.
"Oh," I say. I definitely feel sparks. I'm suddenly aware of my wrinkled red T-shirt and grungy gray shorts. "I didn't expect to see you here. I mean, you're not at the pool."
"It's kind of raining," he says and grins.
"Right." I definitely feel foolish. "Well, see ya."
"Wait. Would you happen to know where this section is?" He shows me a slip of paper with a book's call number written on it.
"I think that's in the back section by the window. It's easy to miss. I'll show you."
"Thanks." Cameron takes the books from my arms and looks at the titles. "Tess of the D'Urbervilles? Let me guess. You're an honors English student."
"Did you take that too?"
"Not exactly."
The books in his own pile include Nutrition and the Athlete and The Chemistry of Food. "Looks like you're doing some light reading too," I say.
"Keeping up with my courses."
"Impressive," I say.
His expression seems to darken. He follows me to the opposite corner of the library and pulls a book called So What the Heck Do You Want to Do? off the shelf. "My major is still pretty much undecided," he explains. "I just can't figure out what I should do with my life."
"Wow. Me either." I smile.
"You have the prettiest smile," he says. "Especially with that dimple."
I bite my lip, unsure of what to say next. But I'm surprised to see him rubbing his neck and looking awkward.
After a moment, he says, "I was thinking of doing something with sports. Like being a trainer or something. But now..." He shrugs. "Guess I've got a lot of things to figure out. It sucks not knowing."
"Tell me about it. Everybody else is always talking about what they're going to do. I wish I knew. It makes me feel so, so..."
"Lost," he says.
"Yeah. Exactly." We stare at each other for a long moment.
He says, "I wish I didn't..."
"What?"
"Never mind." He gives me a slow grin.
I feel something deeper than sparks.
"Sang, there you are," Mom says, peering into the aisle. "We're going to get going soon." She walks away.
"Well, thanks for the help," Cameron says, handing me back my stack of books.
"Sure. Bye." I watch him go down the aisle and hug my books tight. I head in the opposite direction toward the DVDs, suddenly eager for a romantic movie.
While I'm scanning a DVD rack, I hear a screechy giggle. I look up and see something I never thought I would: Liselle, the brunette Trish clone, in the library. She's leaning over the checkout table and her jeans are exposing her coin slot. A little boy is staring. His mother suddenly puts her hand over his eyes and hurries him away.
I shake my head and turn back to the DVDs, trying to keep my mind off the likes of Liselle, or Trish, or Cameron plus Trish. Twirling the DVD rack, I find the Sense and Sensibility movie. I'm pulling it from the rack, when I hear Liselle say, "There you are, sweetie!" in a definite "outside voice."
"Shh," the librarian behind the checkout desk hisses.
I flip the DVD case over and read its write-up. When I glance up, there is Liselle with---
"David?"
Liselle and David turn toward my voice, but I duck behind the DVD stand. I've got to be wrong. He can't be with Liselle, right?
I peer around the edge of the stand. Liselle takes David's arm and leads him out the library door.
"I know something is going on with David, but what?" Megan says to me.
Oh God.
"You want the usual?" I ask Megan, reaching into the refrigerator by the leather-padded bar.
"Fine." She sits on a bar stool, propping her face in her hand.
We're at Anna's house in her massive finished basement for a night of movies and popcorn and M&M's. It's still raining outside, though it's slowing down. Just before Raina and I left for Anna's, Mom was hovering in the living room. There was no way to smuggle Poopsie back to her own home, so I finally had to leave her in my room with the door shut. As soon as I get back, I'll bring her home. She should be okay as long as she doesn't growl. Or bark. Or scratch at the door. And as long as Mom doesn't go into my room.
Anna, Jackie, Monique, and Raina are on the far side of the room, sprawled on the sectional sofa in front of the big-screen TV. They're watching Easy A and talking about Anna's upcoming birthday party. Raina is fitting in really well. A little too polite, but smiling and having fun. Anna even invited Raina to come to the party too, which was really nice. So now Raina and I can go dress shopping together. Of course I don't exactly have money for a dress. Why can't we be loaded like Anna? I think of what my own birthday will be like. A few bags of chips, some store brand soda, and a rented DVD, if I'm lucky.
I hand Megan her can of root beer and grab one for myself. Some of the guys are supposed to stop by later. I really hope Dalton isn't coming. I'll have to explain to him why the roads were too flooded for me to go out to dinner with him, but not too flooded to go to Anna's.
Megan sets the can aside. "I wasn't meant to be happy. That's it: bad karma or something, right? David has finally caught on that I'm nothing special."
She turns her harp seal eyes on me and waits. Here's where I'm supposed to say how crazy he is about her, but I can't say that now, can I? I should tell her what I saw. I'm her friend. "Megan, it's not you."
Her eyes tear up. "It is me. I must have done something wrong. Maybe it was that Brady Bunch T-shirt and lunchbox I bought him last month on eBay. It was too expensive. It probably scared him away. I do that, you know. Scare guys. I just can't help it."
"You didn't do anything wrong. David is..." This is going to break her heart. I can't do it.
"What?"
"What what?" I say and blink stupidly.
Megan sighs. "How could I have been so wrong about him? I couldn't have been, could I? I mean, we've been together for so long. That means something, right?"
I gulp my soda.
"Maybe he's upset that I'm working so much. Maybe he's just being passive-aggressive. He doesn't think I care, so he's pushing me away. That could be it, right?"
"That's one possibility," I say diplomatically. Or he's cheating on you with one of the world's biggest sluts! The words are practically bursting from my mouth. I chug more soda.
"Sang, I'm going to say it. I'm not putting it off anymore. I am telling David that I am in love with him."
I try to say no! But it comes out as a massive belch.
Megan cracks up. Jackie looks over the back of the sofa at us and yells, "Good one!"
Megan grabs her can and hops off the stool. "Wait," I say, pulling on her arm. Root beer fizzes out of her can onto the perfect cream-colored carpet.
"Uh oh," she says.
"Quick, before anyone sees." I grab some napkins from the bar, and we both kneel in front of the spot and start blotting. "Megan, don't you think you should wait for the right moment to tell David? Maybe you should give it more time."
Megan sits back on her heels. "What do you mean?"
"Well," I say, concentrating on the stain, "it's just that you don't want to say it too soon. I mean, how do you really know that David is the one?"
"Sang, I just know. I can't explain it."
"What if you're wrong? Shouldn't you be sure that he really deserves you first?"
Megan's quiet for so long that I finally have to look up at her.
"Sang, if you've got something to say, just say it."
"Megan, David is not the great guy you think he is."
Megan stares.
There's tense silence between us. Then the perfect distraction. Jonathan Crispin and his friend Bobby Figero come thundering down the steps. No sign of Dalton. The guys nudge the girls on the couch to move over, and groan over the movie selection.
"What were they expecting? Iron Man?" I say to Megan. "Don't you hate action flicks? They're all the same. Big trucks. Big guns. Big mouths."
"Sang," Megan says.
"Don't tell me you like that stuff?" I say. I'm frantically blotting the stain, but the spot just looks larger. "Sure, the guys are usually all muscle and end up with their shirts ripped, but---"
"You said David wasn't the great guy I thought he was. Why?"
How can I say this and crush my friend? And how can I not say this? "Look, I saw David. He was with another girl."
She looks shocked, then blinks a few times. "You never liked him, did you?" she snaps.
"Well, now you can see why, can't you? You deserve so much better."
"I can't believe you're doing this to me."
"Me?"
"So David's a little different. So he doesn't wear the right clothes or have the right haircut. But why do you have to make up these lies to split us apart?"
"Megan, come on. You can't believe that."
"You never liked him, and now you create this whole story about a girl just so I'll break up with him."
"I'm trying to protect you."
She shakes her head. "No you're not. You're protecting yourself because you don't want to be seen with David. No one is ever good enough in your book."
"That's not true."
"You are so judgmental. About David. About me. And what about Dalton? You keep complaining you don't like him."
"That's different."
"No it isn't. You keep holding him up to some high and mighty standard you have in your mind, but Dalton never measures up. Nobody does." Tears spill onto her cheeks. "You know what? Maybe I'm just not good enough to be your friend." She throws down the sodden napkins and storms up the stairs past Dalton, who stands there frozen.
"Dalton," I say, my throat suddenly tight. "Just get here?"
"Is it true?" he asks.
I stand. "Is what true?"
"If you didn't want to go out with me, why didn't you say so?" His voice is soft and sad.
He waits. But I can't seem to say anything.
So he turns and leaves.
\*\*\*\*\*
We get home and find Doodles in her pajamas on the stairs off the living room, hugging her knees and looking worried. Dad's on the couch, talking in Punjabi on the phone. I can't understand most of his words, but I can tell he's upset. Mom sets her purse on the table and stands beside him. Raina bites her lip and listens.
"Nay," he says. Punjabi for no. "Nay, ten thousand dollars wapis nayhee. Ha, fever cuttum. Nay, you listen!"
I nudge Raina. She shakes her head.
I turn to Doodles, who is shivering. "Come on, you goofball." I climb up to her and pull her to her feet. "You're supposed to be asleep." I pick her up and practically fall back down the steps. When did she get so heavy?
"But what's happening?" she asks in a sniffly voice.
"How should I know? I don't speak that wacky language." I smile for her.
She rests her head on my shoulder and I manage to make it up the stairs to her room. I set her on her bed and cover her with her sheet. "Good night." I'm anxious to disappear into my own room under my own sheet.
"Stay, Sissy," she says. She hasn't called me that in a long time. When she was really little, that's all she used to call me. So I sit on her bed. We can still hear Dad on the phone. I strain my ears but only catch a few words I recognize. "Bus" means stop. "Ha-ji" means yes, honored one. "Acha" is like I see, or okay. Most of all he's saying "nay," and I also hear "ten thousand dollars" a few times.
"Why is Daddy so upset?" she asks.
"Is he?" I stand to close the door and then sit again. "When did you get fluent in Punjabi?"
She brushes some of her tangled hair from her face. "I'm scared."
I squeeze her hand. "I'm sure it's nothing." I tell Doodles that I remember what Dad's talking about. He's just on the phone arguing over cricket scores with an old Indian friend. It's something they do in a joking way with each other.
"You swear?" Doodles looks me in the eye.
"Swear," I say. "Doodles, I wouldn't lie to you." I just want to comfort her. That doesn't make it lying, does it?
I kiss her warm head and go into my room only to find Raina already on the computer. Downstairs is quiet. I step over a pile of Raina's clothes. It's amazing how someone so neat in the rest of the house can still be such a slob. I lie on my bed and my mind whirls back to Megan yelling at me. To Dalton leaving me. To Dad on the phone. What is going on? I need a translator to explain my life to me.
"Raina?" I sit up and see the computer screen filled with photos of her and a guy with a mop of black hair and thin black glasses.
She minimizes the photos. "Ha?"
"Wait. Who was the guy in the pictures?"
Raina looks down at the keyboard. "Nobody," she says, her voice thick. "Nobody at all." She sneaks a hand up to wipe her eyes. "You wanted something?"
Secrets. Lies and secrets. "Never mind."
I go into the hall. Hari's bedroom is dark and quiet. He's definitely out.
I flick on his desk lamp. His laptop is already on. So I do a search for "mylofybrosis." It comes back with the same grim entries I saw before.
"What are you doing?" Hari asks.
I jump. "God. Don't sneak up like that. You said I could borrow your computer, remember?"
"That was a while ago. Why can't you use your own?"
"Raina's kind of hijacked it."
He leans over me and reads the screen. "Mylofybrosis?"
"Dad was on the phone with somebody. Yelling about fevers and ten thousand dollars. I don't know. Something's going on. If this were a normal family, I could just ask him."
"Right." He rolls his eyes.
"Anyway, I thought I'd try to find out something more, but look. Even the Internet's got nothing to tell."
"That's because you spelled it wrong. See?" Hari points to the top of the screen, where the search engine asks, "Did you mean: Myelofibrosis?"
"I'm such an idiot." I immediately click on the link. More than three hundred thousand entries appear.
"I read through a bunch of that---depressing as hell." Hari pulls off his gray T-shirt and tosses it into his laundry basket. "Everything you'll read is a complete nightmare. Taoji should probably be dead already."
"Shut up."
"You want to know, don't you?" He opens his top drawer and pulls out a blue T-shirt. "Fact is, the facts completely suck." He grabs his wallet. "Later."
"Where you going?"
"Hanging out with some friends."
"Michelle?"
Hari slides his wallet into his back pocket and leaves, calling over his shoulder, "Shut down the computer when you're done."
I stare at the entries for myelofibrosis for a while before I click on some. I find lots of medical terms. Acute this. Critical that. The disease is not really a cancer. Not leukemia. The bone marrow becomes tear-shaped as it is replaced by fibrous scar tissue. They don't know what causes it. There's really no cure, unless you get a BMT. I skip the BMT survival rates. I really don't want to know.
Most entries are scientific and technical. But some are all too personal. My mother just was diagnosed... We lost Bob one year after treatment... Thank you so much for your support. I've been too weak to write... Does anybody else have this? I've never heard of it... I can't stop crying. I have young children. What will they do without me?
I close the computer. Enough truth for one night.
Chandeliers glitter overhead. Intricate tapestries are underfoot. I sit in a wingchair and run my hand over the silky red fabric of my dress. All the girls are in flouncy gowns, and all the guys are in boots, breeches, and long coats.
This is the most elegant party ever.
Across the room Raina stands in a pale yellow gown, waving a lacy fan and chatting politely with Dalton. He listens carefully, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks really handsome. It's the boots.
I struggle to my feet, the gown weighing more than I could ever imagine. I go to them. "Dalton," I say, "are you angry at me?"
He smiles. "Lovely weather," he says. "Don't you agree?"
"Dalton, talk to me. For real. Please."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he says, bowing.
Make my acquaintance?
Suddenly everyone in the room looks toward a marble staircase where Megan has appeared, looking princessy in a peach gown. Her hand rests on the arm of David Jovanovich, who wears breeches, knee-high boots and a Star Trek T-shirt. They descend the stairs.
I push my way through the crowd until I reach her. "Megan, what's going on? You can't still be with this jerk."
"Miss Jumnal," Megan says in a cool voice, "I wish to introduce my esteemed husband."
"Your husband? What are you talking about?"
"Charmed," David says to me.
"You scum!" I move to slap him but find all my hand will do is wave hello.
"Tea is served," says a waiter wearing a powdered wig.
"Delightful," says Megan, leading David away.
In walks my dad. "Dad, thank God you're here! Everyone's gone crazy."
"My word, have they?" He sounds polite and aristocratic, even though he's wearing his usual jeans and plaid shirt.
"Please take me home."
"My heavens," he says. "We haven't even had tea. Come along."
Everyone is holding saucers and sipping from cups, their pinkies in the air. Dad leads me to a table decked out with white linens, candles, lovely china cups, and a silver tea set. He picks up a cup. "Sugar?"
I nod. He turns to the table for a sugar cube. But the table is actually a giant bed. The tablecloth is a white blanket. It's covering someone.
"One lump or two?" Dad asks.
"Taoji?" I say.
"Two lumps," Dad says. "Very good."
Taoji moans and rolls onto his side, sending several teacups clattering to the floor.
"Cream?" Dad says to me.
"Dad, don't you see him?"
"No cream," Dad says. "Very good."
"But Dad. It's Taoji. Look!"
Taoji holds up a trembling hand. His face looks sweaty and feverish. "Help me," he gasps. "Please."
I try to reach out to him, but Dad thrusts a teacup into my hand. "Spectacular weather," Dad says. "Don't you agree, my little princess?"
"Stop this." I throw the cup. It shatters on the floor. "I'm not your little anything. Don't you see him? Doesn't anybody see him?"
Everyone turns their backs on me.
"Save me, scholar girl," Taoji pleads. "Save me."
"I can't. Don't you get that?" I shout, "Help us. Somebody please."
"Sangeet," Taoji calls. "Sang."
"Sang? Wake up." Raina shakes my arm until my eyes flutter open.
\*\*\*\*\*
On this bright Monday morning, Dad's holding up his tea saucer in one hand and sipping tea from a cup with his other while he studies the paper.
Mom's standing by the table gulping coffee from a mug while lining up the sugar bowl and the salt and pepper shakers in a perfect line.
"You're dressed nice," Dad says to her. "Going somewhere?"
"Me?" She splutters her coffee and wipes a drop off her floral-print sundress. "No, nowhere." Actually, she's got a job interview at the community college, so Hari's taking us to swimming. "Sang," she says in a high-pitched voice, "shouldn't you be getting ready for lessons?"
"Nope. Plenty of time. You sure do look nice, Mom." I give her a devilish grin.
She dumps the rest of her coffee into the sink, rinses her mug, and leaves the room.
I stare at Dad. He stares at the paper. I stare some more.
"Do you want something?" he says at last.
"Who were you talking to last night?"
"It doesn't matter." He stands and tucks the paper under his arm.
"But why were you so upset?"
"What are you talking about? I wasn't upset. Go get ready for your swimming now."
"Something is wrong. And I know I probably don't want to hear any of it, but I think not hearing it is worse. So Dad, just tell me."
He gives me a fierce stare. "Don't you have something important to do?"
I stare back. Then it hits me: Poopsie. With all this Megan and Taoji drama, I completely forgot to let her out. I hope she didn't leave another mess in Mrs. Schnapps' foyer. I head toward the door.
Oh crap. Last night I never brought her back to her home. But I haven't seen her since before we went to Anna's. We had my door open tons.
I race up to my room. Raina is sitting on her bed, still in her pjs. I say, "Please tell me she's with you."
"Who?"
"Poopsie. I never brought her home." I glance at the bowl of water I'd left out for her yesterday. It's half empty.
We both search my room. Raina digs through the clothing piles, while I look under the beds and in the closet. No Poopsie.
"Sang!" Mom shouts.
Crap crap crap. I go to her room.
She holds up one of her leather sandals by a chewed-up strap. "I told you specifically not to bring that dog into this house. Where is she?"
Good question.
Scritch. Scritch-scritch. Scritch. Mom drops the sandal and follows the noise to Doodles's door.
Scritch. Scritch-scritch.
"Mom---"
She opens the door. Doodles is sitting on her rug next to her little China tea set, and beside her is Poopsie dressed in American Girl doll clothes. It's like she's a canine Molly doll, complete with flower-printed dress and black Mary Jane shoes on her front paws.
Poopsie studies us through the tiny pair of wire eyeglasses perched on her nose.
I bite my lip. So does Mom. "Well," she says turning away from me, "take care of this," and she quickly walks away.
"You poor dog," I say, picking her up.
"What's the big deal? We were just playing," Doodles says.
I should give Doodles a stern lecture about animal rights.
But those glasses. Those dressy little shoes.
Poopsie cocks her head to one side.
I crack a smile. And I completely lose it.
\*\*\*\*\*
In the afternoon, I'm with Cameron for private lesson number two. "Any luck with that career book?" I ask. "Find your purpose in life yet?"
"Nope," he says and seems uncomfortable. "Let's get back to our purpose. Kicking. Now give me your hands."
I place my small hands into his huge ones. "You're really good with kids. Maybe you could become a teacher. The money isn't great, though."
"I know. My mom's a single parent, and she's a teacher." His brow furrows.
"My dad too," I say. "Not the single parent part, but the teacher part."
"Cool. So, does he come home from work silent because he's tired of talking all day? My mom does that, so my house is pretty quiet."
"My house is never quiet. With my parents, me, my brother and my sister, and now Raina, it's all noise and confusion most of the time."
"Sounds pretty great," Cameron says with a smile.
"I guess sometimes it can be nice to have all these people around. But I wouldn't mind some peace now and then."
"I'd settle for some peace of mind." He swallows and looks down at the water.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah. No worries," he says, but seems almost sad.
I realize I care about this guy. And that I like him. Really.
Now he's staring at me. Maybe he's feeling the same way about me. "Well, if it ever gets too quiet at your house," I say in almost a whisper, "you could always talk with me."
"I'd like that," he whispers back, squeezing my hands. He seems about to say more, but smiles instead.
"Right," I say, blushing a little. "So---about kicking."
"Yeah. Right," he says like he's snapped out of a spell. "Actually, why don't we work on floating some more first?" I turn around. His muscular arms support me as I lie back. I practically swoon. "Just spread your arms wide," he says. "Point your toes. Arch your back."
I try to do as he says, even when his hands pull away.
"You're doing it, Sang!"
Suddenly I'm all too aware of the water beneath me. Three feet at least. "I can't," I say and collapse.
Cameron swoops in and grabs me before I go under. And holds me. "What am I gonna do with you?" he says, grinning.
Anything you want, I think. I wish I could rest my head on his shoulder. I wish I were brave enough to ask him to Anna's party. My stomach stirs. Is my gut trying to tell me something?
"Hey, Cameron," Trish shouts. She's standing, hands on hips, at the side of the pool. "Your guard shift's starting."
"Thanks," he says. "Guess that's it for today, Sang. Try to practice on your own."
He sets me on my feet and I sway a little.
Cameron says, "Want to schedule the next private lesson?"
"Oh." Reality check. I did pay for this hour. "I'll have to look at my calendar first." More like, I'll have to beg even more money from the First National Bank of Doodles.
He pulls himself out of the pool, the water beading down his back, and goes to the lifeguard station by the deep end.
While I'm watching him, I feel Trish watching me. She's been glaring in my direction all day. She definitely hasn't forgotten about being tripped and getting a mud facial.
"Enough of this helpless garbage," she says to me. "I told you he was mine. He'd never go for someone like you."
"Whatever, Trish."
"He's not into your little doe-eyed innocent act, so don't go thinking he is. Pretending you can't swim just so Cameron will pay attention to you. It's pathetic."
"I'm not pretending," I say. I pull myself out of the pool, thinking about the connection I always feel when he and I talk. "This is real."
She smirks.
I turn toward Cameron, who is now mounted on his guard seat, whistle around his neck, buoy on his lap. He's actually looking at me. And just like that, I blow him a kiss. He laughs and winks. I can't believe it. I'm blushing as much from my own nerve as from his wink. And this time I'm the one smirking at Trish.
Trish purses her lips and crosses her arms. "You'd better watch your step, Tubby Butt."
"Later," I say, for once sounding confident. I walk along the edge of the deep end toward the lounge chairs where Raina and Doodles are playing cards. I wonder if Cameron is watching me walk by in my green bikini. I think about his wink. I think about his strong arms. Maybe he's feeling the connection too.
"Much later, loser," Trish whispers, suddenly close to me. She hits me with her hip, knocking me over.
My arms flail. I fall, screaming, as the aqua blue water comes closer. I crash in. Bubbles foam all around me. I sink down down down.
It's over. I once again stare up at the lens of day above me, expecting to see that butterfly---that angel of death fluttering away. And I do see something, only it's coming closer. I close my eyes.
Water whooshes around me and a strong arm grabs me.
I open my eyes. I'm soaring upward. I break through the lens, gasping and coughing.
"Everybody get back," Cameron yells. He hands me up to Trish, who lays me on my back.
Cameron jumps out and kneels beside me. "Sang? Say something."
"Trish pushed me," I say, my voice hoarse. My arms and legs tremble.
"Please. She's delirious," Trish says.
Cameron leans closer. "Are you okay?"
"You saved me."
"Yeah," he says, raising his eyebrows. "I guess I did."
I give him a thank you kiss. A mere peck. But he gets involved. At first his lips are cold and wet, but they quickly warm up. Now my heart is trembling too.
After a long moment, he pulls back. Some of the kids around us whistle and clap. One says, "Aw, gross."
Cameron blinks at me and says, "Why don't we continue this later?"
"So then she kissed him," Doodles says. "It was disgusting."
"It was not," I say. "I mean, I did not."
Raina covers her mouth to hide a laugh. It's evening, and we're all sitting around the dinner table.
"Who is this guy?" Dad says, stabbing a sausage with his fork. "I want to personally thank him, then break his legs."
"And I'll help," Hari says, laughing.
"Dad, it was nothing," I say. Even though it was everything. Even though it was amazing. "Pass the ketchup." Change the subject.
"It's not every day somebody saves my daughter's life," Mom says. "I want to give him a kiss myself."
"Are you going to use your tongue too?" Doodles asks.
I whack her. Mom closes her eyes as if to erase that sentence from her mind.
"So that's what you call nothing?" Dad's waving the sausage around like a weapon. "I have a good mind to send you to an all-girls school in India. That would fix you."
This is something my dad likes to threaten me with every now and then. I roll my eyes.
"You don't think I'm serious? Just test me, young lady. You'll see."
"Calm down, Akash," Mom says. "The important thing is that Sang's okay."
"You're right." Dad lays down his sausage at last. "Still, you kids are too free with your lips. It's trouble. Raina wouldn't do such a thing."
Raina gives a small smile.
"You girls need to keep yourselves pure," Dad says and sips his lemonade. "In India, if a young girl is dating, it's bad news. When it comes time for marriage, where's that young man? Married to another, truthfully. No decent family would allow their son to marry such a girl."
Mom and I share a look. I start cutting my sausage into tiny pieces.
"Isn't it like that still, Raina? Or have things changed so much?"
"No, Uncle-ji," Raina says in a small voice. "Not much has changed." She sets down her fork. "May I be excused?"
"But you haven't finished your burger," Mom says. Raina gives her a pained look and Mom nods her head. Raina brings her plate to the counter and leaves the room.
"So who is this savior?" Hari asks, dragging a French fry through the mound of ketchup on his plate.
"His name's Cameron," I say.
"You don't mean Cameron Cerulli?"
I nod. Hari frowns.
"Why?" Dad says. "Do you know him?"
"He's nice," I say. "Right, Hari?" I stare daggers at my brother, who reluctantly nods.
"Nice." Dad pushes his plate away. "Sangeet, you know how I feel about all this boy garbage. You'd better bring this young man around so I can meet him."
"Scare the crap out of him is more like it," Hari says. He stuffs a handful of fries into his mouth.
"Hari, language," Mom says. He mumbles a full-mouth apology.
The phone rings. Mom rises to answer it while I quickly change the subject to the Fourth of July, which is in just two short days. "We have to do it up right," I say. "For Raina. Show her some American stuff."
"Let's take her to the Fourth of July picnic at Fonthill," Doodles says, bouncing in her seat with excitement. Every year the castle hosts a huge party on its lawn with traditional music, re-enactors, sack races, picnicking, things like that.
"And after that we should barbecue," Hari says, licking his fingers. "Make ribs, and corn on the cob and apple pie."
"Forget that," Doodles says. "I just want s'mores."
We all start debating how to make perfect s'mores, and whether they taste better with the marshmallows toasted or completely burnt, when Mom returns to the table rosy-cheeked. "I got it," she says.
"Marshmallows?" Doodles asks.
"The job," Mom says.
"Already?" I say. "You just interviewed."
"I know," she says. "They must be desperate."
"You're just too good to pass up," Hari says. "Congratulations, Mom."
"We're rich!" Doodles says.
"Not exactly," Mom says.
"Wait," Dad says. "What job?"
Dad looks confused as Mom tells him about her new job at the community college. "It's in the Admissions Office, and there's some computer work and typing. The pay's not great, but it's better than nothing. And I even get some pension benefits. I start next week."
Dad wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it by his plate. "Lena, I told you we didn't have to worry."
"I'm not worried. I just thought that with Doodles getting older, it was time for me to get back into the workforce. Be useful."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"So we don't have marshmallows?" Doodles asks.
"Shh." I nudge her.
Mom and Dad stare at each other across the table.
"I don't think we should talk about this right now," Dad says at last.
"Of course not," Mom says. More staring.
"Doodles," Hari says, "why don't you and I drive to Acme, so we can stock up on marshmallows?"
Doodles jumps from her seat. "Don't forget chocolate and graham crackers."
"Right." He grabs her hand and leads her away.
I stand and start clearing plates. "Leave those," Dad says.
As soon as I leave, they go at it. Not yelling and screaming and throwing things, like normal people do. Instead their arguments are phrases filled with disappointment and guilt.
I reach the stairs and sit. It's the perfect place to listen in. I know it's not the most decent thing to do, but I'm not perfect like Raina, now am I?
"We've got the medical bills all covered, so why are you doing this?" Dad says.
"Because we don't have them covered. There's more and more added on."
"Bobby-ji said it shouldn't be much longer."
"But he still has that fever, doesn't he? More time in the hospital means more money. Anyway, that's not the point. I'm so thankful we can help him. I wouldn't begrudge him a cent."
"I'm not saying that you would. I'm just saying that nothing needs to change. We're managing fine."
"Now. But in twenty years, everything won't be fine. Akash, you have to face this."
"Lena, you know I'm fine with you working, if that's something you really want to do. But the children are used to you being here for them. Do we really need any more changes in our lives right now?"
"I just want to help. I feel so helpless."
"Me too."
Me three, I think.
There's a long silence. I hear a chair scrape on the floor. Dad is striding toward me. I cringe and shrink to invisible as he passes me on the stairs and shuts his bedroom door.
That was awkward.
The phone rings. Anxious to get out of sight, I hurry to my room to get it. I expect to find Raina at my computer, but instead she's lying on her bed, her wrist over her eyes. I snatch the cordless. "Hello?"
"What did you say to Megan? What?" I've never heard David Jovanovich on the phone before. He sounds squeaky and nasal. "She won't speak with me. I am beside myself."
"Yeah, well apparently that's not the only person you've been beside."
"I'm perplexed."
"You're perverted."
Raina lowers her wrist and sits up.
"Miss Jumnal, that is uncalled for. How dare you speak to me like this!"
"Stop talking like you're sixty years old. And how dare you do this to my friend? She's not talking to me now and it's all your fault." And the only reason Megan said what she did about Dalton was because she was so upset. When you get down to it, everything is David's fault.
"But what did I do?" David says.
"I saw you. You and that Liselle. Remember, sweetie? I can't believe you."
"Well, why not?"
"Why not?" Arrgggh! I pull the phone from my ear and strangle it with both hands. When I put it back to my ear he's in the middle of going on and on about Megan's trip and how she'll be away for so long.
"So that's why you did this? Because you couldn't stand for her to go away for two weeks?"
"Of course."
"David Jovanovich, you may be book smart, but you have got to be one of the biggest idiots I have ever met," I say and hang up. "Raina, guys are completely brainless morons."
Raina bites her lip and runs to the bathroom.
I hope she's okay.
And I hope Megan's okay. I should call her to tell her how I stood up to that jerk. If she's not talking to David, then she must have seen the light. So I do call. But as soon as I say hi, she says, "I am not interested in talking to you. Understand?" And hangs up.
I don't understand. I really don't.
The next day, after morning lessons and then lunch, I take Poopsie for a walk around the block. Hari tags along. I soon find out why.
"Sang, Cameron Cerulli is a total player," Hari says. "In high school that kid went through girls like I go through a refrigerator."
"He's nothing like that," I say. Suddenly I'm remembering being rescued, and that wonderful, glorious kiss. And during today's class, the sweet way he looked deeply into my eyes. Of course the talk was all about swimming, but his eyes seemed to say much more. And I'm remembering how he always speaks so gently to the little girls in the class when they're scared. "Hari, I don't have time for this," I say. I tug Poopsie's leash, leading her away from a tree where she's had an especially long sniff. We start walking faster.
"Well you better make time," Hari says, hurrying alongside me. "I didn't really know Cameron or any of his wrestling jock buddies, but I did overhear him talking in the locker room sometimes. He was always bragging about what he did with some girl. Stay away from him."
"Sure."
Within the half hour I'm back at the pool. It's private lesson time with Cameron. This was worth the extra twenty-two dollars I had to beg from Doodles. Most of it was in quarters, because she gave me most of her bills last time. When I handed him the zip-lock full of quarters, it was kind of embarrassing, but hey, you do what you have to do.
Still, I'm here, he's here, and he's smiling at me. We're talking about the little girls in his Non-swimmer class, about my trips to India and about how he wants to travel all over Europe someday. About how I love to read and he loves to drive.
"Maybe you should become a race car driver," I say.
"I said that to my mom once. She just about killed me."
I crack up.
"Don't laugh. My mom's like five foot two, but she could still put me in a head-lock if she really wanted to."
"She's just trying to keep you safe. Parents are protective. Why do you think I'm taking swim lessons?"
"Yeah. But I feel like I should be looking out for her."
I stare into those gold-flecked eyes and I no longer have a clue what he's saying. Something about conquering my fears. I feel like we have so much in common. Like we click.
I wonder how I could have ever thought I was into Gary. How Dalton's kiss ever affected me. I think my gut is telling me Cameron Cerulli is the one.
Where does Hari get off forbidding me to see him? I know Cameron better than Hari ever did, right? And each time we're together, I get to know him a little bit more...
Cameron's stopped talking. He's staring back into my eyes.
Tweeet!
We both jump. Trish is sitting on the guard stand with her whistle at her lips.
Cameron glares at her. "What?"
She gives us a poisonous look, pops her gum, and twirls her whistle.
I whisper, "I think your girlfriend is jealous."
"She is not my girlfriend."
"Really?" I try not to smile.
"Really. Okay. Let's try floating one more time. You have to get this, Sang."
I shake my head.
"Hmm." He picks me up and carries me deeper into the water.
I hold on tight. The thrill of clinging to his bare chest mixed with the terror of certain death makes me dizzy. "W-what are you doing?"
"Don't you trust me?"
"Sure." I giggle nervously.
He stops walking and I'm in water deeper than I've ever been, not counting my two drowning episodes. "Okay, Sang. You know I will save you if you need saving. So relax. And float. Let go."
"No. I can't."
Cameron sighs. "Maybe we need to make this interesting." He bites his lip. I want to bite his lip. "If you don't float, no more private lessons."
"But what's the point of that?"
"Ah-ah," he says. "Hear me out. If you do float, I will take you out on a date."
"A date?" I practically choke on the words. My heart races. My mind races. He must like me. Really like me.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up in my car and we'll go somewhere," he says. "How's that sound?"
He pushes me away from him and it's so easy.
I mean, I was already floating.
\*\*\*\*\*
"What can I wear? I don't have anything to wear." I pull tops out of my dresser and skirts out of my closet. Everything is too little girlish.
Raina eyes the clothes covering my bed, her bed, and the mound of her clothes that has grown on the floor beside her suitcase. "Well, where are you going?" she asks.
"That's just it. I don't know. In a car. On a date. That's it!" I grab fistfuls of tops from my bed and stuff them back into my drawers. "It's useless. What was I thinking?"
"It isn't useless."
"It is. He's so much older than me. What's he see in me anyway? It's not like I'm going to put out like Trish." My voice rises as I start to panic. "What if he thinks I'm going to put out? Worse, what if this is just something nice he's doing for some high schooler so she'll stop drowning every time he goes to work?"
"Sang, calm down. Sit." She shoves some of my jeans off her bed and makes me sit and breathe. "You have to relax."
"Raina, what was I thinking? Do you think Cameron is just some player?"
"Playing what?"
"Never mind. That's stupid. I'm stupid."
"Look," she says, sitting beside me, "you told me you felt you two connected, right? No one can explain romance. Older, younger, what's the difference? If two souls are meant for each other, they just are."
"You believe that?"
Raina gets a sad and faraway look in her eyes. "I have to," she whispers. She pats my hand and smiles. "Uncle-ji will like him and everything will be wonderful."
I pull my hand away. "Oh no. Uncle-ji will most definitely not approve. Which is why I need you to cover for me."
She stands. "I don't know, Sang. Uncle and Auntie-ji have been so good to me. I wouldn't feel right."
"Nobody feels right about this stuff. But what if Cameron and I are meant for each other? What if I think he might be the one? Wouldn't you tell a little lie for true love?"
"Yes." Raina suddenly grabs my hand. "In a heartbeat." She says, "You know, I think I may have something you can wear." She shifts clothes from her suitcase onto the floor until she comes to a wrap top made of shimmery blue silk. She lifts it and a photo flutters from its folds, landing by my feet.
Raina grabs for the picture, but I beat her to it. It's of the same guy I saw her looking at on the computer. He has a warm smile and black rectangular glasses. He's wearing jeans and a T-shirt and standing in front of some ancient stone temple. "Who's this?"
"Nobody."
"Raina, come on. Who is this?"
She takes the photo and runs her finger along it. "Just a friend." She gives a sad shrug. "Nothing more." She drops the picture into her suitcase and looks away, but not before I notice tears sparkling on her eyelashes.
I want to ask her what's wrong. I bite my lip.
"So what do I need to tell your parents?" she says.
"Never mind. You shouldn't have to lie for me. You don't need to say anything."
"But I think I do." She sits. "Sang, his name is Sanjay." Raina tells me all about her heartache. How she fell in love. How her parents split them up. Then how she just learned over the Internet that he is engaged to someone else.
It's like the flood all over again, I'm crying so much. Raina hands me the tissue box. "It's so sad," I say. "How could he do that to you?" I blow my nose. "Here." I hand her back the tissue box.
"I'm all cried out," she says, setting it on the floor. "And I don't think he did it. Not my Sanjay. He must have been forced by his parents."
"Oh, Raina. I'm so sorry. Here I've been going on and on about my stupid little problems with guys, and all this while you've been sitting here suffering. Why didn't you tell me? Or at least tell me to shut up?"
She shakes her head. "It's okay, Sang. There's nothing you could have done. Nothing I could have done. Once my parents discovered there was something between us, it was all over."
"But didn't you tell them you were in love?"
"Love. What's that anyway? All they know is that I am too young to date. That Sanjay is older than me. To make things worse, his last name is Patel."
"Patel. That Indian food store we go to is called Patel's. What's the problem with a Patel?"
"Nothing, if your parents are Hindu. My parents say I will only marry a Sikh. And that's that."
"Raina, forget that crap. My mom's a Catholic, and she married my dad."
"I know. My parents love Auntie, but it doesn't change their beliefs. And how I feel doesn't matter in their grand scheme of things. When Taoji fell ill, my parents could have left me home with my mother's cousins, but they wanted to separate me from Sanjay so that I would forget him. I decided I wouldn't forget and I thought Sanjay would wait for me. A mere month or two. Then I get an email from my friend, telling all she heard about the Patel engagement. And not a word from him."
Suddenly she dives for the tissue box.
"God, Raina. I am so so sorry. Listen, I'll cancel with Cameron. You shouldn't be alone."
"No!" She blots her eyes. "Don't you see, Sang? You have to go out with Cameron. You are getting the chance I didn't have with Sanjay." She grabs my hand. "Don't you dare throw it away."
I tell Cameron to pick me up at Mrs. Schnapps' house, which is four houses away from home. I tell my parents I'm off to help Megan buy a dress for the party and hang out at her house afterward. Mom asks Raina why she isn't going with me. Raina smoothly explains that Megan and I have been fighting, and so we need some time on our own. She even says that this night out together was her idea. Nice touch.
Dad eyes my silk shirt and gold necklace suspiciously. I say I'm getting picked up at the Schnapps' house so I can take care of Poopsie first.
"Hmm, good," Dad says. "Very responsible."
When I open the Schnapps' door, Poopsie comes running, her toenails clicking on the wooden floor. "Hey, Poops. Let's make this quick." I take her for a whirl around the yard and load up her food and water bowls. While Poopsie crunches away on her kibble, I sit in the wing chair by the front window waiting.
Poopsie stops eating in mid-crunch and starts to growl as a red Mustang pulls into the drive. The dog races to the door, yipping furiously.
"Bye, Poopsie," I say, giving her a rub. I leave and lock the door behind me. Cameron waves and I start to feel a little nervous. His car windows are up, but this is no match for his music, which is so loud the car is throbbing. I open the car door and I'm blasted with a combo of AC and bass. He kills the music. "Hey."
"Hi there." Hi there? What am I, in kindergarten? I fumble for the seatbelt.
Cameron reaches across my chest and grabs the belt, clicking it in place. "Ready?"
He's wearing a blue and white striped button up shirt and khaki shorts, and he smells a little of cologne. I take a deep breath and nod. "Nice car."
"Isn't she sweet?" He caresses the dashboard. "And she can really move." To demonstrate, he zooms down the drive and speeds past my house. I shrink into my seat.
The tires squeal as Cameron races around a bend, telling me about miles per gallon, the power of the engine, and how he enhanced the music system. "Listen to this quality." He flicks the music back on. Its pounding shakes my teeth. He's still telling me something, but I can't hear him. Whenever he looks at me, I just nod and smile.
The Mustang shoots along the road, tearing around corners. I grip the armrest. I have no idea where we're going. Where do twenty-year-olds go on a date? A few swift turns and I find out: the same place sixteen-year-olds go. The movie multiplex. He peels into a parking spot and jams on the brakes, making us both pitch forward and then back. He cuts the music and the engine. Silence.
He rests his arm on the back of my seat. "I was thinking we could see a scary movie."
"Great," I say, even though scary movies give me nightmares and make me kind of nauseous. Then again, there are plenty of chances to grab onto him in fear.
"Great." He reaches his left arm over, unhooks my belt, and slides it toward the door. His arm stays there and he kisses me. Cameron whispers, "This is going to be fun."
I'm about to speak when his mouth is on mine again. The kiss turns passionate.
Cameron's hand rubs my arm. My heart is pounding louder than any car stereo ever could. His thumb skims my breast.
I push him away. "We don't want to miss the movie," I say.
"Right. I thought... Am I making you uncomfortable?"
I shrug.
He taps the steering wheel a few times. "Look, I'm sorry. Can we start over?" He gets out of the car and appears at my door. He opens it and extends his hand to me as if I'm a princess. "Shall we?"
At the ticket counter he orders two tickets for One Gory Night.
"That's an 'R' movie, sir," the guy at the counter says. "I need to see some ID."
Cameron whips out his license, but there is no ID in the world that will say that I am seventeen. We end up getting tickets for an animated PG movie called The Fuzziest Bear. He leads me into the lobby, his hand on the small of my back. "Sorry," I say, completely and thoroughly embarrassed.
"That's the price I pay for dating jail-bait," Cameron says. I feel a bit stung, but he says, "Hey, I'm only kidding."
Cameron tries to convince me he secretly loves movies about fuzzy bears while we head over to the snack counter. "Don't tell anybody," he jokes.
"Your secret is safe." I smile.
"Thanks. But seriously, I'm sure we can just sneak into One Gory Night."
I hear a squeal behind me. "Sang?"
It's Monique and Jackie. Their eyes are huge.
"Oh, hey." I introduce them to Cameron and they giggle.
"Okay," he says after being stared at for a long while. "Why don't I get the popcorn while you hang out here?"
As soon as he leaves, Monique grabs my arm. "Tell everything, quick---before he comes back."
"Well, his name is Cameron. He's a lifeguard and a junior in college."
"Oh my God, Sang," Jackie says. "Is that why you dumped Dalton?"
"I didn't and it isn't."
"Sure," Monique says. "Sang Jumnal, you are one lucky, lucky girl. So much for all that stuff you said at Anna's pool party, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know, you said that guys aren't important."
"Yeah," Jackie says. "And that this summer we should all do something important."
"More like do somebody," Monique says. Jackie snorts.
"Ha, ha," I say. "Very funny." I have done something important with my time, haven't I? Well, I've taken care of Poopsie. Truly, the world will never be the same.
"Seriously, Sang," Jackie says. "Does Cameron have a friend? Someone tall, dark and fabulous?"
"Yeah, Sang," Monique says, craning her head to see Cameron by the food counter. "Here's your chance to do something wonderful. Why don't you order us up two more just like him?"
"Actually, I don't know any of his friends. It's our first date."
"Figures," Jackie says. She waves at somebody and her eyebrows suddenly furrow. "Sang, brace yourself."
I look over my shoulder and see Gary and Dalton coming toward us.
"What are they doing here?"
"We're meeting them," Jackie says, and bites her pinkie nail.
"This is unbelievable."
"Take it easy," Monique says. "It's not a date."
"Tell Cameron I'm in the bathroom," I say. But before I can escape, Gary and Dalton are there.
"Hey, guys," I say. Gary says hi. Dalton says nothing. "Gary, when did you get back?"
"Yesterday. How are things going?"
"Okay."
"More like excellent," Monique whispers.
"I didn't know you were coming," Dalton says to me.
"Oh. Well."
"Ready, babe?" Cameron says, a tub of popcorn in his arm.
"Oh. Yeah. Everybody, this is Cameron."
"He's a lifeguard," Monique says. Jackie nudges her.
Gary says hi. Dalton studies the carpet.
"Nice to meet you all," Cameron says, taking my hand and leading me away. I glance back and Dalton glares at me.
\*\*\*\*\*
We pull into the Schnapps' driveway, laughing about the movie we just saw. We did try to sneak into the horror flick, but were stopped by a security guard who was checking tickets. How incredibly, utterly mortifying. But we still managed to have a good time at the animated movie---booing the coyote villain and rooting for the bear hero. "I didn't know you were such a soft touch," I say now.
"Me? Never."
"Come on. You teared up when that bunny lost his mother."
"There was popcorn salt in my eye."
"Sure." I laugh.
Cameron cuts the engine. "That was fun," he says. "Hang on." He gets out and leads me to the front door. Poopsie is yipping ferociously on the other side.
"Well. Thank you," I say.
He takes my hands. "Any time. So, why are we standing at a neighbor's house?"
"I have to let the dog out before I get home. That's all."
"Okay." He puts his hand behind my neck and kisses me deeply. It's really nice. "Fourth of July tomorrow. Means no swim lessons. Means I won't see you until---"
"You want to come in?" This is either the dumbest or the smartest thing I've ever said.
"Nobody's home, right?" He kisses me again. "I'd better not. Unless..."
"Unless?"
"Unless you really want to let me in."
Before you know it I'm unlocking the door and throwing it open. Poopsie escapes, pees on the grass, then starts running in circles around the front yard. "Oh crap," I say, racing after her. Cameron starts running too.
"Go left," he says, turning right. Suddenly we have Poopsie cornered by the hedges along the edge of the property. The dog sits.
I quickly scoop her up. "Bad doggie."
"Aw," Cameron says, rubbing her ears. "She's cute. She just wanted a little walk on the wild side." Poopsie wags her tail.
Inside the Schnapps' house, I close the door and set Poopsie down. Cameron and I go into the living room and sit on the red velvet couch. He leans toward me ever so slowly for a kiss. I close my eyes and tilt closer. My lips hit poodle fur.
"Poopsie!" I push her off the couch and wipe my mouth.
Cameron cracks up and takes my hand. "I'm really having a great time with you tonight, Sang."
I look at our hands together. "Me too. I..."
"What?"
"Nothing," I say and crinkle my brow, my mind full of unasked questions about him and Trish.
"Something's bugging you, isn't it?" He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You can tell me whatever's on your mind. Okay?"
I nod.
"So what did you want to ask me?"
Suddenly I don't feel like talking. I put my hand on his warm cheek and look into his eyes. He leans in slowly, pausing just before our lips touch. I can feel the heat between us. Our mouths meet. We kiss deeply---passionately. My breathing speeds up. My nose whistles! It actually plays the melody to "Doe a deer," like it's starring in The Sound of Music. It stops. Cameron doesn't seem to have noticed anything.
We kiss some more. My nose again plays, "Doe a deer." God no.
Cameron stops in mid-kiss, puts his mouth by my ear, and sings, "a female deer." He looks me in the eye. I bite my lip, sure I'm going to completely die of mortification. Only I don't. Instead, we both burst out laughing.
And kiss some more. Good thing the Broadway nose show seems to have closed down. Before I realize it, I'm lying back on the couch. Cameron is partly on top of me. His lips travel down my neck.
I should stop him. This is our first date.
He's running his tongue along my collarbone. Oh wow.
I should stop him, even though I don't want to. I twine my fingers through his hair. I shiver and tell myself, don't think.
But I do think. If I stop him, am I being a prude? If I don't stop him, am I like Trish?
Cameron seems to sense my hesitation and looks up at me, his face flushed. "You okay?"
Yes! No! "Actually, Cameron, could we just talk for a while?" He studies me for a moment, then forces a smile. "Sure. Wait a sec. Let's get a little more comfortable first."
He lies alongside me, his arm around my shoulder, my head resting on his neck. We talk about all sorts of things. Like how he was this dork in middle school and the shortest kid in his class. And how in elementary school I wanted to be a ballerina, until I discovered twirling around made me fall over---especially in the middle of recitals.
"Poor little Sang," he says, kissing the top of my head. I snuggle in closer. "Guess we'll check ballerina off your list of future jobs, then."
"How's your list looking these days?"
He takes in a deep breath. "The future's looking grim, actually. Last year was pretty screwed up. Let's just say things haven't exactly gone my way."
"Hey, you want to talk about it?" I ask.
"Nah. Anyway, things are looking much better right now." He gives me a meaningful look.
"And we've got all summer," I dare to say.
"I might have to go away."
"On vacation?"
"Not exactly." He rubs his eyes. "Sang, no one at the pool can know about this, so this is just between the two of us, okay?"
I nod.
"I kind of blew a required course last semester," he says. "I had to take an incomplete, and if my professor doesn't like the paper I'm sending him, I'll have to leave my job, go back to campus and do the class again during the second summer session. If I don't pass the class again, well, let's just say I have to pass it."
"When would this happen?"
"If my paper isn't good enough, then pretty soon."
"But you'll be back when this class is done, right? And on the weekends?"
He studies me. "Only if there's something real that's worth coming back for, you know?"
I nod and swallow hard. He rubs my cheek with his thumb.
Poopsie jumps onto the couch and lies down on Cameron's stomach.
"She certainly likes you," I say.
"I have that affect on women."
"Like Trish," I say, sitting up. "She seems to think you're hers. Did you know that?"
He sighs. "What can I tell you? I'm not into her. I never have been. She throws these crazy parties and all the guards go. She's got a great car, so I drive it sometimes. And she's a huge flirt. That's it. Believe me."
I want to believe.
"She's not like you," he says. "You're smart, and funny, and I really like talking with you, and..." He looks adorably awkward and rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this," he says.
I smile and he pulls me back into his strong arms.
I feel protected. And cared for. And it's all very real to me.
The next morning is Wednesday, the Fourth of July. We all get ready for the picnic. Hari and Raina are packing up food with Dad in the kitchen. Mom is folding a large Indian print bed sheet for us to sit on. Everybody but me is wearing American flag T-shirts---even Raina, who borrowed mine. Mom sends me into the basement to gather up paper napkins, plates and plastic cutlery from a shelf.
I dump these on the dining table next to the giant purple tote we're bringing.
"Sang, where's your patriotic spirit?" Mom asks, noticing my gray T-shirt and black shorts.
"Here," I say, showing her the red, white and blue hair ties holding up my ponytail.
"Wow. You really outdid yourself." She stuffs the blanket into the tote.
"Do you think I can bring Poopsie along? She could use some company."
"Good question. I'm not sure they allow dogs. But it is outdoors."
"Can I try? If they say no, I can always bring her back."
"I guess. Just don't bring her too close to me." She shivers.
"Mom, you suffer from Poodlephobia. You should really face your fears, you know."
"Very funny," she says, tucking some frizz into her bun.
"I'm serious. What if someday you're surrounded by a herd of angry toy poodles, and they're nipping at your feet, and wagging those deadly little lollipop-shaped tails of theirs at you? How will you survive?"
"Just go tell Doodles we're ready to go."
We all set off on foot with Poopsie tugging at the leash. As we near Fonthill I can hear a woman belting out "God Bless America" over the loudspeaker.
We get in the line to pay and Raina cranes her head to see beyond the admission table. Ahead of us is the long drive lined with giant sycamores, their bark speckled brown and green and tan like army fatigues. I notice Hari looking up at the trees. I suspect he's thinking about Michelle Baldarasi.
Beyond the trees at the end of the drive is the castle, a tall and twisty mix of cement walls, long windows and oddly shaped balconies. People are all along the drive and in the fields on either side. I see babies in strollers, toddlers holding balloons, grandparents in straw hats blotting their necks with handkerchiefs, and kids on tacky decorated bikes. But hardly a teen and no dogs.
"Sorry, Poopsie," I say. "I may need to take you straight home."
"How many?" the guy at the table says to us.
I turn. "Dalton? What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Raina," he says.
"Who's this?" Dad says, pulling his wallet out. "A friend of yours?"
As hot as the weather already is, I feel my face heat up even more. "Mom, Dad, this is Dalton Dreyfus."
"Nice to meet you," Dalton says and reaches out to shake my Dad's hand.
Dad places money on Dalton's outstretched palm.
"Very nice to meet you," Mom says sweetly.
The singer on the flag-studded stage by the castle is crooning, "Stand beside her, and guide her..." Dalton stamps an American flag on each person's hand. When Dalton stamps a flag on Raina, he says, "Have fun."
"Thanks," I say, even though he's not talking to me. He pounds the stamper on my hand, leaving a smeared flag.
I say, "Should we try again, or will this flag be okay? I have to get back in again, because I have to take the dog home."
"No need to try again," he says. "The dog's welcome to stay." He stares into my eyes. "Just clean up your mess."
"Right. Good to see you, Dalton."
"Next," he says.
We drag our stuff up the drive and find a spot under the shade of a large tree. I swipe away tiny gnats buzzing around my face. The sun is intense and high overhead, and I'm already wet with sweat. Not exactly a great day for picnics and races. A better day for the pool.
The pool. Cameron. Sigh.
Mom and Hari spread the blanket, which flutters and makes the elephants printed on it seem to dance. I immediately fall onto it and groan. "I need something cold. Hari, hand me a soda or something."
He lifts the cooler lid, pulls out a root beer, opens it, and chugs it.
"Thanks a lot. Mom? Anybody? A drink for me?" Poopsie licks my face. "Thanks. That's lovely."
Later on, we're lounging on the blankets, enjoying our meal. Raina and Dad went to the Indian grocery store last night and conspired to stock our cooler with nimbu-pani (limeade), and the tote has deep-fried pakoras and sandwiches filled with chole (chick peas) or baingan (smushed up spiced eggplant). I taste everything except the baingan. I try the gobi (cauliflower) pakoras, which are just okay. The potato ones, though, are excellent. Doodles isn't so crazy about any of this and has a hot dog from the refreshment stand. I give Poopsie some bread, which she devours. She sniffs Mom's foot and Mom jumps up like a cockroach just touched her.
"Take it easy, Lena," Dad says.
"Yeah, Mom," I say. "Chill. What's the problem?"
Mom rubs her temples. "Okay, if you must know, when I was little, I was visiting an uncle of mine in upstate New York with my family. They had a new dog, a cute little poodle." A shiver runs through her. "I went to play with it in the garage, where they had a little bed and some toys for it. But I accidentally got locked in there for hours."
"And the dog bit you?" I ask.
Mom shakes her head. "No. Actually, the dog played with me. I cried and banged on the door, and the dog sat by my feet kind of protectively."
"Aw." I pat Poopsie's head. "That's sweet. So what's the problem?"
"I don't know." She shrugs. "I've had this fear of dogs ever since. Fear doesn't always make sense, you know."
I look at Dad. "Yeah. I get that."
For dessert there is a crate of delicious mangoes. I wipe mango juice from my chin and toss a peel into our trash bag. "Well this was a typical American picnic." I roll my eyes at Dad.
"Tonight will be an all-American barbecue, I promise," he says. He gnaws at the stringy fruit around the mango pit.
Someone announces the start of three-legged races and relays.
"Come on, everybody!" Doodles says.
"Can't. I've got the dog," I say.
"Hurry," Doodles says. She grabs Raina and Hari and pulls. My parents follow.
I lie on my back and stare at the leaves overhead. Listen to parents cheering their kids on in the races. Poopsie snuggles under my arm, we both close our eyes, and I think about Cameron...
"Sang, look, we won!"
I crack open my eyes and see a blue ribbon shoved in my face. "That's great, Doodles," I say from my semi-conscious state. "How long was I out?"
"Sang?" Raina says. "Where's Poopsie?"
My eyes fly wide open. "No!" I stand and twirl around. "I've lost her."
"Now just calm down," Mom says. "She hasn't been gone for long. I'm sure she's around here somewhere."
"Poopsie!" I shout and run past the stage. Everywhere I look, I think I see her, but it's only a Styrofoam plate on the grass or a child's stuffed animal on a blanket. "Poopsie?"
People stare.
"Have you seen a poodle?" I ask a lady holding cotton candy. She shakes her head. Behind the castle, tents are set up where children are coloring pictures and decorating paper fans. I look under the table: nothing but human feet. Beyond this is a roped-off area where people are trying to walk on stilts. They're falling off, laughing and trying again.
"I've lost my dog," I say to them. "An apricot poodle. Have you seen her?" Everyone says no. I look around me at the woods in the distance. I think about the road beyond that. Tears prick my eyes. How could I have been so stupid? Mrs. Schnapps depended on me. Poopsie trusted me.
I race back to the front of the castle. My heart's beating so fast that I can hardly breathe. I shade the sun from my eyes and scan the field alongside the entrance drive. Amid all the green I see something. It's apricot and moving in a wide circle.
I take off after it, jumping over a picnic basket and stepping in a plate of coleslaw.
"Hey, watch it!" a man yells.
"Sorry!" I say but race on. Poopsie is like a bullet shooting across the lawn, her ears flapping, her leash flying like a cape behind her. She looks like the happiest poodle in the universe. She makes a quick turn and heads straight for the road.
"No! Poopsie, don't!" I pump my legs and tear after her, even though I know I'll never make it. She's too far ahead. Too fast. A minivan is speeding along the roadway.
I'm running faster than I ever thought I could. I'm closing in, but I know I'll never make it. Poopsie is at the road. The van's approaching.
Someone darts from the castle drive. Throws himself on the ground. Grabs for the leash. Poopsie is jerked backward.
I get there just as he stands, brushing gravel and dirt from his shirt and legs. "Yours?" Dalton says, panting, handing me the leash.
I take one look at Poopsie, who is sitting peacefully with her tongue hanging out. Not at all the road pizza I expected. "Thank you!" I throw myself at Dalton, practically knocking him down again.
"It's okay," he says. "Forget it."
"No," I say, squeezing even tighter. "Never. You saved her. If you weren't here, that would have been it."
"Sang."
"Yes?"
"You're choking me."
"Oh. Right." I loosen my grip, and he pulls me away from him and holds me at arm's length.
I suddenly realize the awkwardness of this and let go completely. And I start to babble. "So I fell asleep and I had the leash in my hand and I didn't mean to fall asleep." I point at Poopsie. "Bad dog. You nearly gave me a heart attack. You nearly killed yourself. How could you do such a thing? Huh?"
Poopsie raises her ears and cocks her head to one side, but otherwise is unaffected by my scolding. "Dalton, thank you so much for---" I turn and see he's heading back to the ticketing table. "Thank you!" I shout. He raises a hand but continues on his way.
I kneel down and hug Poopsie tight, and watch Dalton go.
It's Thursday morning, and when Mom's car pulls up to the curb, I'm the first one out. I'm thinking that maybe after lessons I can ask Cameron to Anna's party.
By the poolside, I set down my towel and kick off my flip-flops before Raina and Doodles even reach their class. Trish is already in the water with the little non-swimmers. I look around, but don't see any sign of Cameron yet, so I sit on the edge and wait.
"We're starting," Trish says, joining hands with the other three non-swimmers for yet another round of "Ring Around the Rosie."
I swirl my feet in the water but otherwise don't move.
Trish says. "Girls, keep going without me. I'll be right back." The girls start skipping in a circle and singing. Trish wades over to me and just stares, her arms crossed.
"What?" I say after a long moment.
"He's not coming," she says. "He said he didn't want to deal with you."
I glare at her.
"Oh. Did you actually think that date was serious? Aw, you poor little kid." She sits beside me and whispers, "Listen, Sang. It was all a joke, okay? He came back and told me and the other guards about it."
I stare at some point in the distance. I say, "I don't believe you," even though part of me wonders if she's telling the truth.
"Hey, just trying to look out for you," she says like she's my very best friend. "Oh well." She stands.
"You know, Trish, Cameron told me he's not into you," I say. "He said he never was."
Trish narrows her eyes at me.
"He likes your car, though. Hey, just trying to look out for you." I get up, grab my towel and flip-flops, and go out to the playground.
Later, back at home, Raina says, "Don't be so down. Trish must be lying."
"I know," I say, pacing the room. "At least I think I do. But what if for once she's actually telling the truth?"
"Sang. Come on. Don't do that to yourself."
I sink onto my bed, staring at Jake Gyllenhaal and his sword. I feel like a knife is being slowly plunged into my heart.
"You have to stop this, Sang. You need to do something to get your mind off things."
"You're right." Jake's blade gives me just the idea. I grab Raina's arm, pull her to the bathroom, and hold up a disposable razor.
"Oh no," she says, covering her chin.
"It's not for your face. Come on, Raina. It's makeover time."
At first Raina is uptight about using a razor and she nicks her ankle. But she soon gets the knack. "Now get in the shower and do under your arms." I go back to my room. In my closet I find two of last year's bikinis. When Raina comes back with a towel around her wet hair, I say, "Show."
She lifts her arm a little.
"Like night and day. Here." I hand her a brown and pink striped bikini.
"Oh no." She hands it back. "I couldn't."
"Why not? There's a pool party at Anna's tonight. Remember? Do you really want to wear that red granny suit?"
She bites her lip and takes the suit. "You are corrupting me, you know that?"
I laugh. "What will your Mummy and Papa say?"
That afternoon, Raina and I walk through downtown Doylestown. I freeze in front of the This Is It! boutique. The dress is still there in the window. I've never even tried it on. At least I can try it on.
So I do. I step out of the dressing room in front of a three-way mirror.
"Lovely," the shopkeeper says and claps. She's wearing cat's eye glasses on a string and looks knowledgeable.
Raina emerges in a teal satin dress with black tulle. We both twirl.
"Perfect fits," the shopkeeper says. "These really flatter your figures."
I look into the mirror at three of me staring back, and can't help but agree with the wise woman.
The bell over the shop door rings. "Excuse me, ladies. Just call if you need anything," she says, hurrying to the front of the store.
"Raina," I say, "we have to get these dresses."
"So you are going to the dance?"
I stare at myself looking so much more elegant than I ever imagined. "Maybe."
"But how much are they? I didn't see a price."
"I know. I haven't seen price tags on anything. Change and we'll ask the saleslady. Maybe she can hold them for us until I get paid." I just hope Mrs. Schnapps comes back before the party.
"I do have some spending money back at the house," Raina says.
We both reemerge from our dressing rooms in our boring everyday shorts and T-shirts, each of us holding our perfect dress on a hanger. We push our way through the narrow aisles toward the front of the store where I hear someone trying to convince the shopkeeper to carry a new line of belly jewels.
"Like for piercings, you know? I call them 'Contemplate Your Naval.' You can keep them on the counter. They'll go great with your new line of jeans."
"Well..." the shopkeeper says. "I guess we can put some out and see how it goes. You are one of my best customers."
When we get to the counter, there's the shopkeeper with Liselle, the Megan-David love buster. And beside her is Trish, the Sang-Cameron love buster. Both are wearing high-heeled sandals and cut off skirts cut way too short. We all glare at each other for a moment. "Looks like they'll let anyone in here," Trish says.
"Ignore them," I whisper, and turn to the saleslady. "We were just wondering how much these are. I couldn't find a price tag."
Trish laughs. "Honey, if you have to ask, you can't afford it."
"Let's see," the clerk says, adjusting her glasses. "The one you're holding is six hundred and seventy-five, and that one is five hundred and sixty."
"Oh," I say.
"Oh," Raina says.
"Well, okay." I hang mine on a rack. "Thank you." Raina hangs hers up, too.
"Have you looked at our half-price rack?"
Why bother? Half of a fortune is still too much. Humbled, we open the shop door, making the bells ring.
"I hear there's a sale at Kmart," Trish calls after us. "Why don't you try there?" Liselle snickers.
"Bitches," I mutter, just before the door falls shut behind us. Striding up Main Street, I clench my fists. "God, I hate them."
Raina scurries to keep up. "You shouldn't let them get to you."
"Believe me, I'd love to forget they even exist, but how can I when Trish and Cameron are probably going at it?"
"Now stop that. Have positive thoughts."
"Okay. I'm positive Trish and Cameron are going at it. And poor Megan. That thing stole her boyfriend. I mean, why are guys so interested in them anyway? Because they dress like whores? Because they're rich? Because they'll do anything with anybody?" I stop. "Okay. Not real hard to figure out."
"Not every guy is into that," Raina says.
"I'm starting to wonder. You got any money on you?"
Raina pulls a bunch of quarters from her pocket.
"Could you possibly buy a chocolate bar? I could really use one right now." Raina nods and we continue up the street. "You know, it's just not fair. If we were rich, we could buy those dresses and every guy that saw us would fall head over heels in love. But we can't even think of buying them. It's like, what do you call it? Survival of the fittest?"
"Natural selection," Raina says. "Only the most attractive, most adaptable of the species carry on their traits to the next generation."
"Because they're the only ones who are getting the guys. It all comes down to money, doesn't it? Anybody with enough money can get boob jobs, nose jobs, hair extensions, bleached teeth, nail tips, and whatever eye color they want. Who says money can't buy happiness?"
I think about Taoji and how his life may be saved because we were able to get the money. But what about other sick people in the world who don't have money? What happens to them?
Money equals life.
And what about Raina and Sanjay? If Sanjay were really rich, perhaps her parents wouldn't care that he's Hindu.
Money equals love.
We buy two dark chocolate bars from Nuts Plus. We peel back the foil as we wander down the alley and through the back parking lot heading toward home. I take a huge bite, swallow and say, "We still need dresses."
"Well," Raina says, licking chocolate from the corner of her mouth, "I hear Kmart is having a sale."
I laugh.
"And I hear there's a special there on Telly Tubby underwear," Trish says. She and Liselle stand in front of us arms crossed, hips tilted, and a "Contemplate Your Naval" belly button jewel hanging from each belly. "And I heard what you called us back at the store."
"Whatever." We move to pass them but Trish and Liselle shove us back.
"Where do you think you're going?" Trish says. "Kmart is the other way." She slaps the chocolate bar out of my hand. It immediately starts to melt on the hot pavement. Wonderful dark chocolate going to waste.
"Now you've gone too far," I say. I think it's a line from a movie.
"What'cha gonna do about it?" Trish says.
Okay. That's definitely a line from a movie. I laugh. "You can't be serious. Are we supposed to rumble now?" Raina gives me a worried look. "Come on, Raina. Let's go." We turn and walk in the opposite direction.
"Sang, you were so brave," Raina says.
I shrug. "That's how you get rid of trash." We laugh. Pain rips at my skull. Trish has grabbed a bunch of my hair and is pulling me backward.
"What did you call me?" she says.
I grit my teeth. "Stop."
"Not so smug now, right?" Trish says in this satisfied way.
Liselle laughs. I feel a sting of humiliation as bad as the sting in my scalp.
"Let go of her," Raina says, coming at us. Liselle pushes her back.
Trish pulls my hair higher. I stand on my toes.
I elbow Trish in her boob. No reaction. Fake like the rest of her. I punch at her hand that's holding my hair. She lets go and howls, "My nail! She broke it!"
"No!" Liselle says, horrified. Like I threw acid in someone's face. "Nobody does that to my girl."
Before I know it, it's a full frontal skank attack. Nail tips first, Trish comes at me, gouging my arms and slashing at my face. I push her away and see Liselle bending Raina's arm behind her back. Raina is trying to kick her.
Trish pushes me so I land on my ass on the pavement. My hand is cut. There's no one else in sight. Why doesn't somebody come by and call 911 or something?
I start to stand but Trish pushes me again. I bounce painfully back to the ground. Trish laughs.
"What the hell is your problem?" I look at the cuts on my shaking hands.
"You. You think you're so special, don't you, TB? The truth is, you're nothing. And you're nothing to Cameron. At least that's what he told me last night in bed." She dusts off her hands. "Okay, we're done here. Come on, Liselle."
Furious, I scramble to my feet. Liselle shoves Raina against me and says, "Bye, girls."
That's when I notice that Raina's cheek is raked with scratches and she's teary-eyed.
I reach over and yank down Trish's teeny tiny skirt to her knees. Not only is she not wearing Telly Tubby underwear---she's not wearing any underwear!
Trish squeals.
Liselle dives for me but instantly Raina yanks down Liselle's skirt to her knees. Again, no underwear.
There's the beep of a car unlocking and I see an unsuspecting family walking to their minivan. "Oh!" the mom says, covering her little boy's eyes. It's the same boy who stared at Liselle's coin slot back at the library.
Suddenly Trish and Liselle try to grab us, but it's kind of hard to move forward with a skirt around your knees and your wazoo hanging out. Trish falls over and curses. Liselle tries to help her up.
Raina and I turn and run as fast as we can in our flip-flops. Trish and Liselle are soon readjusted and clacking after us in their high-heeled sandals. But Raina and I kick off and grab our flip-flops, and flat out run till we are safely home.
We stand on the front porch sweating and panting. "I---I'm so sorry," I say, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
"No. It's okay," she says breathlessly. "It was great."
I straighten up. "Great?"
"This proves Cameron really likes you, Sang. Why else would Trish be so aggressive? You threaten her."
"You really think so?" My throat tightens as I wonder about the whole 'in bed' comment.
"Definitely. Plus, now your life is so 'One Tree Hill.'"
"Well, cool." I smile and put my arm around Raina. We go inside and find Doodles with her chuni, a golden scarf, draped over her head. "What happened?" she says, eyeing the cuts on our faces and our messed-up hair.
"Cat fight," I say.
"Oh," she says, like this is the most natural thing in the world. "Well, you almost missed everything."
"Missed what?" I say, squeezing her nose.
She smacks my hand away. "We're doing a Sikh service. Daddy's suddenly all holy today. And we get to have lots of pat-a-shah."
"Prashad," Raina and I say together. Prashad is golden and sweet and warm. I think it's a mix of some kind of grain and butter and sugar, but it's so thick you can eat it with your hands.
"Hurry up. The call's gonna come any second." Doodles runs into the living room.
"What call?" We follow her, and there is Hari, Dad, and Mom. Mom's wearing a scarf. Dad and Hari are wearing bandanas. Everyone is barefoot.
"Girls. Good," Mom says, adjusting her scarf. "I was wondering when you'd get back. What happened?"
"Cat fight," Doodles says.
"What?" Mom practically screeches.
"Real cats, Mom," I lie. "Don't worry, it was just a friend's cats. No rabies or anything." I'm getting to be as smooth a liar as Raina.
"You better put some ointment on those scratches. Clean up fast and go get something to cover your heads. We're having a little service. Taiji's calling, and we'll follow her on the speakerphone."
"Oh. Okay."
"Hari," Mom says, "help your father move the coffee table."
Up in my room, I say, "Well, this is a new one."
Raina grabs two chunis from her bag, tossing me a pink one. "You never do a service at home?"
"Never. We go to the gurdwara up north once in a while, but that's about as Sikh as we get. Is there some sort of Sikh holiday today?"
"Not that I know of."
I stare in the mirror at the scratches on my face. "Come on. We'd better put some of that antibacterial junk on these suckers. I'm sure those girls must have some disease." Raina laughs.
When we're in the bathroom dabbing ointment on, the phone rings.
"Hurry, girls," Mom calls.
"Ha. Ha Bobbi-ji," Dad says into the phone as Raina and I come downstairs. "Hold on." He hits speakerphone and sets the handset on the shelf beside a large metal bowl filled with prashad.
"Hello? Can you hear?" Taiji's voice says, sounding thin and metallic.
"Ha-ji. Carry on."
Raina and I stand on the Persian carpet with everyone else. We're all barefoot like we would be if we were in the gurdwara. Taiji begins reciting from the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy book. Or at least that's what I guess she's doing. She could be reading off her grocery list for all I know. We all stand still, hands folded, facing the fireplace, which seems kind of silly. On the mantle is a snapshot of Taoji Ravinder. Suddenly it's not so silly. I close my eyes tight. And I pray.
"Sat Sri Akal," Taiji says, and we repeat, "Sat Sri Akal." God is all. Or something like that. And we watch Dad, because he's the only one---aside from Raina, I guess---who knows when to sit and when to touch our heads to the ground.
The service continues, and it probably seems much longer than it is because I really have no idea if we're anywhere near the end. Doodles whispers, "Can I have some now?" She points to the prashad. Hari shakes his head at her. "But why not?" she says. Hari elbows her.
"Sat Sri Akal," Taiji intones.
"Sat Sri Akal," we all repeat.
At last Dad takes the bowl and puts a buttery spoonful of prashad on our outstretched hands.
"Can I have some more?" Doodles says.
"Sure," Dad says, removing his bandana and wiping the butter off his fingers. He picks up the phone. "Thank you so much, Bobby-ji. This meant so much to me. I just wish---" He chokes up.
"Bless you. Ravinder will feel your prayers and I know---"
Dad shuts off the speakerphone, so I never find out what she knows. Raina and I exchange worried looks. I go to the kitchen and wipe my hand with a paper towel. Hari is there, taking small bowls from the cabinet. He whispers in my ear, "The chemo starts tomorrow."
I give him a surprised look. "What about the transplant?" I whisper.
"That comes next. But first the chemo kills off the bad bone marrow."
"Kills it off?"
"That's the process," he whispers back.
"Wait, how do you know about all this?"
"Shh," he says. "Just getting some bowls, Mom," he says as she enters the kitchen.
She tucks some of her frizz back into her bun. "Good," she says. "Right. Well, there's plenty of prashad for seconds." She takes the bowls and grabs a handful of spoons from the drawer. "Come have some."
"We'll be there in a minute," I say. Looking distracted, she wanders out of the kitchen. "Hari," I say in a low voice, "how do you know all this?"
"Mom." He pumps the soap from the hand dispenser and rinses off his hands.
I shut off the water. "You weren't supposed to tell. Raina promised Dad she wouldn't, and now he's going to blame her. And she'll blame me. And I'll blame you." I punch his arm.
He holds up his dripping hands. "Take it easy. I just told Mom a bunch of guesses that I had until she caved."
I put my hands on the counter. "So at least it's out in the open now."
"Not exactly. Mom doesn't know you know. And Doodles doesn't know. And Mom doesn't want Dad to even know that I'm in the loop."
So Dad knows that Raina and Mom know; Raina knows that Mom, Dad and I know; Hari and I know that Dad, Mom, Raina and he know; Mom knows that Hari and Dad know. And Doodles, that lucky kid, knows nothing at all. I rub my brow. "This is crazy."
"I know." Hari wipes his hands on his jeans. "Dad's all freaked out about Taoji. Mom says he can barely talk about it with her."
"He really is that superstitious?" I say. "It's so idiotic."
"Yeah, the whole thing pisses me off," Hari says. He eyes my scratches. "So, what really happened to you?"
"You do not want to know."
"Coming, kids?" Mom calls to us.
"Yeah," Hari calls back, and whispers in my ear, "at least I can ask Mom for updates now." I nod, grateful that I have a big brother. He pats me on the shoulder and I grab him in a hug. Hari's arms tighten protectively for a moment. "Come on," he says, leading me into the living room.
Dad is sitting on the couch, staring at his hands clasped in his lap.
Taoji is Dad's big brother.
I sit close beside Dad. He takes my hand and squeezes it. The scratches on my hand hurt when he squeezes, but I don't pull away. I lean my head on his shoulder. I can't think of anything to say to make things better. But for once, this seems to be okay.
"So you're done with Dalton? You're sure?" Jackie asks. She studies me with concerned eyes.
"And he's done with me," I say. I know this is supposed to be a party and I'm supposed to be having fun. But I keep thinking about Taoji's bone marrow getting killed off by chemotherapy. It sounds so painful and violent and deadly. I looked it up online. The process can take anywhere from one week to several weeks. The patient will have no immunity and the slightest infection can kill him if the tough chemo doesn't. Taoji will be weak and feel sick all the time. And he has to survive this before the BMT can even begin. We need a miracle.
"So you wouldn't care if I, you know? Showed some interest?" She chews on her lip.
I look up at Jackie. I completely forgot what we were talking about.
"I mean, you do have Cameron and all. Soda?" She hands me a diet cola.
"No thanks." I hand it back.
"What happened to your face, anyway?" She points to my scratches.
"Nothing. Raina and I just ran into some thorny bushes." I grin and look over my shoulder at Raina sitting on the far side of Anna's pool. She looks adorable in my bikini, if somewhat hunched over and awkward. She's talking with some guy, but in the torchlight I can't quite make out who.
It's a good thing Raina's dad is a match to Taoji Ravinder's bone marrow type. When I was researching, I also looked up stuff on donors. It turns out siblings have the best chance of a match. If no one in the family had matched him, Taoji would have had to go to this donor database where strangers sign up just because they want to help somebody someday. But there aren't that many donors out there, and among strangers, your best chances are among your own ethnic group. How many Indian donors are there? Not many, it turns out. There's a desperate need for non-white donors.
That's when it hit me. I'm half Indian. That's got to count for something genetically, right? I mean, it must be really hard for someone who is biracial to find a bone marrow match. Here is something I can do to change the world---to really make a difference. I, Sangeet Jumnal, am going to become a bone marrow donor. And it won't even hurt, not really. The website said the process involves taking stem cells through my blood. First I'd get my blood tested to identify my marrow type. Then, if I matched anyone, I'd get hooked up to this machine that takes blood from one arm, removes the stem cells, and pumps the blood back into my other arm. It'd take a few hours of sitting still. The site said the stem cells even grow back, so it'd be no huge sacrifice on my part. But I would be a lifesaver---a miracle worker, even.
Jackie and Monique would be very impressed.
So I tried to sign up. That's when I found out I had to be at least eighteen.
Story of my life.
"Raina is so cute," Jackie is saying. "If I were you, I'd keep her away from Cameron."
"Right." I figure out who Raina's chatting with. Gary Westbrock. I shouldn't care, right? I mean, my heart's with Cameron. But it all feels so complicated. All romance feels complicated. First I liked Gary, but Gary liked Michelle. Michelle likes Hari, who isn't that into Michelle, but is with her anyway, and Dalton liked me, but I'm into Cameron, who is either the man of my dreams and the love of my life, or a player who likes the Trish type. Please no. But that's it. My life. No miracles here. "Do you ever think about religion?"
"Why?" Jackie says. "Is Dalton some weird religion?"
"No. Religion as a career. Like being a nun. Think about it: no issues with guys, and you always know what you're going to wear the next day."
Jackie raises an eyebrow. "I'm becoming concerned about you."
Laughter erupts from the other side of the pool. Gary and Raina are cracking up. I feel a sudden need to get in on the joke. "Excuse me." I head over to them, but then Dalton sits on the other side of Raina. Megan joins them. I stop, suddenly feeling strangely alone.
About face. I head to the lounge chairs, where Anna is deep in discussion with Jonathan. "So I'll see you then?" he says.
"Great!" Anna says. "Thanks."
"Well, guess I'll get going." He scratches his head and leaves.
"Where's he going?" I ask.
"I have no idea. But I do know who I'm going to my party with. Jonathan just asked me."
"Yeah!"
"So are you bringing that hunky lifeguard I'm hearing so much about?"
Cameron. I suddenly want to scream, cry, and laugh all at the same time. Maybe I'm losing it. "I haven't asked Cameron," I say. I sit on the lounge and stare at Dalton, who is whispering to Raina. I feel a weird flash of jealousy. I am losing it.
Anna studies me. "You should ask Cameron. If you're worried about Dalton being alone, don't. Jackie's going to ask him to go with her, so he'll be fine."
"Well, I don't even have a dress."
Anna drags me upstairs and throws open her walk-in closet, which is jammed with fancy dresses from events she's recently attended. Weddings, galas sponsored by her dad's corporation, and events with her parents who like to spread their wealth around various artistic institutions. She tells me to pick anything I want for the party. Anything, that is, except for her dress---the red one I had my heart set on from This Is It! She says, "You think it'll look okay on me?"
I give her a faint smile.
By the end of the night, I have temporarily escaped into the world of fashion, and picked out a really beautiful black strapless dress with white lace trim. And I drag Raina up to do her own "shopping." She's a smaller size than Anna and I, but finds a champagne-colored silk wraparound dress that ties to fit her perfectly. It's really elegant.
Also by the end of the night, Jackie asks Dalton to accompany her to the birthday bash. I observe from a distance while he blushes a lot and nods. Gary asks Raina to the dance. When she tells me, I say, "Great, really." Who says I don't do anything wonderful and important? I'm supplying guys to everyone in the universe. Of course Megan avoids me all night. You know---just an average evening.
Back at home, we hang our dresses, or rather Anna's dresses, in my closet. "All I need are some golden sandals and I'm set," Raina says.
Here's where I should say to her that Gary and I have a sort of history, at least on my side. At least I should say he's interested in Michelle Baldarasi. I mean, I wouldn't want her to get hurt. But why wreck the moment? We can all at least try to be happy for a while.
"And perhaps Cameron can drive us all," Raina's saying. "We can double date."
Cameron. There's that scream-cry-laugh feeling again. "You forget. I don't have a date."
"Oh Sang, you have to come. I can't go without you. Just ask Cameron. Be brave."
But I'm not brave. If I were, I wouldn't still be in Non-swimmer. I wouldn't be doubting Cameron's feelings. And I wouldn't stay up late at night worrying what special hellish payback Trish is setting up for me. Like kidnapping me and forcing me to get a Telly Tubby tattoo.
I look at my poster and wonder if Jake Gyllenhaal is brave in real life. Or is it just acting? When you get down to it, there's only one person I know of who is really brave, who is fighting a battle for his life.
I close my eyes and think, "God bless you, Taoji."
\*\*\*\*\*
"What happened?" Cameron points to the scratches on my cheek.
"Nothing," I say, glancing at Trish. "Nothing that matters, anyway."
"Okay, Sang," he says. "Time to concentrate. You can do it. I can feel it in my bones." I feel like I'm the only one in the pool with him, even though it's Non-swimmer class time and a half-dozen other swim lessons are going on in the deeper sections at this very moment.
He gives me a warm smile. My stomach flips. It's that gut of mine again telling me I really care for this guy, and he really cares for me. He was only out of work during my lesson yesterday because he had a dentist appointment. He told me he missed me, and he was adorably awkward when he said this.
My stomach may also be flipping because it's seized with a gripping fear that he's right. That I might actually be able to stick my head under the water. It's like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff about to take a giant leap of faith. I can always pull my head out again, can't I? But what if something happens? I trip or choke or bang my head on the bottom and become unconscious?
My skin tingles with terror at the thought of this. But on the other side of the country, at this very moment, Taoji Ravinder's tear-shaped bone marrow is being destroyed. Obliterated. And when it's all killed off, he has to start all over again. Soon my other Taoji will give his stem cells. Send them flowing out of a tube. New cells for Taoji. New risks. What if Taoji's body rejects the cells? It's a true fight against death.
If I can't do this simple task, how can Taoji face what is ahead of him?
I can do this. I have to.
I draw in a deep, deep breath.
"Hey, you okay?" Cameron says.
"Or is your nose about to whistle again?" Trish says from behind me and laughs.
I deflate. "You told her?"
"He tells me all sorts of things," Trish says. "Right, baby?"
Baby? I spin to Trish, who has a "Contemplate Your Naval" ruby gem hanging like a large drop of blood from her pierced belly button.
"And we just laugh and laugh," she says.
Cameron's laughing too. I give him a hurt look. "I'm sorry, Sang," he says. "But you gotta admit, it was funny."
I imagine him and Trish in each other's arms, laughing, in bed. Player.
I fill my lungs with air and plunge into the water. Trish's laughter is muted. The world is silent except for water sloshing in my ears. If you're crying, but you're underwater, does it still count? Cameron's blue guard trunks are billowing in the water in front of me.
Out of air, I spring up out of the water. I gasp and push my hair from my face.
"Sang, you finally did it," Cameron says.
I climb out of the pool.
"Where are you off to?" he says.
I snatch a yellow promotion card from the table.
"Good riddance," Trish says.
I grab my towel and leave the pool area.
"Hey, where's my best student going?" Cameron calls.
I pick up my pace to cross the park. I step onto the parking lot, its gravel biting into my bare feet.
"You aren't mad are you?" he says, now at my side.
I stop and rest one foot on top of the other. "What do you want?"
"What?"
"From me?" I say, wrapping my towel around my waist.
"Nothing. I don't get why you're so mad."
I tuck my wet hair behind my ears. "I can't believe you told her about that nose thing. That was between you and me, like other things that were just between us. You know, Trish told me your date with me was just a joke. That you laughed about it later, and... I didn't believe her. Until now." Tears sting my eyes.
"Sang, I'm sorry," he says, taking my hand. "It wasn't like that at all. I'm such an idiot. Trish and I spend hours and hours here guarding. After a while, I guess I run out of things to talk about, you know? That's all."
I pull my hand away. "So you both sit and laugh about me? Then you take her to bed?"
"What? Who told you that?"
"Who do you think?"
"Trish." Cameron runs his fingers through his hair. "Sang, what can I say? It's not like that at all."
"What is it like?"
"It's like this." He brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek and presses his warm lips there.
I feel like I'm filled with boiling water.
"You never slept with her?"
"No." He kisses me again. "And I'll talk with her about all this, okay?"
Be brave. Take the plunge. "Cameron, there's this party," I say in a rush. "It's next Friday. It's dressy. Semi-formal. A birthday party." Inner cringe. Why did I say that? It's like I'm asking him to a kiddy thing with balloons. Feeling defeated, I mumble, "I thought, maybe, you might come with me."
"Sang, I have to go back to campus next weekend." He rubs his neck.
"You're going? So soon? What about that paper you sent your professor?"
He shakes his head. "No luck."
"Oh."
"I'm going on Saturday. But you're talking Friday night, right? No, wait. I think I have a thing then."
"Sure. A thing." The hot water that filled me a minute ago turns to ice. I shiver and wrap my towel around my shoulders. If only I could pull it over my head and disappear. "No problem." I mince over the sharp gravel back toward the pool complex.
"Sang, hold on. What time's the party?" he says, suddenly by my side again. When I tell him six, he says, "Well that's cool, then. My thing's not until much later."
"Really?"
"I don't need to rent a tux or anything, do I?"
"Just wear a tie. And a jacket."
"Yeah. I can do that. I want to go."
Miracle.
"Just twenty-five bucks. It's the last time I'll ask."
"But you haven't paid me anything back yet. I wanted to fill this up for Mom and Dad." Doodles pulls the lid off the glass cookie jar and peers inside. "How am I supposed to do that if you keep emptying it out?"
"I told you I'd pay you as soon as Mrs. Schnapps pays me. I need to get a present for Anna's birthday. The party is in one week. You don't want me to show up without a present for her."
"Why don't you make her something?" Doodles slides the jar onto her bookshelf.
"Yeah, right. I'm sure she'd really appreciate a bunch of construction paper bookmarks."
"Hey," Doodles says, tightly crossing her arms. "That's what I gave you for Christmas."
Crap. "And I love them. I use them all the time. But that's a sister present, you know? Please, Doodles."
"Well," she says, her arms loosening, "on one condition. You have to help me with my yard sale. It's my newest business. Help me find stuff and set it up. I'm having it tomorrow morning."
"Fine." I go for the jar.
"And you have to pay me back."
"No duh." I spill out the money onto her bed and count out twenty-five dollars' worth of ones and quarters. I scoop the balance back into the jar. It really doesn't leave much.
"We can start by making signs right now," Doodles says. She pulls a box of markers from under her bed. "I'll get the poster board from the basement. You wait here."
"Actually, I have to run out. But we can do it later."
She kicks the marker box back under the bed. "But the yard sale is tomorrow."
"I know. Tonight, okay? Right after dinner. I promise."
I load my purse with the bills and quarters, and Raina and I walk into town in search of a birthday present for Anna. Later, when Cameron is on his dinner break during his evening shift at the pool, he's going to meet me for a little while. Every moment with him counts.
I hate to admit it, but each time we pass a side street or turn a corner, I hesitate, half expecting Trish and Liselle to jump out and attack. We wander through the usual shops: A Special Gift, Poor Richards. Nothing seems to click. I'm looking at some cute stationery in the Doylestown Bookshop when Raina says, "You don't think Gary will mind going with me?"
"To the party? He asked you, didn't he?" For a moment I wonder if he tried to ask Michelle.
Raina nods. "I just wonder..."
I set down the stationery. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Only, did you make him ask me?"
"No. I didn't even know he was going to. He did that on his own."
She wrings her hands. "I am just a little nervous. This is America. Everything is so different. I don't want to embarrass you."
"How can you possibly embarrass me? Raina, just look at you. You are coolness itself."
She rolls her eyes.
We decide to visit Hari at Coffee & Cream. When we push open the door, it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine to the dimness of the coffee shop. The place is empty. There isn't even anyone behind the counter.
"Hello?" I call out. Nothing. I shrug and we're about to go when I hear something tumble in the back of the store. Hari bursts through the door behind the counter, tying his blue apron. His hair is all messed up. "Sorry," he says as he rushes to the sink. "Be with you in a minute."
I raise my eyebrows at Raina while Hari washes his hands and dries them with a towel. He turns. "Oh. It's you."
"What happened to you?" I say.
"Nothing. Why?" He leans his hands on the counter, trying to look casual.
"Well, for one thing," I say, "your hair." Raina smiles.
"Crap." Hari looks at his reflection in a giant copper coffee urn, fixing his hair with his fingers. "I can't work like this. I can't." He goes to the sink and lathers up his hands again. Again dries them with the towel. "She's crazy," he whispers and points to the back room.
"Michelle?"
"Shhh," he whispers. "She's all over me. She's talking about our future and it's creeping me out."
"She likes you."
"Like a stalker."
"You must be into her. You two keep going out."
He raises an eyebrow. "It's summer, Sang. Nobody's supposed to take anything seriously in the summer." He sighs. "Anyway, what can I get you guys?"
"Anything that's free?" I say and smile sweetly.
Michelle saunters out of the back room, wearing her usual khaki T-shirt and camouflage pants beneath her blue apron. She's adjusting her wavy brown hair and looking pretty pleased with herself. "Hey, Sang."
When I introduce Raina to her, Michelle says, "Glad to meet you. We're practically family now, right?" She walks behind Hari and he jumps, nearly spilling the two cups he's about to hand us.
After this, Raina and I walk over to Twenty East Limited, the most amazing used jewelry store ever. We pick out a vintage charm bracelet for Anna, with hearts and pianos and musical keys hanging from it---she loves playing piano, so hopefully she'll love this gift. When we leave the shop, I suck in my breath. Across the street, Trish's sidekick Liselle sits in a black Beetle convertible. Beside her is David Jovanovich. Liselle catches sight of me, leans over and kisses David smack on the lips, and zooms away.
\*\*\*\*\*
"How much are these?" a woman asks, holding up a paper cup full of assorted markers. It's Saturday morning and I'm helping Doodles with her little yard sale.
"A nickel each," I say. "Poopsie, give me that." I try to take away a little stuffed cat she's gnawing on and she growls. "Fine. Keep it then." Satisfied, Poopsie settles in the shade under the card table with the toy.
"The markers are a dollar," Doodles says. "A dollar each."
"No one's going to pay a dollar for an old marker," I say.
"How do you know? Maybe they're the exact markers this lady's looking for."
We both look up, but the lady is gone. "You scared her away," Doodles says.
"Your prices scared her away. That, and your great selection." Our driveway has a sheet spread on it with a few teddy bears that were too ugly for even Doodles to love, a beat-up old pair of her roller blades, and a waffle maker Mom once got from Grandma for Christmas.
We're sitting on white plastic chairs behind the wobbly card table---what Doodles calls the 'money counter.' On the table is a shoebox holding a few quarters and a dollar. "Well, Doodles, looks like you should go back to the ice-pop business."
Nobody comes. I lean my chin on my fist and think about meeting Cameron yesterday during his dinner break. After shopping in town with Raina, she headed home while I waited for him on the corner. He zoomed up in his Mustang exactly on time and whisked me over to Nat's Pizza. We shared some pizza (he ate most of it), and the whole time he sat beside me with his arm around my shoulders for all the world to see. We talked as if we were the only ones there. "I can't believe you're going away," I said. He gave me a heartbreaking look and kissed my cheek.
I wanted to say: Don't go. Tell me you'll come back to me. Tell me this is real to you too.
But I didn't.
"Hey." Doodles nudges me. "A customer."
"Megan?" I say. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping." Poopsie wags her tail and scratches at Megan's knee. "Hey there, cutie," Megan says. She rubs the dog's ears and picks up the waffle maker. "Will you take ten for this thing?"
At the same time that Doodles says no, I say yes. "But I marked it forty-five," Doodles complains.
"We'll definitely take ten," I say.
Megan hands Doodles a twenty.
"Sorry. I don't have change."
"Go inside and get some, goofball," I say.
"Goofball is not a very nice term," Megan says.
"Yeah, well, I'm not a very nice person."
Doodles nods. "You got that right."
I glare at her and she goes inside. Megan shifts from foot to foot. I study my cuticles. "So," I say, unable to take silence anymore. "You like waffles."
"Not really."
"Interesting."
She sets the box down. "Look, Sang, I want to say something to you and I'm just going to say it."
I lace together my fingers. "I'm listening."
"You hear something like this and you know it can't be true. Right? It can't." She starts pacing around the driveway. "How can it be? When everything is so perfect. When you've been nothing but sincere and kind. What could I believe? It came right out of the blue." Megan picks up a stuffed turtle with a squashed face. "There's only one explanation. Lies."
"So that's what you came to say?"
Megan sets the stuffed animal on the table. "David is like this turtle. I know he's a little different. Some people say strange. Okay. Everybody says strange. But that's what made him so perfect to me, you know? I thought I was special to see past all that and see the real him. And that's partly why I couldn't believe he would ever cheat on me. Who would he cheat with?"
Megan picks up the turtle and does this dry sob. "He didn't even deny it. Can you believe that? I mean, I go to the library to get some guidebooks on Europe, and right there at the entrance are David and Liselle. And she's acting flirty and hanging on his arm, you know?"
"I'm so sorry, Megan."
"So I say to him, 'What's this?' And he says, 'I guess I'm busted.' Busted. Like I'm the police or something." She drops the stuffed turtle onto the drive. Poopsie nabs it and drags it into her lair. "This was supposed to be a surprise. That's what he said, Sang. A surprise. Can you believe it? Like, surprise! I'm cheating on you, you lucky girl. He said he didn't want me to find out until Anna's party."
"Why?"
"He must be taking her. What else can it be? Sang, you were right about him. David is strange and odd and it turns out he's mean too."
"Oh, Megan. I don't know what to say."
"When you told me about David, I hated you. I should have hated him." Her eyes fill. "Oh, Sang. Can you ever forgive me?"
I stand and take her hand. "Megan, I can do better than that."
\*\*\*\*\*
"So I was wondering if you've got a friend that she can go with. Someone really nice and nice looking," I say looking up at Cameron, who is high atop the lifeguard stand. He's like a Roman god on a throne. For a second I picture him wrapped in a toga with golden leaves woven in his hair. In his hand, instead of a whistle, is a sizzling thunderbolt.
"I don't know," he says, scanning the water, looking cool in his shades. "It's going to be tough. Most guys are busy on a Friday night."
"Early Friday night, remember? Please?"
Cameron looks down at me, and I see myself, with a big cheesy smile, reflected in his sunglasses. "What's wrong with her?" he says.
"Nothing." I give a nervous laugh. "See? She's right over there." I point to Megan, who's wearing her polka-dot bikini and sitting on the edge of a lounge chair at the opposite side of the pool. She gives a cheerful wave.
Cameron lowers his glasses and squints at her. "Okay. I'll see what I can do."
Megan starts walking around the pool toward us.
"So you promise?" I say, fast. "I can count on you?"
"Sure, why not?" He pushes his sunglasses back up, blows his whistle, and points to two boys wrestling in the water. "Hey, knock it off."
"Thanks, Cameron," I say.
"Sure thing." He swings his whistle and grins.
I hurry to Megan, heading her off midway. "We're set." I grab her arm and pull her back toward the lounge chairs.
"OOOOOO! Is my date older and luscious like your man over there?"
"Of course." I hope.
"I want to meet Cameron," Megan says, pulling me back toward him.
I drag her to a halt. "You think that's wise?"
"Why not?"
I can't think of a tactful answer.
"So come on." She scurries to his stand. "Hello there," Megan says. "Cam the man. Woo. It is way too hot hot hot." She fans herself and mumbles, "At least somebody is."
I elbow her. "Cameron, this is Megan."
Cameron glances down. "Hey."
"Wow. Your legs are really hairy," Megan says. "Not that that's a bad thing. Unless you are a girl."
He takes off his sunglasses and stares.
"Big kidder," I say.
"I'm not saying you are a girl," Megan says. "You are so not a girl. Look at you. Those muscles. That chest. And girls can't have their boobs hanging out like that. Not that your boobs are like a girl's. Not that they're hanging out. Not that you have boobs."
"Megan!" I say.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. He's just..." She covers her mouth, turns on her heel and marches away.
"Isn't she great?" I say, sounding cheerful.
"Great." He scans the pool. "I know just the guy for her."
"Cameron, please. Nobody weird."
"Stan's cool."
"Stanley? His name is Stanley?"
He puts his shades back on and says, "Don't you trust me?"
"Sure. It's just---"
"Look, I get out of here around seven tonight. How 'bout I see if he's around and we pick you both up and hang out for a while? That way you get to check him out and I get some more Sang time."
I want to spend every moment that I can with him. But how will I sneak out with Megan and two college guys in a Mustang? How will I avoid Mom and Dad and even Hari without Cameron and his friend figuring out that I'm so lame I actually have to sneak around to see them?
"Just give me your cell and we'll work out the details," he says.
I don't even have a cell.
"Sound okay, babe?" he says.
I hang onto the lifeguard stand for strength. "Yeah. Okay."
"But it's Saturday night. I feel bad ditching you," I say. I'm standing in front of my mirror wondering what to do with my hair. Down, like always? Up in a ponytail like always? I study the scratches on my face. They're healing pretty fast.
"No no," Raina says. "Not at all. I'll hang out with Hari and Doodles and catch up on my emails. I haven't been chatting with anyone since---well, you know."
I nod. "Are you holding up okay?"
"I am absolutely fine." She turns on my computer. "What about you? Are you ready for the big double date?"
"Never ready," I say, sucking in my cheekbones and applying blush.
The phone rings. "Got it!" I chuck the blush brush and dive for the phone.
"Hello?" I say at the same time as my dad on the extension downstairs.
"Is Doodles there, please? This is Bethany."
"I'll get her," my dad says.
I click the phone off. "How am I supposed to get Cameron's call if my Dad keeps hovering over the phone? He's terrified that the call is going to be from Seattle and one of us will find out something is up."
"He's protecting you, is all." Raina taps away on the keyboard. "Good intentions."
"Like your parents."
She stops typing.
"What makes them think they know exactly what's right for you, anyway?" I say. "Why can't they just trust your judgment? I mean, so someone is a different religion, or is older. That doesn't mean he can't be perfect for you."
I pull my hair into a bun, but I look way too much like my mom, so I immediately pull it out. "If my parents weren't so uptight, I would definitely have Cameron meet them. I wouldn't have to go sneaking around. When you think about it, it's really their fault we lie to them. What choice do we have?"
Raina doesn't respond. She's staring at the computer screen. I step behind her and read her email listings over her shoulder. The very first one reads: PATEL ENGAGEMENT PIX.
"Who sent those to you?" I say, really furious. "I'll kill them myself, Raina. I swear."
"He did. Sanjay sent them." Her head sways from side to side. "My God. This is too much." She bites her lip and bolts from the room. The bathroom door slams.
I stand there, floored. How could this wonderful guy she was so in love with be so callous? "Jackass," I say, erasing the email.
The phone rings. "Got it!" I shout.
"Hello?" my dad says.
"Is Sang there?" Cameron says.
"I got it, Dad," I say.
"Who is calling please?" Dad says.
"Dad, I'm here. I got it."
"Who is calling?" he persists.
"This is Cameron."
"The lifeguard who kissed my daughter?"
"Dad!"
"Yes, sir."
I hang up, race down the steps, and find Dad on the phone in the kitchen.
"Well, sir," Dad is saying, "how is it that you're kissing my daughter, yet I've never met you? A gentleman meets the father first. Or aren't you a gentleman?"
I tug on the sleeve of my dad's T-shirt. "Dad. Please stop. You're embarrassing me."
He holds up his hand to me. "Tonight? You and Sang are going out tonight." He gives me a cold look. "How very interesting."
Groan. Busted.
"Sure, I'll be here. Absolutely. Hold on." He hands me the phone. "It's for you."
I stare sharp daggers at him. "Cameron? I'm so so sorry about that."
"No. It's cool. Guess I'm not picking you up at the neighbor's house tonight?"
"Um." My mind is racing. I try to picture how it will go. Cameron will pull up in his Mustang. Strike one. He'll meet my dad, who will see he is older than me. Strike two. Dad will ask Cameron absolutely mortifying questions, and Cameron will know then and there that I am not worth the hassle. Strike three, and you're never going out! "You can come to my house, I guess." Why can't I think of another way? There has to be one. "Or we could just forget it." Yes! Better to skip this horrible experience altogether.
"Nah. It's cool. Dads don't scare me."
I glance at Dad, who is waiting for me by the door of the kitchen. "Lucky you."
\*\*\*\*\*
"I suppose I should thank you for saving my daughter's life," Dad says.
"My pleasure," Cameron says.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dad asks.
"Dad," I say.
"Cookie?" Mom says, handing a plate of store-bought chocolate chip cookies to Cameron. He takes a cookie and a crumb falls to the ground. I see my mom staring at the crumb, and know she is fighting the urge to pick it up.
Poor Cameron. I can tell he's gone through some effort to look extra neat. His hair is still damp from a shower, and even from my seat across from the couch I can smell his spicy cologne. He must really care about me. Why else would he sit sandwiched between two staring parents if he doesn't like me? But will any of this matter if my dad doesn't like him?
I remind myself about what Raina said. If things get really negative, I should do what she always did with her parents: nod, smile and pretend to agree with everything they say. Act like I'm the all-dutiful daughter. Then I can sneak off and do what I want.
"So," Dad says, looking Cameron up and down, "what year are you in school?"
I seriously think I'm going to scream. I grab a cookie from the plate and fill my mouth.
"I'm a junior, Mr. Jumnal."
I finish the cookie and grab another.
"Hmm. A bit young, especially to be driving. Such a flashy car, too. Do you go very fast in it?"
"Oh, yeah." Cameron's eye's light up. "She's really sweet. I've taken her up to---"
"Hu-hum!" I clear my throat and shake my head.
"I mean," he says, "I'm a very careful driver. Never gotten in an accident or gotten a ticket."
I take one more cookie and munch.
"Doesn't that sound responsible, Akash?" Mom says.
I love you, Mom!
"Hmm. What about your future and college?"
"Dad," I say, "not everybody has their whole lives planned out. I don't see what this has to do with anything."
"No, it's cool," Cameron says. "I go to the University of Maryland---undecided major."
"You mean, you plan to go there," Dad says.
Oh God. Here it comes. Another cookie goes in my mouth.
"No, sir. I'm a junior there now."
"WHAT? I thought you said you were a junior in high school."
"Cookie?" Mom says, offering Cameron the now-empty plate with a shaking hand.
I wipe crumbs from my chin. It's like watching an accident in progress. I can't bear to look, yet I can't turn away.
"So that makes you how old?" Dad asks.
"I'm twenty, Mr. Jumnal."
"TWENTY!" Dad springs to his feet.
We all stand.
"Dad. Chill out. It's no big deal."
Mom is fanning herself with a napkin, muttering, "Twenty. Twenty?"
"He's just turned twenty," I offer.
"Oh." Mom blots her forehead. "Still, Sang never mentioned..."
"You never asked," I say.
"Twenty and in college." Mom stares at the empty plate. "My."
"My, indeed," Dad says, crossing his arms.
I catch Mom's eye and give her a pleading look.
"Still, Akash," she says, setting the plate down, "he does seem like a lovely boy."
"Thank you, Mrs. Jumnal," Cameron says sweetly.
Dad takes a few deep breaths.
I hold mine.
"Well," Dad says at last, "I appreciate you coming." He holds out his hand to Cameron.
I exhale as they shake. Cameron's approved! "I'll just get my purse, then."
"No. You're not going with this young man."
"Dad, you can't be serious."
"He is too old for you, Sangeet. You're only sixteen. There are laws about such things."
"I'll be seventeen in like a month."
"Sang," Mom says, "be reasonable."
Dad nods. "You're too young."
"Stop saying that. You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you are going straight to your room right now."
Cameron gives me a pained expression.
I can't bear this. I can't.
I sprint to my room and stand there, fists clenched. I force myself not to scream---not to kick my wall or smash my mirror.
Downstairs, I hear the front door close. Outside I hear Cameron's engine rev. He's probably driving straight to Trish's where there are no parents and no sixteen-year-old children to deal with.
I look at brave Jake Gyllenhaal.
And grab my purse.
\*\*\*\*\*
"But the best part is when he stood up to be intimidating," Cameron says. "And I'm like six inches taller." He laughs and rests his large hand on my thigh.
I give him a quick smile and glance yet again toward the door. I fully expect at any second that my short yet very intimidating father will burst into Applebee's, knock over the cheerful hostess, wrestle me from the booth, and drag me by the hair out the door. From there, he will drive directly to the airport and set me on a plane to India, where I will enroll in an all-girls' school and never see another male ever again. Not too far-fetched considering what he was screaming at me as I ran out the door to Cameron's car.
I can't believe I've defied him like this. I should be proud of myself. I should be having the time of my life. Actually, I should have listened to Raina.
Cameron squeezes my thigh. I jump.
Stan says, "Dude, why'd her father hassle you like that? That's so not cool." He picks at the platter of deep fried appetizers on our table. Good thing the guys offered to pay tonight. I'm broke.
"It's paternal instinct," Megan says, "coupled with a deep sense of threat from an outside male. That's my guess." She takes a gulp of her water.
"Hey," Stan says, "you're like all smart or something, aren't you? That's way cool. Not like my man Cam here, right?"
Cameron gives Stan a look.
Stan is so unlike David. He's muscular because he's a wrestler like Cameron. They used to wrestle on the high school team together. He's a little on the short side, but nice looking with a constant grin and tousled bleached-out blond hair. Truthfully, he doesn't seem too bright. But Megan doesn't seem to care.
"Actually, I'm feeling way hot hot hot," Megan says, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Maybe, like, it's the Buffalo wings."
"You're a Buffalo wing," Megan says and pokes at his bulging arm muscle.
"Huh?" He looks at his arm.
Megan says, "Manly Stan, with the really nice can." She claps a hand to her mouth.
I expect Manly Stanley to make a run for it. Instead he scoots closer to her and says, "You really think I got a nice can?"
"I wouldn't know," Megan says, trying to act indifferent. "Seen one firm tush, seen 'em all. Not that I've seen all the firm tushes. Or any. Not that your tush isn't firm. I'm sure it is. I mean, I imagine it is, because, well, look at you. Not that I'm imagining your tush. Okay. Now I am." She covers her eyes. "Oh God. I'm sorry."
"Naw. That's cool," Stan says, grabbing an egg roll.
"See?" Cameron whispers in my ear. "I told you everything would work out." He nibbles on my ear, but my eyes stay on that front entrance.
"Megan's always like that around guys," I tell Cameron. "She can't help it. Oh, just pull in right here." I point to Mrs. Schnapps'.
He sighs but pulls into the drive.
"I just have to let Poopsie out before I go home."
Cameron parks and shuts off the engine and headlights. Moonlight streams into the car windows and the engine ticks like there's a bomb waiting to explode. My eyes dart around Mrs. Schnapps' property, as if Dad might be lurking in her bushes.
"Sang," Cameron says, "if your Dad isn't cool with us, things can get pretty complicated. It can be hard for anything to work out..."
Oh God. He's going to go back to college next weekend. And I'm going to lose him. If only we had more time.
"Hey, don't look so sad," he says, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. "I can't stand to ever see you sad. Maybe it's best that I'm going away."
"Don't say that." I get closer. His face glows with cool moonlight. He is so handsome. So strong. So wonderful. I practically ache. We kiss, and I lean my head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around me. I want to forget everything else and stay like this forever.
"Cameron," I say, "I have to tell you something." I think about my dad, about Taoji, about Raina and Sanjay, and about so many other things I should tell him about me and my life. But I don't know.
"What is it, babe?" He rubs my shoulder. He's my savior. My prince.
I love you.
Three magical words said in the moonlight and my entire world changes. Suddenly everything is safe and wonderful because I truly belong to him now.
He takes my hand. "Sang, I love you too."
"Really?"
"Can't you tell? This is what I've been hoping for. What I've been afraid I'd never hear. I'll come home from college every weekend. I'll be by your side as much as I can. I promise."
What could be more perfect?
Except it's not perfect because I don't say it. How can I when I'm just starting to fall for him? When I'm not sure if he loves me? And how can this ever work out between us? The age thing. The Dad thing. The Trish thing. The going away thing. It all feels so overwhelming. "I'd better go take care of the dog."
We kiss, and I pour all my emotion into it. Like this is our last kiss ever.
"Why don't I come in with you?" he says, his breath on my neck. "For a little while."
Suddenly I feel completely breathless. Don't think, I tell myself. And don't be afraid.
At the front door, I fumble with Mrs. Schnapps' key, desperately trying to open the door. Poopsie yips and scratches at the door. Cameron runs his hot tongue along my neck, passing over the chain of my necklace. I feel aglow, then realize he and I are surrounded with white light. It's because of headlights in the driveway from a vehicle that's just pulled in. Cameron and I separate and stand squinting into the brightness.
"Yoo-hoo." Mrs. Schnapps waves as the van driver sets several suitcases down at her feet. Mrs. Schnapps is short and round, and always wears a matching dress, high heels, and hat. Tonight her color is deep red. The van pulls away. "I'm back at last," she says, her heels clicking on the drive. "I had such a glorious trip. El Hambra, the sound of the castanets, the taste of Sangria still on my lips. Oh, you must go some day." She looks up at Cameron. "Who is this handsome fellow?"
I introduce them. While he hoists all three of her suitcases at once, she pulls her keys from her matching red clutch. "And how is my little Poopsie? No bother, I trust?"
"None at all." Aside from a few messes and a near death experience. "She's really cute."
"Oh, I know." She opens the lock and Poopsie explodes out the door and jumps into Mrs. Schnapps' arms. "My baby. How could Mommy ever leave you? Oh, never again."
Cameron carries the bags into the house and sets them in the foyer.
"Thank you, dear," she says and tries to hand him a twenty.
"No." He holds up his hand. "It's my pleasure."
"Well, Sang, let me pay you at least." She pulls out a stack of bills and thumbs through them. "No, these are Euros. Let me see. Here you go." She presses a wad of bills into my hand and I give her the key. I also give Poopsie a special pat. "I'm gonna miss her. Mrs. Schnapps, would you mind if I visit her once in a while? Take her for a walk or something?"
"Anytime, Sang. She's a good little friend. Aren't you?" Mrs. Schnapps picks up her dog. "Oh yes you are. Oh yes you are."
Back out on the driveway, Cameron and I stand by his car. I should be wild like Trish. Say to hell with everything, jump in his car and just let him take me away.
He shrugs. "Guess I'd better go." I nod. He pecks me on the cheek and gets in his car. And rides off in his Mustang into the moonlight.
Idiot. Why am I not in that car with him?
Maybe, instead of going home, I could walk to Megan's. It would only take around twenty minutes, and then I could hang out there for a while. I wish I could live there. Become Sang Chung. Wasn't that some eighties tune? Everybody Sang Chung tonight? I count the money Mrs. Schnapps gave me: $200. Enough to run away with? Somehow I don't think so.
I start walking, but not to Megan's. I stop at my own driveway. I've got to slip inside and sneak up to my bed, avoiding Dad at all costs. The lights are on in the family room on the ground floor. He's probably sitting there---waiting.
The Sang Chung idea is sounding better and better. But you know what? I've got to do this. Go in the house and stand up for myself. Just because Dad's hung up on the fact that Cameron is older doesn't mean my going out with him is wrong.
Okay. I'm facing this...after I sneak up to my room. I'll face it in the morning...if Dad brings it up.
I turn the knob of the front door and push, expecting one of those horror movie creaking sounds, but luckily there's nothing. To the left of the entryway is the family room. No one there. Excellent. I gently press the door shut behind me and tiptoe up the short flight of steps to the main level where the living room, dining room and kitchen are, along with the stairs leading to the bedrooms.
A light is on in the kitchen. I freeze. Dad's in there talking to someone on the phone.
"This is terrible," he is saying. "What a nightmare. But what can I do?"
Perfect. Now I can definitely make it up to my room without a hassle. I head to the stairs.
"Ha. Ha-ji. Absolutely. I can make the air arrangements when needed."
My foot is on the bottom step when I hear this. He can't be serious. He can't really think he's going to ship me off to India. I won't go. He can't make me go. Can he? I strain to listen, but Dad is just saying, "Ha-ji. Ha-ji. I know," a bunch of times.
I race up into my dark room and my foot snags on some clothes on the floor. I trip and slam my shin yet again into Raina's cot. A jolt of pain pierces my leg and I bite my lip.
Raina sits up and rubs her eyes.
"It's me," I whisper, rubbing my shin. "Shh. Don't say a word." I feel my way around the edge of her bed and pick up my cordless. I cover the mouthpiece and click it on.
Taiji Parveen is talking in Punjabi to my dad. God, I have got to learn this language. Before I can hand the phone to Raina so she can listen in and interpret for me, Taiji breaks into English, saying, "And I don't know what else to do. I try to be strong. Try not to cry. Smile until my teeth ache."
"You are doing all you can. Ravinder knows you are there," Dad says.
I sit on my bed.
"But you don't understand. I can't do this anymore." She sobs. "I can't sit there and watch what they are doing to him. This is supposed to save him but they are killing him. You don't see what I see. He is suffering: in pain; vomiting; constantly having loose motions. We can't change the sheets fast enough," she says and breaks into more Punjabi.
I click off the phone and swallow hard. God, I'm such a self-centered jerk.
A soft breeze blows through my screens. Squares of moonlight shine through the windows and onto our beds. Raina props her head on her hand. "What is it?"
"Nothing." I lie back and stare into the night. "And everything."
"So why are we all holy again?" Doodles asks.
Mom holds her finger to her lips. We stand as the priest offers the final blessing to the congregation. I look down the pew at my family: a line of occasional Catholics plus two Sikhs. We're neatly dressed. Mom wears a sundress. Doodles, Raina and I wear skirts and sandals. Dad and Hari are in tan pants and nice shirts.
My dad is on the opposite end of the pew, his head bowed and eyes closed. This morning I was set for a fight, but he hasn't even looked at me yet. Raina is standing beside him, her hands folded in front of her like a perfect good girl.
I think about the money Mrs. Schnapps gave me. About how I stuffed it in my night table drawer. About how maybe I should have put it into Doodles's jar. But what difference would that ever make?
I clasp my hands together and pray for Taoji. Pray that they aren't killing him but saving him. At least that's something I can do for him. But it doesn't feel like enough, and I'm afraid I'm not very good at it anyway. Not intense enough or spiritual enough for any higher being---Catholic, Sikh, or otherwise---to hear me.
The priest raises his hands high. "Go in peace. Amen."
"Amen," we all say. The organ music swells and the priest and altar boys parade down the aisle. As soon as the priest passes, the churchgoers pour out of the pews on their way to a busy day of brunches and yard work and softball games.
When we hit the sidewalk, Doodles says, "Now will somebody tell me why we're so holy?"
Mom smoothes Doodles's tangled hair. "Because it's the right thing to do, sweetie."
"Then why wasn't it right last week?"
"That was a lovely service," Raina says to me. "What was that thing you all ate?"
"Jesus' body," Hari says, passing us.
"Oh?" Raina says.
"Don't ask," I say. "It's complicated." I glance behind me. "Crap. Here comes my dad."
"Don't panic," Raina says. "And above all don't argue. Just nod and look really sorry and agree with everything."
"I'll try."
Dad taps me on the shoulder. "We need to discuss something," he says. "Raina, will you excuse us for a minute?"
"Of course, Uncle-ji," she says, ever smiling, ever dutiful---at least on the surface. She joins the others that have gone on ahead of us.
Dad gives me a grim look. My throat becomes dry.
"So," he says, as he and I walk. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
I shake my head, because really, what can I say? Stop threatening to ship me off to India? Like he'd listen to that. I'm glad I went out last night? He'd kill me. I'm falling in love with Cameron? I'd rather die. Besides, according to Raina, the best thing to say is nothing.
"Then on to the punishment phase," he says. "Grounded for one week. During this time, since your mother will be working, you will be responsible for your little sister."
I picture a grueling week of ice pop sales. Great. "But can I go to Anna's party on Friday?"
"I don't know. We'll see. It is very much dependent on your behavior."
I nod. I can deal with this. And I don't want to fight with my dad. Not now when he must be hurting so much over Taoji.
"Also," Dad says, "no seeing or speaking to that Cameron fellow anymore."
"Ever?"
"Would you rather I sent you to school in India?"
What he's trying to make me do---never see Cameron again---is worse than any Indian school ever could be. I might as well be in an all-girls' school in the wilds of India, or in a nunnery if I can't see him. "But Cameron's taking me to the party."
"Not anymore."
I should nod and keep my mouth shut. But suddenly I feel the full weight of how very much Cameron's come to mean to me. "No," I say. "Dad, this is too important to me."
We both stop moving.
I'm momentarily terrified of him. Of myself.
I back away from him. "I won't listen to you."
"Get back here right now, young lady," he says in his sternest voice.
"No," I say, my voice barely a whisper. I race away, my sandals slapping the pavement. I run and run and run even though I don't hear him following me. I don't slow down until I'm well into the Doylestown Cemetery. Even then, I continue walking up and down the paved drives between fields of headstones, my mind racing. Why did I have to talk to him like that? Now there's no way I'm going to Anna's birthday with or without Cameron. Why can't I be like Raina and just keep my mouth shut?
I walk on the grass between the stones themselves. Now and then, an inscription catches my eye.
'Let us linger here awhile in the foolishness of things.'
'Forever we will hold his love and his life in our hearts.'
'We miss you, Dad.'
Feeling like I've been walking forever, I sink onto a white stone bench. I'm surrounded by death, and the dead are trying to pass on wisdom from the great beyond. But what good does it do anybody? We all change, grow old, and die. No one can stop that. Not even my father.
I hear a rustle of paper behind me and turn to find Dalton holding his lunch bag, looking annoyed.
"I'm sorry," I say and stand. "I'll go."
He sits on the bench and unwraps his sandwich.
I stand next to him while he eats half of it. Then I sit beside him.
It's weird, but this feels like the most natural thing in the world. We're both quiet for a long, long time until I say, "My uncle is dying."
Dalton sets his lemonade on the bench. "You want to talk about it?"
And for the first time, I really do.
"Dad, I'm so sorry." I hang my head. I am saying this because, while talking with Dalton, I figured out a few things.
Dalton and I were sitting in the graveyard, and I was telling him about Taoji hanging at the very edge of life and death. All around us were headstones, and facing us was a stone that read, "No one knows his own measure of time." That's when it hit me. Really hit me. We are all on the edge. Who knows who will be next?
Walking home from talking with Dalton, I did a lot of thinking. Especially about Taoji. He is always so sure of me. So confident that I will become someone extraordinary. I want to become that person for him. Someone who sets goals and achieves them. Someone who believes in herself and is courageous. Someone who is even brave enough to listen to her own heart...
Expect Great Things!
And then my thoughts turned to Cameron. Cameron sitting in my living room with my parents, being so sweet and polite. Cameron defending me against Trish. Cameron saving my life. And then me, standing by Cameron's car at Mrs. Schnapps' house, letting him just drive away. Me, always standing passively along the sidelines while precious time is running out.
So now I am standing in the living room in front of my father, sucking up big time. I have to pretend to be the dutiful daughter and make it seem like I am not going to see Cameron anymore.
You can do anything you want to.
I can't just let my parents come between us like Raina's parents came between her and Sanjay. Honesty doesn't work here. My dad's plans for my future aren't mine. My parents don't know my heart. It is my life and mine alone. For once, I'm filled with resolve. For once, I'm determined to be braver than I ever thought I'd dare. Cameron has to learn my true feelings for him before he goes and it's too late.
Grow up and make your Taoji so so proud.
"Dad, it won't happen again." I look up at my dad and brace myself, expecting him to scream. At the very least he'll give me a guilt-filled lecture.
But what he does is worse. Much worse.
Dad sinks onto the couch, covers his eyes with his hands, and starts to cry.
I've never seen him cry. Never. Just like that, my resolve about Cameron starts to crumble. "Dad, I'm so sorry," I say, and this time I mean it. I touch his arm. "I never meant---"
He jerks away from my hand. "Go to your room."
I stand frozen for a moment, watching his shoulders shake, feeling shaken myself. Then I obey. In my room Raina sits, looking like she, too, is disgusted with me and about to cry.
"Don't look at me like that." I kick off my sandals and kick away some of her clothes. "I tried to listen to your advice, but he makes it so difficult." I start pushing away Raina's cosmetics and rearranging my own perfume and cream bottles on my dresser. Raina just glares. I say, "Anyway, what are you mad about? You'll still get to go to the party with Gary, even if I end up locked here in the royal tower."
When she slowly shakes her head as if I'm a huge disappointment, something in me snaps. "Oh, give me a break," I say and yank off my "Expect Great Things!" necklace, snapping the chain, and toss it onto my dresser. In my mirror I see a fresh line of zits growing by my hairline. I pick up my brush, redo my part, and sweep hair over the offending pimples. "You know what? You aren't so perfect yourself." I brush my hair vigorously, making it crackle with static. "Sure, you pretend to be wonderful and obedient. But you're just an actress."
"Sang."
"Like from one of those tacky Bollywood movies. You pretend you are so much better than me. You act like you are the most wonderful girl in the world, but you're nothing but a big phony. No wonder your boyfriend ran off with---"
"Sangeet Jumnal," she says in a nasty voice. "While you were out, Mummy called. Taoji has taken a turn for the worse. The doctors are not sure if he is going to make it through the night. That is why I am so upset. As you Americans put it: Get over yourself."
I set down the brush. And I look in the mirror. A horrible version of myself stares back, mouth open.
I grab my necklace and race out of the room, down the steps, and into the backyard. I hug the necklace tightly to my chest.
Taoji. Taoji on the edge. And nothing in this entire world I can do will save him.
\*\*\*\*\*
I straighten my bed and tidy my drawers. I put some of Raina's clothes in neat piles beside her suitcase and clean the mirrors in the bathrooms and bedrooms. I play Chutes and Ladders with Doodles and let her win twice. I even clear the dinner dishes without being asked.
I've never felt so useless.
Raina is being coolly polite with me, so I can tell she's still pissed. But I ask her to call her mom anyway for an update on Taoji's condition. "They won't be in their room," Raina says in an irritated voice.
"Just try."
She dials the phone and lets it ring and ring. "I told you. They are in hospital."
So I tell her to call the hospital, and she says she doesn't have that number, and why don't I just find it and call myself? Like she doesn't know I completely choke every time I try to talk with Taiji or Taoji. I could have Hari bug Mom for updates, but he's at work, as usual.
In the evening, Dad is pacing back and forth across the front yard.
"Why doesn't he just go in a straight line and take a walk?" Doodles asks me as we both look at him from the family room window.
"Because he's strange," I say. Actually, it's probably because he doesn't want to be too far from the phone.
I can't stop thinking about Taoji. What is going on right now? Is he okay? Is he getting better? Worse?
"Now you're doing it." Doodles points to me pacing in front of the family room window. "You must be strange, too. Is something wrong?"
"Uh, yeah. That shirt with those shorts."
She looks down at her orange and blue striped T-shirt and her pink flowered shorts, while I make my escape.
Upstairs, I find Mom in her room laying dresses on her bed. "Which do you think says 'not too old to enter the workforce?' This?" She holds up a long purple sundress. "Or this?" She picks up a green khaki skirt with a white cotton top.
"Go with the green. It's good with your eyes."
"You think?" Mom leans near her mirror and holds the skirt up to her face. The green highlights in her hazel eyes glow. "I guess it'll have to do. I can't believe I'm starting a job tomorrow."
I move a dress and sit on her bed.
"I don't even know what to do about lunch. Do I bring food? Buy there?" She wrings her hands. "I think I need a pep talk."
"Hmm."
"Oh. Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
"You know what would make me feel a whole lot better?" I ask. "Knowing all the facts for once. Being able to talk about what is really going on."
She drapes her outfit over her arm. "So maybe I should just call someone and ask about the lunch thing."
"GRRRR!"
"Sangeet. What on earth?"
I shake my fists. "I can't take this anymore. This stupid ridiculous family with its stupid ridiculous secrets." I grit my teeth.
Mom sits beside me. "Such as?"
I spring to my feet. "Taoji, Mom. Okay? Taoji. He's dying and it's this huge secret and it's driving me nuts."
"Hari told you."
"Hari didn't. Raina did. And she wasn't supposed to say anything either, right? So we've all been talking about it. Talking talking talking about it. I suppose that's why he's doing so badly, right? Because we're going against some ancient Indian superstition or something."
"Sang, take it easy." Mom lays her outfit on the bed, closes the door, and turns to me.
"How can I take it easy when I don't even know what's going on?" I pace the room. "Or if he's going to be okay!"
"Shush. Does Doodles know?"
"No. Look, don't be mad at Raina for blabbing. I made her tell me. I just have to know, how is Taoji doing? What's the latest news?"
Mom pulls me to the bed and sits with me. "He's hanging in there, sweetheart. That's all we know for now. It seems the next twenty-four hours are critical. The radiation is hard to take. Taoji is weak, but he's at one of the best hospitals in the country. They are doing everything they can."
I look at her hand and blink tears from my eyes.
"I'm so sorry we didn't handle this better," she says. "But your father... I'll keep you updated from now on."
I nod.
"Listen, honey, about your father. Don't tell him we've talked about this, okay?"
"But how can he be so superstitious? How can he think talking about something will make it happen?"
"Superstition isn't a sensible thing. After we had you kids, I had to battle with your father to make a will. He found it terrifying to talk about who would watch you kids if we died."
"Who would watch us?"
"It's taken care of."
"Don't talk about it, right?"
"It isn't easy." She rubs her brow. "We should be able to talk about all sorts of things." She gives me a piercing look. "Like about your friend. How is it you were seeing some college boy and never told me?"
I stand. "Well, that's over, right? King Dad said so."
"Sang, come on. He's naturally concerned. Going out with a boy so much older than you is asking for trouble. I just don't think---"
"Mom, do we have to talk about this?"
"Sang, you and Cameron are at completely different places in your lives right now. When you're in college, you'll look back and understand. Don't be in such a rush to grow up," she says in her wise motherly voice.
"No one knows his own measure of time," I say.
She gives me an odd look.
"Don't rush," I say. "Right. Got it." I open the door. "Glad we had this talk."
Mom takes a deep sigh and gathers the clothes off her bed. "Right."
\*\*\*\*\*
Around 4 a.m. the phone rings. I jolt awake and hear my dad talking. My heart thrums as I clutch the sheet to my chest. Is Taoji gone? Wouldn't the world feel different if he was gone?
"Thank the God!" Dad says.
Thank God. I want to run to my parents' room and leap on their bed and whoop. But I can't. So I smile and snuggle into my pillow instead.
"You left crumbs. Here." Dad points to the table.
"Sorry," I say. I sweep the crumbs into my hand, even though the mess was from his muffin. Pretending to be a dutiful daughter is practically impossible. I don't know how Raina ever pulls it off. Okay, so I get the whole doing the chores without asking bit. But all the bowing and scraping and ha-ji, whatever you say-ji stuff makes me crazy.
I stack the dishes in the dishwasher while Dad criticizes me for not rinsing off the plates well enough. I don't say anything. This is not as easy as it sounds. It involves much pressing together of the lips and biting of the tongue. Quite stressful.
Mom goes off to work, so nervous she is practically trembling. I realize this means Dad will be driving us to swim lessons on this splendid Monday morning. He'll probably stare at us through the chain link fence, shouting, "You. College junior. Stop looking in my daughter's direction. Do you hear?"
I'd pretend I feel too sick for swimming, but if I don't go to lessons I won't see Cameron at all.
Luckily, Hari comes ambling into the kitchen and grabs Dad's keys. "I'll drive 'em, Dad."
In the car, I thank Hari for taking us. "You're really doing me a favor," I say.
"I'm not doing it for you," he says. "I got my own plans."
"Such as?" Doodles says from the back seat.
Hari grins and whistles.
"Oh, you can't be serious. It's Michelle, isn't it?"
"Oooh," Doodles says.
Hari scratches his chin. "Mind your business."
"I thought you were done with her," I say. "You said she was a stalker. Didn't he say that, Raina?"
"You did say that," she says.
"Woo-hoo, Hari's in looooove," Doodles says.
"Are you?" I say in a mock serious voice.
"We're just messing around. That's all. Now everybody get off my back before I dump you all on the street."
We're silent for a while, until Doodles starts making smoochy sounds. Raina and I crack up. Hari scowls.
After Hari drops us at the pool, I feel like someone's kicked me in the stomach. Cameron and Trish are wrestling in the shallow end. He's got her around the waist, trying to dunk her, and she's squealing like she's terrified of getting wet. I head straight for them, while Doodles says, "Wrong way. You're in our class now, dummy."
I stand on the edge, watching them laugh and twist in each other's arms.
"You're going down," Cameron says.
"That's what you think," Trish says, facing him.
"Cameron?" I call.
He looks up. "Hey, Sang."
"Hey," Trish says, placing her arms around his neck.
"Cameron, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Sure." He tries to push Trish away from him.
"Ow. Cameron, wait. I'm stuck to you," she says.
You wish, I think. Then I notice she really is stuck. She has one of those "Contemplate Your Navel" belly jewels on. And it's hooked onto the crotch of Cameron's shorts.
"Let me undo it," she says, reaching down.
"Uh, no," he says, grabbing her hands. "You'd better let me." While he works to unhook it, she rests her hands on his shoulders and smiles at me.
"Can we do something for you?" she asks. "Your little lesson is about to start. You wouldn't want to miss that."
I give her a steely smile back.
"God, this thing is really in there," Cameron says. "Can't you take it off?"
"Your bathing suit?" Trish says. "Again?"
"Take your jewel thing off."
Now both their hands are down there. Oh God.
"Kind of reminds you of last night, right baby?" Trish says and nuzzles her cheek against his.
I feel my heart pounding in my ears.
"Knock it off," Cameron says, pulling his face away. "You're blocking my view. Okay. Got it," he says. They separate at last.
"Thanks," she says and kisses his cheek.
Now I'm seething.
"Can you get them started?" He nods to their two remaining little Non-swimmer students sitting on the wall. "I'll be right there." Cameron comes over to me. "Sorry about that."
"You and her were together last night?"
"It was just a party thing. Everybody was skinny-dipping there. No big deal."
No big deal?
"She's just messing with you. I'll talk to her again." Cameron squeezes my ankle. "I missed you." He gives me the most incredibly affectionate look.
Now I can't help but smile. "Yeah. I missed you too." A quick glance at Trish's sour expression cheers me even more. "Listen, about Friday. Can I meet you there? I'll ride with Megan and Raina and Raina's date, and you can bring Stan. Does that work?"
"Sure. Stan has his own car, though, so we could both drive and fit everybody."
"That's okay. It'll work better this way." If, that is, I'm actually allowed to go.
"All right. If you're sure. How 'bout I see you tonight after work?"
"Uh. I can't."
"Oh."
"I wish I could. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. Guess I'll just hang out with some of the guards then."
I glance over at Trish. She's going to be with him every day at lessons and every night at parties. She's always available---never has to say no or make excuses. Friday night is days and days away. By then our floundering relationship could be dead in the water. And then he'll be gone...
"Maybe I can see you later tonight," I say, my throat dry. "I'll let you know."
He grins.
"Cameron, come on," Trish says. "We have to get started."
He pats my leg. "Hey, you'd better hurry. Looks like your class is starting."
Over where Raina and Doodles are, a few kids in their class are in the water, face down, arms and legs out.
"W-what are they doing?" I ask.
"Dead man's float."
"Have fu-un," Trish says.
\*\*\*\*\*
"It's too risky," Raina says. "You'll never pull it off."
"But I have to see him."
It's Monday afternoon, and she and I have been forced by my dad to take Doodles and her friend Bethany to Burpee Park to sell yet more ice pops. Now the two of them are spending most of their time on the monkey bars, leaving Raina and I alone by the cooler in the shade of a giant oak tree.
Raina kicks off her flip-flops and leans against the tree. "Sang, I thought you wanted to go with Cameron to the party."
"That's still the plan. And I'll still do the whole good girl stuff for the rest of the week. I just have to meet up with Cameron tonight without getting caught." I swat a fly from my face. "Trish's acting like he's her boyfriend. I can't let him spend another night with her. He'll forget all about me."
"Sang, you're exaggerating."
"Am I? Raina, how long were you away from Sanjay before he forgot about you?"
Raina hugs her knees tight.
"Look, I'm sorry to bring that up," I say. "But you, better than anyone, should know where I'm coming from."
She rests her head on her knees. "Change the subject, please."
I check to make sure Doodles isn't looking, and open the cooler to get two red ice pops. "Here. Don't tell her. She'll freak." We peel off the white paper and start slurping at the partly melted pops. "Raina, you're the master of sneaking. Think of something."
"You keep forgetting that I got caught." She licks a drip from her wrist.
"How did you get caught?"
"We were careless. It was late at night and he insisted on walking me right up to my door to see that I was home safely."
We both finish our ice pops and chuck the sticks and wrappers into a plastic bag next to the cooler. "Sang, are you sure you must see him? This is worth the risk?"
"Yes, Raina. He's got to know how I feel about him, before...well, it's important."
"Well, then. There is a way. But it works best with a cell."
We plot for a while, until Doodles runs up to us, sees our ice-pop-red lips, and demands we pay up. This ends up costing me far more than the fifty cents each, because this reminds her I still owe her for my private swim lessons and Anna's birthday present. As soon as we drag the cooler back home, I have to take ninety-two dollars from my night table drawer and stick it into that jar of hers.
Doodles adds her day's ice pop profits to the jar, and she and Bethany start planning for another yard sale this Saturday. Doodles says, "I'm going to find more stuff from my closet and even look in the basement. You guys can help me."
"Sure," I say. "Promise. But we're kind of busy right now." I pull Raina into my room, closing my door behind us. "Okay, Raina." I pick up the phone, even though while I'm grounded I'm not supposed to use it. "Let Operation Cameron begin."
Raina said that back in India she used to go to bed fully dressed and keep her cell phone in her pocket on vibrate. When Sanjay was waiting for her outside, he'd just text her.
Without a phone, things are a lot more complicated. The whole staying up while pretending to be asleep thing for starters. Raina tried to stay up with me but was asleep by 12:15. By 12:40, I was sitting on the edge of my bed wondering, is Cameron even awake? I can't risk using our phone to find out. I just have to trust. That's what relationships are all about anyway. Trust.
So I trust that he is up. And that he will be waiting for me at the appointed spot at the appointed time. I carry my flip-flops with me and tiptoe downstairs. I open the front door and then press it shut behind me. The full moon shines on me like a spotlight in a prison camp.
I try to calm myself. This is what lovers do: rendezvous, have liaisons. It's all very French and romantic. So I set down my flip-flops, step into them, and start walking.
When planning the night, I was so wrapped up in the whole romance part of it that I didn't even think about the creepy part. The part where I'm walking all alone through pools of moonlight where anybody can see me, and through long stretches of deep shadow where anything might lurk. I didn't think about the mysterious scratching sounds I hear in bushes edging the road. Or that perhaps Fonthill Castle is not the most romantic, but the spookiest place to meet.
I hurry along, reaching the castle drive in record time. Above me the thick sycamore branches stretch like snakes ready to coil around my neck and choke me.
It's okay. Cameron will be waiting.
The drive goes on forever. Now I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where I walk and walk but never get where I have to go. Usually, though, there's something chasing me. I glance back over my shoulder. Moonlight. Just moonlight.
Moonlight's romantic. This could easily be a scene from Pride and Prejudice. I am the plucky heroine, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the dashing yet misunderstood Mr. Darcy. As I near Fonthill and look up at its grand windows and balconies, I think tonight may just be the night I'm brave enough to ask him how he really feels about me. And to tell him the truth: Cameron Cerulli, I'm falling in love with you.
Trish isn't the only one who can be wild and exciting. Sang Jumnal is passive no more. And Megan Chung's 3-step "I love you" plan will be a success at last.
I sit on a wooden bench, scanning the deep shadows by the castle door. But no one is there. I cross my arms and shiver, even though it's around eighty degrees tonight. He'll be here soon. And everything will be fine.
But what if he isn't?
What if there's some psychopath on the loose? They don't walk the streets by day, they sneak around at night, preying on silly lovesick girls wearing only shorts and tank tops, waiting for their boyfriends who are late.
I cross my leg and bounce my foot up and down.
You'd think Cameron would be extra early to get me, knowing that I'm here alone, waiting for him. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe the psychopath got to him first and he's lying in the shadow of that doorway right now bleeding to death...
I stand and back away from the door. I hear a twig crack and bite my lip to keep in a scream. If I keep still, very still, maybe I won't be seen.
I feel hair stand up on my arms and neck. An icy finger touches my bare shoulder.
I shriek! A hand covers my mouth.
"Sang, shush. You want the cops to come?"
"Cameron. Ohmygod." I practically faint in his arms.
"Chill out. It's okay."
He holds me, and I gotta say there's nothing in this world more wonderful than having a strong handsome guy holding you by a castle in the moonlight. This is it. The perfect moment.
"Cameron," I say and look up at him. "I've got to talk to you about something important."
He nuzzles my nose. "Sure. What?"
"Cameron, I---"
"Hey, Cerulli, are you coming or what?" There's a guy standing in the shadow by the castle's edge.
"Uh, yeah. Just a sec."
"Cameron, who's that?"
"That's Stan. You remember Stan the man with the really nice can?" He laughs.
"What's he doing here?"
"He came in my car with the others."
"Others?"
"Yeah. Some of the guys. I thought we could go to the all-night diner."
"Oh. Cool."
He takes my hands. "So what did you want to tell me?"
"Uh, you know what? It can wait."
"All right, then let's get us some fries. What do you say?"
"Perfect."
\*\*\*\*\*
"Let's see, that's three orders of fries, a pitcher of cola, one order of Buffalo wings, and a slice of peach cobbler," the waitress says, reading her pad. We're at the diner, and there's a surprising number of people sitting at booths all around us. I guess there's not much open at this time of night. The waitress asks, "Anything else?"
"Got any rice pudding?" Stan asks.
"Aw, seeing that stuff makes me want to hurl," says Marcus, a guy whose neck is as wide as his head.
"Make it a large rice pudding then," Stan says. Marcus lets rip a burp and the guys around me all pound on the table and cheer.
Looking disgusted, the waitress departs. I'm feeling a little disgusted myself. It's like I'm sitting with a bunch of Neanderthals. There's Marcus, the wide-necked belcher, Stan with his surfer-dude hair, James who hasn't said much of anything (I think he's stoned), and Chicken-bone Robbie, a tiny wisecracking guy. They're all wrestling buddies of Cameron's.
At least I'm with Cameron. Even though Cameron isn't paying total attention to me at the moment, but texting on his cell with some college friend of his. He's trying to make plans to meet this friend later in the week. I slide closer to him and try not to yawn. He puts an arm over my shoulder and finally shuts his phone. He talks with the guys about his coach at the University of Maryland and about how tough he is on everybody.
"That's nothing," Marcus says. "My coach is an absolute prick." The guys talk about weight classes and punishing diets. I snuggle into Cameron and relax. Their voices turn to murmurs. That's all I know until Cameron nudges me.
"Want some food?"
"Huh?" I blink stupidly at the table now filled with fattening stuff. Stan is already slurping at the rice pudding and Marcus is groaning. I say, "I think I'll pass. What time is it?"
Cameron checks his cell. "Almost two."
Now I'm completely awake. I've been gone from home for about an hour. What if somebody noticed? "We going soon?"
"The food just got here," Cameron says. "Is something wrong?"
"Seems your friend isn't enjoying our company much," Chicken Bone Robbie says. Marcus belches. The guys cheer and pound on the table again. People at the other tables give us weary looks.
"Hey," Stan says, "doesn't she remind you a little of---Ow!" He turns to Marcus. "Did you kick---"
"I think," Cameron says, "you're all grossing her out."
"It's not that," I say. "You're all very interesting."
"Especially me," Stan says. "Stan the man with the really nice can."
"Uh, actually," I say, "didn't she call you Stan the Can?"
There's a roar of laughter and Chicken-bone Robbie tosses fries at Stan while Marcus high-fives me.
"Hey," Stan says, "you're much funnier than---Ow!" He looks around the table. "Who's kicking me?" Everyone shrugs.
I smile at Cameron and he winks.
"Sang? I thought that was you." There standing in front of me is Michelle Baldarasi, decked out in combat boots and fatigues. I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, she shouts, "Hey Hari, look who the wrestlers dragged in."
\*\*\*\*\*
"Aw, come on, Hari, those guys are harmless," Michelle says, steering her car out of the parking lot. "Unlike me." She reaches over and gives him a squeeze.
"Not now, Michelle. This is serious. Do you hear that Sang? Serious."
"Yeah, I hear you." I'm sitting slumped in the back seat. "Everybody in that diner heard you." Hari embarrassed the hell out of me shouting that all the guys had better back off. And that I was leaving immediately. Cameron tried to tell Hari to calm down, and offered to shake his hand, but Hari would have none of it. He actually said, "You keep those hands off my little sister."
"Well that's tough," Hari says now. "My own sister hanging out with those gorillas."
"You're sexy when you're overprotective," Michelle says.
"Excuse me? Overprotective? Don't you remember those guys back in high school? They'd do anything to get into a girl's pants. They're users. Players. Lowlife scum."
"I think they're cute," Michelle says. "Especially that Cameron Cerulli. I always thought he was hot. Too bad he's going out with your little sister."
"He is not... God, Sang, what the hell were you thinking? Mom and Dad are going to freak."
I freak. "Hari, you can't tell them."
"Yeah, come on, Hari," Michelle says. "No harm done."
"How do I know that? Who knows what the hell she's been doing with those guys?"
"God," I say. "You are such a..."
"What? I'm such a what?"
"Hypocrite."
"Ho ho," Michelle says. "She's got you there, Mr. Hotstuff." She tousles his hair and he jerks his head away from her.
"This is different. She's a girl."
"And what am I?"
"She's sixteen, Michelle."
"Hari, come on," I say. "Give me a break. You can't seriously be thinking of telling Mom and Dad. Nothing happened. I swear. And I've never done anything like this before."
"It's that Cameron dude. I told you he was bad news."
"He is not. And who made you the relationship expert?" I look out the window at the darkened houses along the road.
"You know," Michelle says, "I remember when I was sixteen. Good times." She chuckles and flicks on the radio.
When Michelle pulls up in front of our house, she pulls Hari to her, planting a juicy kiss on his lips. "Bye."
I slide out the back door and look up at our house. No lights are on inside. Hari waves to Michelle as she pulls away.
"So," I say.
"So," he says.
"Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?"
"You are one royal pain in the ass, you know that? Why shouldn't I tell them?"
"Hari, I---"
"I'll tell you why. Because this is never going to happen again. From here on out you are going to stay far from that Cameron Cerulli and all his wrestler friends. Understand?"
I don't answer.
"Well, you'd better understand," Hari says. "Because if you don't---if I find you as much as talking to that jackass---I'll tell Mom and Dad everything. I mean it."
The next morning I wake up with a throbbing headache.
"Taoji has a fever again," Mom says, after pulling me into her room.
"A fever. He's got zero immunity. Any virus can kill him, can't it?"
Mom gives a sad nod.
I rub my temples. Maybe I have a fever. "My God. This is all my fault."
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing," I say. "I'm just being silly." But am I? First I sneak out, then I feel sick. Taoji gets a fever. What if in some bizarre way there's actually a connection? What if karma really does make a difference? What if I'm creating bad karma?
Hari drives us all to lessons again, and now I've got to worry about him staring through the chain link fence and shouting, "Hey, Cerulli, keep your distance." It seems like the whole universe is conspiring to keep Cameron and me apart.
I go right to our Beginner One lesson spot by the pool and sit, holding my forehead. Somehow I don't have the strength to face Cameron this morning. I'm sure he's completely over me. He's probably had enough Sang Jumnal drama to last him a lifetime.
Trish is currently laughing at something Cameron has said. I bet she doesn't have a father or brother like mine. I bet he could spend all the time with Trish that he wants and never get hassled by anybody.
Cameron glances my way and blows a kiss. I smile and wave. Trish gives him a shove and walks away.
"Here," Raina says, handing me a kickboard. "We're doing back kick."
"Like this," Doodles says and jumps into the water. She raises the kickboard over her head, leans backward, and kicks her way across the pool.
I watch Cameron pulling two little students around the pool with his strong arms. If only Dad and Hari knew what he was really like. They'd like him. I know they would. But they'll never give him a chance.
Raina nudges me. "It's your turn."
"Yeah, okay." I jump into the pool, raise the kickboard over my head, lean back and start kicking. And thinking. Cameron blew me a kiss. Maybe he isn't over me after all.
I bump into something and look behind me. It's the wall on the opposite end of the pool. I can't believe it. I actually kicked all the way across.
Trish is sitting by the wall looking down on me. "Well, it's about time."
I grab onto the side of the pool. "What do you want, Trish?"
"I don't get what he sees in you," she says. "But I give up."
"What are you talking about?"
"He's all yours, okay? You can have him."
I blink my eyes, confused.
"Something's obviously wrong with him," she's saying. "He's like in love or something." She makes a gagging face.
In love.
"So I've decided you two deserve each other," she's saying. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together."
I give her a sideways look. "Thank you?"
She gives me a smile, stands and struts away.
Raina quickly comes to my side. "What happened?"
"Either something very good. Or something very very bad."
\*\*\*\*\*
Good karma. That's what I'm sending out into the world in the crazy illogical hope that it will somehow help Taoji. When Doodles wants me to make posters for her yard sale, I do it. When she wants me to write on these posters "Save the Jumnal Family from getting poor," I do it. I even help her hang these up. When Mom comes home with one of these posters that she'd ripped off a telephone pole, I take all the signs down again. No problem.
Taoji's fever goes away. But it could come back at any moment.
At swim lessons, I say hi to Cameron, but don't even think about sneaking out to meet him. For me, everything is focused on Friday night's dance with him. I'm convinced that this will be our special moment. I'm planning on it. That is, until Thursday.
On Thursday during lessons, Trish is nowhere in sight. Cameron calls me over to a picnic table, sits beside me. "I'm almost all packed. Leaving Saturday morning, bright and early."
"Oh." It feels like my throat is closing up. I try to swallow.
"There is some good news, though." He holds up a key. "Guess what this is?"
The key to my heart? I shrug.
"It's Trish's," he says. "She's away till tomorrow, and she offered her house to you and me if we want to meet there tonight." He rubs the back of his neck and looks extremely awkward.
"Seriously?" But this doesn't make any sense. I look around the pool complex trying to sort out what it might mean, and I can only come up with one conclusion: Trish was actually telling the truth. She's given up the fight. And Cameron loves me?
He takes my hand. "So? What do you think, babe?"
"Oh." My mind spins. I imagine myself in Cameron's arms. But I'm grounded. Dad always has a close eye on me. Now Hari does too. I feel almost dizzy. "Cameron, I just can't."
"Oh," he says, lets go of my hand and looks at the ground.
"I'm really sorry. It's not that I don't feel... I just can't tonight."
He sticks the key in his pocket. "Sure. I understand." He stands. "I get it, Sang."
He doesn't.
I stand and grab his arm. "Let me see what I can do."
At home I make sure I'm the perfect daughter. After dinner, I clear the dishes from the kitchen table and wipe up all the crumbs. I try to avoid Dad as much as possible, which isn't hard because he's spending a lot of time studying at the picnic table in the backyard. He also sits in his room reading from a small Sikh prayer book, which is something I've never seen him do before. I guess he's doing his own good karma thing.
Thursday night comes. Raina goes to sleep, unaware of my plans. This feels like too huge a secret to share with anyone. I lie in bed in the dark. The light goes off in my parents' room. After a long while, I get up and peer into the hall. The light is out in Hari's room too. It's perfect.
My heart starts to pound as I get out of my pajamas and into my blue sundress. I think about Cameron a block away, waiting for me in his car. Of finally telling him I love him. Of being all alone with him in Trish's house. My heart pounds faster. I smooth my hair with my sweaty palms. Then, with my hand against the wall, I feel my way like a blind person through the hall and down the steps.
I'm at the front door. I touch the knob but hesitate. Cameron is waiting. I said I'd go. It will be okay. Beautiful. Perfect.
I stand here, frozen for the longest time. My heart surging in my chest.
This doesn't feel perfect. It feels like bad karma.
I turn the knob...
I turn around.
\*\*\*\*\*
The next morning during lessons, Cameron comes over to me. "Babe, what happened? I was waiting forever."
"I know. I---it was my brother. He caught me." I glance away. "I'm really sorry."
"Right," he says.
I look at him. "Cameron, it wasn't that I didn't want to---"
"No. It's okay." He looks hurt. "Guess I'll see you tonight at the party."
I watch him walk away and cross my arms tight. He needs to know how I really feel. I have to take action---and I have to do it tonight.
Finally it's Friday evening and the arrangements for the dance are all set. I don't bother to run this by my dad---why cause trouble? It was understood that if I was good, the party would be on. In a half-hour, Megan is driving to Gary's first, then picking up me and Raina, and taking us all to the party at the Michener Art Museum.
I stand in front of my mirror wearing the beautiful black and white dress. I look closely at my face, noticing that my zits on the edge of my forehead have practically disappeared. The scratches from the fight are gone. Maybe good karma is starting to pay off.
I guess I really deserve to have things work out for me. Especially since I've been working so hard to make things work out for others. I've been supportive of Gary and Raina going together tonight, and she's so excited. She's been in the bathroom for a half-hour dabbing on make-up. I've also got Megan set up with Stan, who, though he isn't the sharpest crayon in the box, is nice enough looking to make David miserable. So that's good.
If you believe in this sort of karma stuff, you might even think that I have something to do with Taoji still hanging in there. His fever is gone. It's been around a week since they started the chemo. Soon it will be done and they can do the BMT. Then everything will be okay and I can go back to being my not so good old self again.
I pick up my birthday necklace from my dresser and remove the pendant from its broken chain. In my jewelry box I find last year's necklace, remove its "Lead Wisely" pendant, and thread on the "Expect Great Things!" one. As I clip the chain around my neck, Raina says, "How do I look? Not too terrible?" She stands in the doorway in that shimmery golden wraparound dress. Her hair is swept up into a stylish twist, she's wearing golden dangling earrings, and eyeliner makes her eyes look exotic.
"Oh my God. You're like a Bollywood star."
"You are teasing me," she says, waving the comment away.
"I wish I were. Next to you I look positively ordinary." I touch my necklace and look at my plain Jane face. "Help me!"
"Here, let me pin up your hair on the sides a little. That's all you need." Raina pulls up some hair over each of my ears. "What do you think?"
"Better."
"Okay. I have some lovely clips you can use." She unzips her cosmetics case. "Cameron is going to faint when he sees you, Sang."
Downstairs, I hear Mom and Dad returning from their walk.
"I hope so. But remember, no Cameron talk in front of my parents, okay?"
"Right." She sticks some hairpins in her mouth and starts fussing with my hair.
"This is going to be a big night for him and me, Raina. The biggest."
"Mmm?" she says.
"Raina, I haven't told this to anybody---not even Megan. So you have to swear on your life to keep it secret."
She pulls the hairpins out of her mouth. "I swear. What?"
"Tonight I am going to tell Cameron I love him." I take a deep breath, suddenly so aware that saying this out loud is making it even more real.
"Oh, Sang, really? How sweet. When did he tell you he loved you? You never said." She puts a glittery black clip in my hair.
"He didn't. Not exactly. But I think he does love me, Raina. I can feel it. He just needs to know how I really feel."
She hugs me. "I'm so happy for you."
"Don't worry. It will happen for you again, too. Who knows, maybe you and Gary..."
"Please." She stares at her reflection in the mirror. "Don't talk about it. I'm nervous enough as it is."
"What are you guys doing?" Doodles asks. She's wearing blue grass-stained shorts, a white T-shirt with chocolate milk drips on it, and has grass clippings stuck in her hair.
"What's it look like?"
"Well you sure are dressed up for helping me set up the yard sale. Come on. I've got a ton of stuff to price in the garage."
"That's nice," I say and spin. My dress swirls. "Ready, Raina?"
"I think so."
"Let's wait downstairs, then. Megan should be coming soon."
I grab Anna's present from my dresser and we go downstairs to the living room.
"Oh, don't you two look absolutely gorgeous!" Mom says.
"What's the occasion?" Dad says.
"You know," I say and shake Anna's present.
"We're getting ready for my yard sale," Doodles says, hanging on the banister.
"Not tonight," I say.
"But you said you would. Remember? You promised."
"Sangeet?" Dad says. "Did you promise your sister?"
"Well, I did, but that doesn't mean---"
"Then you should help her," Dad says.
"Akash, they are going to Anna's birthday party at the museum tonight. Remember?" Mom says.
"Since when? I didn't say you could go. You're still grounded, remember?"
"You said if I was good, I could go to this party," I say in what I hope is a patient voice.
"I said I would think about it. And how good is it to break promises to your little sister?"
I put my hand on my hip. "But I didn't promise to help her tonight. And I have been good. Very good." Raina shakes her head at me and I take my hand off my hip. The doorbell rings. "That's Megan. Bye," I say.
"No," Dad says.
"Akash," Mom says. "This is a special night."
"This is trouble. Lena, this girl is growing up too defiant. How will she ever learn to follow rules and respect her elders if she never listens? She didn't ask me about this party tonight. Why? Because she knew I'd say no."
"And she broke her promise to me," Doodles says. She turns to me. Her eyes fill with tears. "It's like you don't even care that we're poor. You don't even care about me."
The doorbell rings again.
"Doodles, that's not true. Can we talk about this later?"
"There's no need to talk," Dad says, jutting out his jaw. "You're staying home. Raina, you're a good girl. You can still go."
I'm stunned. "Dad, why?"
"Time for discussion is over."
"Sang," Raina says, "it's okay. I'll stay home with you. Doodles, we'll both help you."
"No, Doodles. We won't," I say. "Because it's all a big fat waste of time. You know how much money they need? One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. You think your jar can hold that much?"
There's a long tense silence.
"Mommy?" Doodles says. "Is she right?"
"Don't ask them," I say. "They won't tell you anything. The truth is you can't ever raise enough money to help. Your yard sale, your ice pop sale: it's all pathetic. You can't save the day, Doodles. Face it. And you can't save Taoji."
"Don't you speak like that," Dad snaps.
"Sang," Mom says. "Please."
"Please what, Mom? I'm sick of all the pretending, okay? Pretending that I'm some good little girl, when the truth is I'm not. Pretending that everything is going to be okay, when it isn't. Doodles, Taoji Ravinder is dying. Did you know that?"
"I'm not listening to this," Dad says, heading for the stairs.
"Akash, be reasonable," Mom says. "The kids only want to understand."
"Understand this, Doodles," I say. "The money's for an operation that probably won't work, and there's nothing you or anybody else can do about it. Isn't that right, Dad?"
Dad turns on his heel. "How dare you!" he shouts at me. "You know nothing of these matters."
"And whose fault is that?" I shout back. Tears spring to my eyes. I grab Raina's wrist and pull her to the door.
"You go out that door, Sangeet, don't bother coming back because you are no longer my daughter. You hear me?"
"Fine with me!"
I drag Raina out onto the front porch.
"All set?" Megan says.
"Sang, we should go back in," Raina says.
Megan looks at us both. "Something wrong?"
I take a deep deep breath. "Let's just go."
"I don't know. Do you think it's too much?" Anna asks. She wrinkles her nose at the twinkly lights swathing the doors and windows and at the round tables covered with white linen cloths and vases full of white roses. The doors of this room open to a garden filled with fountains and sculptures, more twinkly lights, and tables with candles on them. Out there is a wooden dance floor and a stage where a DJ is setting up.
"Are you kidding? Anna, this is like a dream come true. It's perfect. You look perfect." With just a touch of jealousy, I admire her dress, the one I had originally picked out for myself. "Happy birthday." I give her a hug. "Where do I put your present?"
She points to a table draped in white netting stacked four and five boxes high with presents. I go and set my teeny box on top of the stack.
"I wonder what her wedding is going to be like," Jackie says in my ear.
"Seriously," I say.
"Hey, Sang." Dalton waves and looks awkward as he pushes his glasses up his nose. He's wearing black pants, a white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a blue and black striped tie.
"Hi, Dalton." I give him a friendly smile.
Jackie thrusts her arm between us. "Look what Dalton got me. Isn't it beautiful?"
I glance at her ivory rose and baby's breath wrist corsage. "Pretty. Good taste, Dalton."
He shrugs. "My mom picked it out. I'm not too good with that sort of stuff."
"Well, she did a good job," I say. "Jackie, I love your dress." She's wearing a peacock blue dress with a wide frilly skirt. "It looks vintage."
"It is. I got this from the thrift shop. Can you believe it? I wish we could dress like this all the time."
I smile and scan the room for Cameron. No sign of him. I step outside to the dance floor. No Cameron. I hug myself. He'll be here. It'll be okay.
"So how is he?"
I turn to Dalton, surprised he's at my side. Surprised he's asking. "He's great."
"So he's doing better with the chemo?"
Oh. Right. Taoji. "Actually, he's not great. But he's hanging in there. Thanks for asking."
"No problem. You look really nice tonight."
"You too." We share one of our dimple-smiles. "I'm so glad we're back to being friends."
"Dalton? There you are," Jackie says, her brows furrowed. "I think we should find a table. Don't you?"
"Have fun," I say as Jackie grabs his arm and steers him away. I wander through the garden, passing a metal sculpture of a woman herding a lamb.
Where is he?
Ahead there are some benches, where Raina and Gary are sitting and talking. She looks relaxed and happy.
I head back toward the dance floor. Megan lunges at me and pulls me aside. "Where are they? What if David comes with that Liselle and I'm here all alone?"
"So what? Look at you in this clingy black lace dress. You're smoking."
"What will Liselle wear? Probably clear plastic wrap. I can't do this." She strangles my arm. "I have to get out of here. Before he comes."
I pry off her hands. "We're in this together, okay? Just stick by me. The guys will come. They will." I swallow hard.
"You better be right. I've got to eat something. You know how hungry I get when I'm nervous. Come on, let's see if the buffet is open."
We go into the main room and find a long table with those little metal serving dishes on stands over flames. The flames are lit, but the lids are still over the food. She lifts one of the lids. "Rice. Not good." She lifts another. "Some kind of sauce. Do you see any spoons? I need a spoon."
I look around. Only the giant serving spoons are in sight. Megan picks one up. "Megan, come on."
"Fine." She sets the spoon down and lifts the next lid. "Ah. Finger food." She reaches in and plucks out a tiny meatball dripping with gravy.
"News flash," I say. "That is not a finger food. Not unless you've got a toothpick." A blob of gravy drips onto the rug. "And a napkin."
"Tough." Megan plops the meatball into her mouth and licks her fingers. Suddenly her eyes grow super-wide. And so do mine as I realize what's just happened. Megan, ultra animal-rights, save the planet, vegetarian Megan, is eating meat. She grabs a cloth napkin and spits the meatball into it. "UGH!" She wipes her hand across her mouth. "I can't believe I did that. See how nervous I am?"
"About what?" Stan asks. He's with Cameron and they're both wearing tan slacks, white shirts, dark blue blazers, and red ties, like it's a uniform. But they both look nice. Especially Cameron.
"You made it," I say, trying to sound light-hearted.
"What did you expect?" He takes my hand and looks me up and down. "Babe, you are beautiful."
All I can do is make this ridiculous tee-hee sound.
Stan says, "Megan, you're hot. How about me?" He spreads his arms. "Huh? I clean up pretty good, don't I? And check this out." He turns around, pulls up his blazer, and wiggles his butt. "See? I brought my can." Stan faces her again. "And just to straighten things out with my old buddy Cameron here, you did say I have a really nice can. Not that I was a can. Am I right?"
"Uh," Megan says. "Right. What you just said. Right." She stuffs the napkin behind a chafing dish and slides the lid back over the meatball dish. "God, I can't believe I almost ate that."
"What'd you have?" Stan asks.
"Those balls. Not balls. That sounds bad. I mean it is a ball. It's made of meat. Not that kind of meat." She crosses her eyes in humiliation.
The music starts up outside with a throbbing beat. I take Cameron's hand. "Let's dance."
"Oh yeah," Stan says, bopping his head to the beat.
We join the others out on the dance floor. Cameron is a great dancer. But then again, what isn't he great at? He peels off his jacket and drops it on a chair. He rolls up his sleeves and loosens his tie. On the other side of the floor, I see Gary and Raina dancing away.
Stan is one of those super serious dancers. He's working up a sweat and grinding Megan, who keeps dancing away from him. Next thing you know, he's got his jacket and tie off and his shirt unbuttoned to practically his navel. Megan dances past me. Stan is hot on her trail, seemingly happy with the chase.
I get close to Cameron. I smile and reach my hand up to his face. He reaches in his pants pocket, pulls out his cell, and flips it open. "Sorry. I'll be right back," he shouts over the music. He walks away from the dance floor toward the back of the garden, talking on his phone. I join Monique and some other friends in a dance-off, each one of us doing a more ridiculous move than the next. When it's my turn, I moonwalk and do some stupid robotic thing with my arms, and I come to a halt. Megan is grinding with Stan and looks completely into him. I cock my head robot-style, wondering why. Then I figure it out fast.
On the edge of the dance floor, hands tucked tightly beneath his armpits, is David. He's wearing white Chucks, nice black pants, a lime-green Ninja Turtles T-shirt, and a tie with a snowman on it. He's staring at Megan and Stan so intently, I half expect laser beams to shoot from his eyes, and for Megan and Stan to explode, leaving behind only a bit of lace and a few strands of bleach-blond hair.
Suddenly the music changes to a slow dance.
Megan and Stan are now face to face, moving as one. Stan's hands are roaming all over her back and he's whispering in her ear. David has shifted a few feet closer to them, still giving them his creepy laser stare.
I push past them and find Cameron near the fountain, laughing on the phone. I tap him on the shoulder and he nods at me. "Listen, I gotta go. But I'll see you really soon. Yeah. Me too." He closes the phone.
"Cameron, who---"
"Sorry about that, babe." He twines his fingers through mine. "That was my friend from college."
"The one you've been trying to meet up with?"
"Yeah. We've planned to meet tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Later. After this thing is done. There's this party."
"Oh, okay. Sounds fun," I say. "Where?"
"I'm not sure you'll like it. It might be kind of crazy."
I pull him toward the slow-dancing couples and he draws me close to him. Nuzzles my neck. Over his shoulder, I see Dalton dancing with Jackie, but watching me. He quickly looks away.
"Cameron, I really like being with you," I say.
"Me too." He kisses my cheek. The twinkly lights make his eyes sparkle. "I'm going to miss you."
"Cameron, I---"
"Hey folks," the DJ announces. "Chow's on. Everybody head on in and get some grub."
"Yes!" Stan says. He races away, leaving Megan behind.
David is suddenly beside Megan, his hands still tucked under his arms. "Who was that guy?"
"What business is it of yours?" she asks. "Where's Liselle?"
"At some party. Why?"
"Nice tie," she says in a sarcastic voice.
"Thank you. Who was that guy?"
"Stan. He's in college."
"I see." David speed-walks away. Megan's lip quivers.
"Come on, Megan," I say. "You can get some food now."
She shrugs. "I'm not so hungry anymore."
"Well, just come with us," I say.
"Who was that freak?" Cameron asks.
Megan bites her lip.
I take her arm. "Look, they've got vegetarian fajitas." I point to some of our friends who are walking back toward the garden tables, their plates brimming. "You love fajitas."
"Love." Megan sighs.
"Excuse me. Excuse me, everybody." It's David on the DJ's stage, talking on the mike. Feedback whistles through the speakers, making everybody cringe.
"What is that idiot doing?" Megan says.
"Happy birthday to Anna, wherever she is," David says. Anna waves from a back table. "Sorry, I won't delay the festivities for long. There's just something I must say to somebody out here." He rubs his head, leaving his hair even more messy than usual. "Somebody important."
"Did I miss anything?" Stan asks. He's standing next to Megan holding a dish of meatballs.
"See, there's this incredible girl," David says. "She actually went out with me. Yeah. I know. It shocked me too, because she is amazing."
"I am not listening to him go on about that slut," Megan says. "Stan, take me home."
"But the meatballs."
"Oh, come on." She pulls Stan toward the exit.
"Megan, don't go," David says.
"Hey, that's you," Stan says.
She covers her face.
David says, "Megan, I have to---"
The DJ yanks the mike from him and says, "Sorry, folks. Let's get back to some music with---"
David tears the mike from his hands. "I am not a violent man, but I do know the Vulcan nerve pinch. Do not make me use it." This makes the DJ back off. "And listen, you." David points at Stan. "You are one lucky man. Because Megan, she's---wow. It figures I couldn't hang onto her." He tugs at his snowman tie.
Megan tilts her head and takes a step closer. We all do.
"She is journeying to Europe soon and I wanted to be there with her," David says, his voice cracking. "When Liselle hired me to create a website for her line of belly button jewelry, it seemed like the smart thing to do. Yes, she called me 'sweetie,' but she calls everyone that. It was merely a job. Nothing untoward occurred. Well, one time she kissed me, but she apologized and said she only did it to make somebody jealous." He scratches his neck. "So, now I have enough money to go to Europe with Megan. It was supposed to be a surprise for her. Only now I don't have Megan. And that, my attentive friends, is the very definition of irony. I should go." David drops the mike to the ground and a painful crash shakes the speakers. He darts off the stage and pushes his way through the crowd.
"Poor fella," Cameron says.
The DJ picks up the mike. "Okay, as long as there are no more violent Star Trek fans lurking around, let's... Oh, what now?"
Megan leaps onto the stage, seizes the mike and shouts, "David Jovanovich, I love you."
David spins to face her, grabbing his chest like he's having a heart attack. "Oh. Do not jest."
"I'm in love with you, you big dummy," Megan says.
He jumps up and down, then speeds back toward the stage. He jumps up to Megan, and she throws down the mike, which sends yet another earsplitting crash through the speakers. David grabs her and they kiss. Everybody cheers, even Stan.
Cameron and I laugh.
Now. Now is the moment to tell him. I lean close to his ear. He tilts his head nearer.
I have to say it. I lick my lips. I need to say it. I clear my throat. Say it, damn it!
"What is it?" he says.
"Water," I croak. "Need some. Now."
"I can't say it, Raina." We're standing on the edge of the dance floor watching Cameron and Stan dancing with a group of my friends, including Anna and Monique. Even Jackie has left Dalton long enough to shake her hips with the college guys. "I want to tell him. I need to. But I just can't do it."
"Then you shouldn't. It's not right. Your heart is telling you." She snaps open her purse, pulls out a small mirror and quickly checks her makeup.
"That's not the problem. I'm the problem." She hands me the mirror and I take a quick peek, but can barely stand to look at my cowardly face. I give her the mirror back. "I screw up everything. I can't even go home again."
"Nonsense. It will be fine. Just act really sorry when you get home."
"But I'm not really sorry."
"Act, Sang. Honestly, you Americans are terrible at hiding your emotions. Here," she says, handing me a breath mint from her purse. "You don't want to smell like fajitas."
I pop the mint into my mouth. "Look at him. He's wonderful." Cameron takes a shy girl named Cait in his arms and dips her low. Monique taps him on the shoulder, and he switches, taking her hand and spinning her. "Everybody thinks he's wonderful."
"Not Uncle and Auntie. Or Hari."
"He's going to think I don't really care about him. I'm going to lose him."
"Stop that. You are too hard on yourself is all."
"Maybe I'm not hard enough. Maybe telling him is like going underwater. I just have to take the plunge and that's that." I raise my chin. "Tonight I take the plunge."
"Where? In that fountain over there?" Dalton says and sips from a glass of ice water. He's flushed from dancing and his tie is stuffed in his pocket.
"Oh," I say, swallow my mint whole and start to cough.
While he chats with Raina, I take his glass from his hand and gulp water. At last I feel the mint go down. I hand his glass back to him. "Having fun?" I ask.
"Uh, yeah," he says, examining the empty glass. "Not as much as he is, though." Dalton nods at Cameron. Even more girls are dancing around him now. "I guess he's a real ladies' man."
"He's not like that."
"Right." Dalton sets the glass on a table and pushes up his sleeves. "But if he gives you trouble, you let me know."
The image of Dalton trying to beat up Cameron appears in my mind, and, frankly, Dalton is getting the crap knocked out of him. "Yeah, I will."
"Hello young lovers, wherever you are," Megan says, dragging David over to us. Dalton and I shift uncomfortably. "Isn't he wonderful?" She gazes into David's eyes. "Saving up money like that so we can go to Europe together. My parents are going to be so pissed. And Sang, you thought he was cheating on me." She whacks my hand.
"To be fair, so did you," I say.
"But how could I ever have doubted him?" she says.
David gives her a lopsided grin.
"Love, Sang." Megan pinches my cheek. "That's what it's all about."
I give my own lopsided grin to Cameron.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Your mom left a message. She wants you to call. Something about an uncle?" My grin fades as Megan hands me her cell.
I walk to a quieter spot and stare at the phone. What if I get my dad?
Before I can change my mind, I dial.
"Hello?"
"Mom. Thank God it's you."
"Where are you?" she says in a stern voice.
"At Anna's party, where else?"
"Oh Sang. You and your father are too much alike."
"Mom, please."
"You have to apologize, Sang."
"What about Taoji? Is he okay?" I close my eyes tight.
"The BMT is starting tomorrow morning."
I open my eyes. "So it's good news?"
"Raina's dad finished his part and tomorrow they're hooking up Taoji Ravinder. We should be celebrating. But you and your father... Oh, Sang. Do the right thing."
"I'm trying."
"I have half a mind to drive right over and pick you up."
Burning with anger, I slide the phone shut.
I want to feel good about Taoji, excited even, but I can't. The BMT has to work first. What did the Internet say? It takes a week or more to find out if the body is accepting the new marrow.
I hand the phone back to Megan.
Megan asks if Raina, Gary, and I would mind getting another ride home. "I'm taking David home now, and we could use a little alone time. Couldn't we, my lovey lamb?"
"Yes, my divine patootie," David says.
Raina stifles a giggle.
"Sang, if you need a ride, I've got the minivan," Dalton says. "As long as I'm back by eleven, it's cool."
"That's okay," I say. "I'm sure Cameron can take us."
"Right," Dalton says. "The lifeguard to the rescue. Excuse me, I seem to need another water."
No sooner does Dalton go, than Megan says, "Oooh. He's still stuck on you."
"He is not," I say.
"Denial, Sang. DE-NI-AL."
"Come, my love," David says, patting Megan's hand. Their eyes lock on each other and they stroll away, nearly knocking into a waiter carrying a tray of glasses.
"Dalton is awfully protective of you," Raina says.
I change the subject. "Mom just told me Taoji's having his BMT tomorrow."
She squeezes my hand. "What wonderful news." Suddenly she looks especially sad.
"This means you'll be going home soon, won't you?"
"My father's part is done. We'll all be leaving soon."
I squeeze her hand back. "Somehow I thought you'd be here all summer."
"Oh, Sang. How will I ever face Sanjay?"
"Just act. You are one of the best actresses in Bollywood. I should know. I've seen you in action."
The music slows and couples start to sway. I see Monique dancing with Cameron. Gary comes by and guides Raina to the dance floor.
For a moment I'm struck by just how different everything in my life has become. I was so sure Gary was the one I'd be slow dancing with at this party. I never thought I would get involved with Dalton. And now I'm so sure about Cameron.
For a moment I feel lightheaded.
Cameron's now got his arms around Monique's waist. She's whispering something in his ear. I march over to them and do a firm tap on Monique's shoulder. She turns, a blissful smile on her face. "Oh, Sang. Just keeping him warm for you," she says and steps away.
"Come here, babe." He pulls me close. "I'm glad you're back. Monique's nice and all, but she's got nasty fajita breath." He kisses my earlobe and I practically collapse in his arms.
"Cameron?" I love you. I love you. I love you. "Can you give me and Raina and Gary rides home tonight?"
He nuzzles my nose. "Anything you want."
"And, Cameron?" I love you. I love you. I love you.
"Yes, Sang."
"I... I..." I move my lips but no sound comes out. It's like I'm a dropped call.
Cameron doesn't seem to notice. He spins me, dips me, and pulls me close. The slow song ends. The music picks up. The moment is gone.
Suddenly the party is done and everybody pours out of the museum. It's over.
But it can't be.
This is the night I tell him. I have to. I just need more time. "So, about that other party," I say.
"Okay. Thanks." Gary slides his cell shut. He's in the back seat of Cameron's Mustang with Stan and Raina. "We're cool. My mom will pick us up at that address at eleven thirty."
I turn to him from the front seat. "But that gives us barely an hour," I say. What if I need more time? "Cameron, can you take us back later?"
"Don't you have some sort of curfew?" he asks.
I glance over my shoulder at Raina. "Not really."
"Look, babe, I'm not exactly playing designated driver tonight. I'm planning on staying over."
"He means he's getting hammered," Stan says, pounding on the back of my seat.
"Not hammered," Cameron says. "We'll leave that to Stan the can."
"You are so lucky," I say. "You get so much freedom."
"His mommy thinks he's sleeping over my house," Stan says.
I raise my eyebrow. Cameron has to lie to his mom? It sounds like something I'd have to do.
Cameron turns his car up a long drive.
"Holy crap," Gary says. "I know whose house this is. It's Trish Crowdly's."
I look with alarm at the Gone with the Wind-style mansion at the top of the hill. For a moment I imagine myself getting bitch-slapped. But she and I aren't exactly enemies now, right? I glance at Raina, who looks worried.
"I tried to warn you this party was going to be a little crazy," Cameron says and squeezes my knee. "You want me to take you home?"
Now I imagine my dad screaming at me. "No. I can handle crazy."
He parks his Mustang on the grass by the side of the drive next to a BMW sports car and a beat-up old truck.
We get out. "Come on, Cameron," Stan says. "We got some catching up to do." They walk ahead of us, their wrinkled shirttails hanging out, and their coats and ties left behind in the car.
Even though we're only halfway up the drive and the house's windows are shut, I can hear the pounding rap music.
"Trish Crowdly's," Gary says, his hands in his pockets. "I can't believe it. Guess we'll find out if all the stories are true."
"What stories?" Raina says.
"You know---sex, drugs and rock and roll."
"Just like on 'One Tree Hill,'" she says, a glint in her eye.
"Maybe we should leave," I say.
"Are you kidding?" She pushes me and Gary up the rest of the drive past more and more cars on the grass.
By the time we reach the house, Cameron and Stan have already gone in.
We stand between massive stone pillars staring at the closed front door. "We're going to look ridiculous dressed up like this," I say.
Raina says, "Don't worry. I've got your back. Isn't that what they say on the show?" She pushes open the door.
We're greeted by loud laughter and music pulsing in the semi-dark. Everybody is holding large red plastic cups. People are lying on the grand red-carpeted stairway. I don't recognize anybody. In the room on the left, a group sits passing a joint around a long table beneath a spectacular chandelier. In the dim light and smoke I recognize a guy from the football team. To the right a dark room is filled with dancing bodies. I don't see Cameron.
"Maybe there'll be a drunken fight," Raina says, looking around expectantly. "There's always a fight at parties on 'One Tree Hill.' Broken windows. Things like that."
"That'd be so cool," Gary says.
We pass the stairs and I lead the way through a hallway tight with people drinking and shouting. Meridith, one of Trish's clones, leans against the wall. She's barely clothed in miniscule shorts and a black push-up bra under a sheer white tank.
"Hey," she shouts at me. "What the hell you s'posed to be?" She's swaying like the room is tilting. "Cinderella?" She takes a gulp of her drink and does a spit-laugh, spraying cold beer on my shoulder and down the front of my dress.
"Aw, come on!" I try to wipe it off but it quickly soaks into the fabric.
I push my way toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. It's massive and it's packed. I scan the faces. Lots of college kids. And a few kids I've seen in my gym class or in the halls. In the crowd I notice a cheerleader, a stoner, and a star soccer player.
In the corner is a keg of beer, which none other than Liselle is spraying at everybody. She's wearing a string bikini and her signature belly-button jewelry. On the opposite side of the kitchen I notice a counter covered with liquor bottles, cups, sodas, and a roll of paper towels.
I go straight for the roll, rip off a wad, and dab at my dress. I hope it isn't ruined. I toss the paper into a trash bag bulging with cups and empty bottles.
"How about a rum and Coke?" Raina is saying.
"I can do that," a guy says. It's Cameron's friend I met at the diner. Marcus the belcher. He picks up a bottle of Bacardi.
"Raina?" I raise my eyebrows at her.
"Relax," she says, shaking her purse. "Breath mints, remember?"
"What happened to Gary?"
"I think he's back there dancing."
"You're Cameron's chick," Marcus says to me, handing Raina a very full cup. "Sang, right?"
"Right."
"And your name is Raina? Hey, Sanging in the Raina." He and Raina toast. She downs half her drink.
"Go easy," I say.
"Relax, Sang," Raina says. "I'm going back to India soon. I just want to have a bit of fun. Besides, you can do crazy. Remember?"
"Right. Sure."
"What can I get you, Sang?" Marcus asks.
"Cameron. Where is he?"
"Around somewhere."
"That's really helpful. Raina, you coming?"
She takes another gulp and eyes two jocks arguing by the bay window. "I think I'll stay here for a little while."
"Fine. I'll be right back." I push past Liselle who shouts, "Hey. Who invited you?" I speed up as she spritzes some beer at me, just missing my foot.
Back through the hall of drunks. I look in the dark room of dancers just as the tunes turn from rap to Justin Timberlake's "Summer Love." There's Gary in the middle of it all, having fun. No Cameron, though.
I look up the grand staircase and see more people upstairs. So up I go. On the second floor there are lots of couples making out. I step around them and I'm faced with a bunch of doors. Bedroom doors.
Clearly he's not here. And time is running out. Maybe there's a basement.
I turn and my heart stops. It's a dark corner but I can still see them. Trish in one of her tiny bikinis. She's making out with him. Cameron's white sleeves are rolled up. His hands slide up her back.
"How could you?" I say, my voice choked.
"How could I what?" Stan says, looking up from Trish.
"Stan. I thought---" I manage to swallow. "Where's Cameron?"
"Not with you," Trish says. She takes a wobbly step toward me and pushes my shoulder.
I step back.
"You're crazy about Cameron Cerulli, aren't you?" A weird smile spreads across her face.
"You're wasted."
"Least I'm not sssstupid." She stumbles back into Stan's arms. "You love him, right?"
I glance away.
"You did it with him last night, didn't you? Right in my house while I was gone." She laughs. "Bet you gave it all up for the very first time for him. So now I can clue you in. He already has a girlfriend."
"You?" I shake my head. "Trish, you may have lots of money and lots of freedom, but you know what? I actually feel sorry for you." I start to go.
"He's got a girlfriend. Back in college. Few days ago Stan told me about her." She puts her arm around Stan's shoulder. "All about her. Cameron loves her sooooo much."
I cross my arms. "Like I'd believe you." I sound sure of myself, but remember the friend from college he was meeting tonight. Cameron never did mention his name. Or say it was a he. "Stan?"
Stan gives me a pitying smile.
It's like something inside me snaps.
I rush to the first bedroom door and pull it open. A guy and a girl are tangled in the sheets of a king-sized bed. "What the hell?" the guy says. Not Cameron's voice. I shut the door.
If I had snuck out with Cameron last night...
I try the next. It's locked. I bang on it. "Cameron?"
"Sang," Stan says. "I think he's out on the back patio."
I close my eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath. "Just tell me, Stan. Is it true about the girlfriend?"
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs.
"Is she here tonight?"
"Look, I don't want to get in the middle of---"
"Right."
I hurry down the steps. Trish follows. Tries to shove me but falls herself. I grab her arms before she tumbles down the staircase.
She shakes me off and snarls, "Is your heart ripped out, bitch? I told you. I always get what I want."
"Except Cameron," I whisper.
Suddenly furious, she clings to the banister and screams, "Get out of my house. Get out!"
I back away. Tears blind me as I rush down the rest of the stairs. I squeeze through people, searching for a way out. In the kitchen, the lights are bright and Raina is hanging on Marcus' arm, a foamy cup of beer in her hand. Beyond them is a sliding door leading out to the back yard, so that's where I go.
A huge kidney-shaped pool glows blue from its underwater lights. The music is hushed out here but inside my head it's roaring. I wipe tears from my eyes, take another deep breath, and follow a long winding path through overgrown bushes. I find a patio far beyond the pool, and I see Cameron. He's sitting on a lounge chair, his shirt off, his tan pants rolled up to his knees. Sitting across from him on another chair is a guy I've never met. And right next to Cameron on his chair is a girl. Even in this dim light I can see I'm no match for her. She's got long curly hair, a gorgeous figure, and a sure look about herself. She's everything I'm not.
I stop a distance away and stand there, readjusting my view of the world.
Cameron waves to me. "Sang. Come here."
I don't move. I can't.
He stands and comes to me. "Come here. There are some people I want you to meet." Cameron takes my arm and I walk like a zombie with him.
I stand rigid in my ridiculous dress, while Cameron makes introductions. "Sang, this is my college roommate, Ryan." Ryan waves. I barely notice him. "And this is Stacey."
"Hey," Stacey says as friendly as can be. She has two dimples.
I nod.
"Sit with us," Cameron says.
I shake my head.
"Come on. Ryan will make room for you."
I imagine myself sitting with them. Having a dignified conversation. Being braver and more mature than I've ever been.
I turn and run into the darkest shadows of the yard. I hear Cameron on my trail. He's calling me but I don't care. I'm not stopping.
And I don't until he grabs me.
"Let go." I struggle to free my wrists.
"No. Tell me what's happened."
"Stacey, Cameron. That's what's happened. What do you think?" I yank my wrists free.
"Ryan's girlfriend? What's wrong with her?"
"Did you say Ryan's girlfriend?"
"Yeah. Why?"
I gasp. "That damned Trish. I can't believe I listened to her." I throw my arms around him. In the darkness I feel his arms holding me and smell his spicy cologne.
"What's wrong, Sang?" There's a hint of beer on his breath.
"I love you." I did it. I said it. My heart explodes with joy and I cling to him tightly.
He doesn't move or speak. After a while he pulls back. "Sang," he says, "I really enjoy being with you. It's been a lot of fun. But I'm going back to college tomorrow. It wouldn't be fair to you."
"It's okay, Cameron. We'll talk all the time and you can come back on weekends. Then we'll have all next summer together."
He bites his lip. Looks at my hands in his. "Sang." He squeezes my hands. "I'm flattered."
I blink my eyes. "Flattered." I pull my hands away. "Trish said you have a girlfriend in college. Is it true?"
"Look, we're just having fun here, right? It's summer."
"Is it true?"
"I never wanted to hurt you, Sang. You're special---"
"Stop," I say in a faint voice. "Please." I hold up my hand. My heart explodes with pain. "Please, just leave me alone." I walk away.
"Sang?" he says, but he doesn't follow.
I find myself beside the deep end of the pool. The illuminated water shines electric blue. I step closer to the edge and lean over. My reflection stares back at me from the glassy surface. A pathetic girl. A selfish girl. A fool.
Is this really me?
A teardrop hits the surface and ripples break up the reflection of my face.
I watch my image waver and suddenly my balance goes.
"NO!" I flail my arms wildly. My heart crashes inside of me as I crash into the water.
Down I sink, the skirt of my dress waving gracefully. I land on the very bottom. I hold my breath and look around frantically. Someone has to save me.
When I can't hold it in anymore, I exhale. The bubbles travel all the way to the surface but no one comes. My necklace floats before my face.
Expect Great Things!
I have to breathe. I have to scream. I have to kick.
You can do anything you want to.
I bend my knees like a frog and push off the bottom, my arms reaching high. I kick kick kick. I burst through the water. Draw in a deep breath of air, but I inhale some water. I'm choking and panicking and thrashing around.
I sink, the weight of the dress pulling me down.
I hit bottom again. And no one is coming. I push off the bottom again. Paddle my arms. Kick my legs.
I break through the surface, and inhale. I should scream for help so Cameron can save me yet again. But I don't scream. Instead I do what Cameron taught me: I float, and I cry.
And when I bump against the edge of the pool, I grab on tight and pull myself out. Stumble away from the depths. Hug myself and gasp. "Oh God. Oh God."
And you are going to grow up and make your Taoji so so proud.
My family. I need my family. Trembling, I grab a towel from a chair and dry off as best I can. Then I run to find Raina.
"So marry her. Marry her, Sanjay. See if I care," Raina is shouting when I find her in the kitchen, beside Gary and Marcus.
"Have a little dip in the pool?" Marcus says, eyeing my dripping hair and dress.
I ignore him and grab Raina's arm. "Raina, are you okay?"
She says, "There's nothin' wrong with me. Not a Hindu. That's all." Her lip quivers.
"How much did she have?" I ask Marcus, who shrugs and finishes off a bottle of beer.
"A year. One year today," Raina says. "It's our anniversary. Only it can't be, now, can it?" She smiles stupidly at Gary.
"Sang, my mother is going to be here any minute," he says. "What'll we do?"
"She needs fresh air." I sound in control. Like a doctor on the scene of an emergency. But I'm trembling inside.
Gary and I pull Raina out of the kitchen.
"Wait!" She holds up a finger. "My pursh. Purse. Ppppht." She bends over laughing.
I grab her purse from the counter and we drag Raina along.
"I love him," she shouts.
My eyes burn with held-back tears. "It's okay, Raina," I say. "I've got you."
Gary opens the front door and we pull her outside to stand beside the massive pillars.
"All we need is love," Raina says. "Love will keep us together. Love makes the world go round. And round and round and round. Whoa." She holds her head.
Gary's phone rings. "Hey, Mom," he says. "Yeah. You're almost here. Right after that intersection. Just wait at the end of the drive. We'll meet you there."
"I HATE love," Raina shouts and starts to bawl.
"Shh," I say, rubbing her back. Willing myself not to cry.
"That's nothing, Mom," Gary says. "Just the TV. See you soon." He slides the phone shut. "What are we going to do? My mom will see that Raina is wasted, and all three of us will be screwed big time."
"You're so lucky, Sang," Raina says. "You've got Cameron. He's so sweet."
I can't cry. Not here.
She lolls her head over to Gary. "You're sweet too."
"Gary," I say in a shaky voice, "I need your phone."
\*\*\*\*\*
I strap Raina in the back seat and climb in the front next to Dalton, sitting on a towel he's set out for me. "Thanks so much for coming Dalton."
"You're lucky my parents are asleep, Sang. If I get caught out they'll kill me. If the cops pull me over, I lose my license."
"I know, I know." I clip my seatbelt.
"Why doesn't your lifeguard save you?"
"She loves him," Raina says. "Did you know that? Tell him. Tell everybody."
Dalton sets his jaw and peels out of the driveway.
I lean my head against the window and stare out at the darkness. A hot tear slides down my cheek. After a few minutes Raina is curled up in the back asleep, her purse tucked under her head.
I wipe my face and whisper, "What time is it?"
Dalton looks at his cell. "Almost twelve-thirty. So where exactly is lover boy? Did he push you in?"
"Please don't, Dalton."
He glances at me and we drive in silence. He pulls up to the curb in the front of my house. "Need help with her?" Dalton asks.
"I'll survive. But Dalton, I don't know what to say." I feel tears well. "I'm so sorry. About this. About everything."
"It's okay, Sang." He gives me a gentle smile.
I nod and wipe my cheeks.
After I rouse Raina, she stumbles out of the back seat. Dalton pulls away and Raina says, "I'm going to be sick."
"No you're not. I've had enough to deal with for one night. Got that?"
We're almost at the front door when she says, "No, no. Wait." I brace myself, but all she does is pull a breath mint from her purse and put it in her mouth.
That's when I notice a crumpled piece of paper at my feet. I pick it up and tilt it toward the streetlight. It's a sign scribbled by Doodles that says: YARD SALE TO SAVE MY UNCLE. Frownie faces dotted with tears surround this.
Raina takes a few deep breaths and stands taller, looking almost sober. She lets go of me and barely stumbles as she goes to the door and pulls it open.
We go into the living room and are about to climb the stairs, when I get an eerie feeling and turn. There, sitting silently in the chair by the fireplace, is my dad. He watches us but never says a word.
Raina passes out in her bed, still wearing her dress. I peel off my wet things and change into a cami and shorts. The dress is probably ruined, just like everything else. I hang it over the shower-curtain rod in the bathroom, then I lie on my bed very still. After a while I hear Dad come up to his room and close his door. He'll probably never talk to me again.
I'll never talk to Cameron again. And I'll never again tell someone I love him.
But I'm still here. As bad as things are, as much as my insides feel seared with painful sorrow, part of me is glad of this at least.
I touch my necklace.
In the dark I can just make out Jake Gyllenhaal. For me, the ideal guy exists only in a movie photo. I should be crying now, hard. But what point is there to tears? They don't get rid of the sorrow. They don't make someone love me. They don't heal Taoji.
I pull Doodles's crinkled flyer from my night table and smooth it out. Why did I have to tell her she was useless? That she could never help Taoji? Even if it is true. Especially if it is true. I'm her big sister. I'm supposed to protect her.
I look at the tearful frownie faces on the page. And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I've got plans. Real plans.
If I had a cell phone, I would have set it for a 6:45 a.m. alarm, on vibrate, and kept it in my pocket. Then I could definitely sneak out without waking my dad. I'm not sure how he's going to react to what I'm planning.
Since last week when Raina and I came back from the party and that horrible fiasco at Trish's, he hasn't talked to me. In his eyes, I've disappeared.
My clock reads 6:32. I turn off its alarm before it sounds and I lie in bed listening to the birds sing.
I stretch and think over the last week. It's been full of awkward silences. Not just between me and my dad.
Cameron called a few times from college but I refused to come to the phone. My feelings are too raw and I can't stop aching inside. Anyway, what else can I possibly say to him? Haven't I already said too much?
Now Taoji has a direct phone line to his hospital room. Dad jotted the number on the notepad by the kitchen phone and calls him every other day. Since his illness isn't a big secret anymore, Dad passes the phone around to everyone. Even Doodles gets on the line and blabbers about how much better she is than everyone else in her swim class. Hari asks Taoji how he's doing. Raina tells him how much she cares. I stand by, listening. But all I can think of is his transplant. How we are all waiting for Taoji's body to accept it by producing white blood cells. But how each day the blood counts come back zero. No white blood cells. There's still time for it to work. But what if, after everything he's been through, it doesn't?
So when everybody else has spoken to Taoji, and the phone is handed to me, I refuse to take it. I mumble about how busy I am and leave.
I know how it looks.
I pull open my shades and see the sun rising in the sky. Good. Bad weather would have been a disaster. Quickly I get dressed and shake Raina until she opens her eyes. I open my drawer, pull out the rest of my pet-sitting money, and scoot around the edge of Raina's bed. Tomorrow she's going home. Already Raina's clothes have been picked up off the floor and plucked from the doorknobs of my closet. They have been folded and neatly placed in her suitcase. Soon her cot will be folded up and put away. Sure, my shins will be happier. But I'll miss her mess. And her.
I tiptoe past my parents' bedroom door. I don't know why. They'll figure it out soon enough. Actually, it's a miracle they don't know by now. But Mom has been busy working by day and vegging out by the TV at night. And Dad has been cramming for a test most of this week, spending lots of time at the library, and avoiding me.
I go into Doodles's room and poke her. "Come on, goofball. It's show time."
"Hmm?" She sits up and stretches, just as I hear the squeak of car brakes outside.
I peer out the window. "Holy crap," I say. "Somebody's already here."
"Awesome!" she says, suddenly wide awake.
"Shh. Go get Hari. And don't forget the moneybox. Here." I shove my cash in her hands. "Stick this in it."
She gives me a huge grin.
I rush downstairs and outside, just as a lady is opening the back door to her SUV. "Where do you want this?" She pulls a large box from the seat. Next to this are several bags of clothes.
"Anywhere along the drive, I guess." I pull out a bag and set it down next to the box. "Thanks for bringing this stuff."
"Don't mention it. It's a great cause. I hope it helps."
"Thank you, Mrs...."
"Borghi. I live a block away. I got your flyer." She pulls the flyer Doodles, Raina and I designed and handed out. We gave out at least a hundred. It explains that the drop off of donations is between 7 a.m. and 9 a.m. and that the sale starts at 8 a.m. I'm not sure how much of a response I'll get. Even though I did run an ad in this morning's paper, too.
Two more cars and a minivan appear. Hmm. Maybe we'll at least do better than Doodles's sad yard sale.
The drivers pop open their trunks and wave. Dalton gets out of his minivan and calls me over. "Hey, Sang. I've got three tables for you to use. Also two bikes to sell and a bunch of skateboards. Help me get them out."
We set up tables as three more drivers pull up. Two are driving vans, and out of these come an incredible stash. A TV, a computer, office chairs, weights, books and several boxes of DVDs.
Doodles springs out the front door. "Whoa! Awesome."
"Get Raina and Hari out here, now," I say. Dalton and I start emptying dropped off bags onto tables. Mrs. Borghi starts looking at stuff other people brought.
A few more cars pull up.
"You know, Sang," Dalton says, "I think this yard sale thing is going to be huge."
"We'll see. Thanks for helping."
"Yeah, right. I'm a real lifesaver."
"No. Seriously, Dalton. It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me."
"Hey, no big deal," he says. He turns toward the box of books, but not before I catch sight of his smile. This makes me smile.
"Hey," somebody shouts, "how much for this surfboard?"
"Surfboard?" I rush over to a newly donated pile of stuff. "Um..."
"Forty-five," Hari says, looking ruffled and unshaven.
"Would you take thirty?"
I'm about to say yes, when Hari says, "It's for a good cause."
The man nods and pulls some bills from his wallet.
"Pay over here!" Doodles yells. She's set up her rickety card table and has a firm grip on the moneybox.
Hari pulls car keys from his pocket. "Watch out, I'm moving our cars onto the street to make room."
Raina steps out the front door and looks amazed at the activity. "Sang, it's only like seven fifteen. People are buying already?"
I look at the line forming by Doodles. "I think she may need some help with the cash."
"I'm on it."
"Where should I put these?" Dalton says, holding a set of leather suitcases.
I turn around. Piles of donations crowd both sides of the drive. "On the grass, I guess."
The road in front of our house is packed with parked cars. I hurry to set items on the tables but the tables are quickly filled.
"Wow, Sang, how many flyers did you put out?" Megan says. She's holding the waffle maker. "Here. You can sell this too. Where should I put it?"
"I don't know. Anywhere." My dad is going to lose his mind when he sees all this.
"Don't worry. I'm here all day to help and David is coming soon."
"We're here," Anna says. She's with Jackie and Monique. "My Mom and Dad are putting their folding tables up on the grass. Is that okay?"
"Yeah. Very."
"Tell us what you need," Jackie says.
"Unload," I say. "Arrange. Fast."
There's some yipping as Poopsie comes bounding over with Mrs. Schnapps. Even at this early hour, Mrs. Schnapps is wearing a smart robin's egg blue dress with matching hat and pumps. "So sorry to hear about your uncle, darling."
"Thank you," I say. I give Poopsie a good rub. "How you doing, girl? Huh?" She wags her tail fast.
"What he's going through must be dreadful," Mrs. Schnapps says. "I've been telling just everyone I know. And I have a few things to bring over. Some treasures from my past travels. If that handsome strong boy of yours is around, could he just come over and get them?"
"Dalton?" I call. "Could you help?"
"Having a transplant," Mrs. Schnapps says. "What a brave man your uncle is."
This reminds me. "Excuse me for a moment."
In the basement, I grab the box that was shipped to me a few days ago. I carry it on my hip up to the family room and find myself face to face with Dad. He's still in his white cotton night suit and his hair is sticking up.
"What is going on?"
I think about just walking by him. Or pointing out that these are the first words he's said to me in nearly a week. I drum my fingers on the box.
"What is all that junk doing on my yard?" he says. "And who are all these people?"
"It's not junk. And those are people who care." I walk past him, out the door, and stop. Amazed. Even more people. People everywhere. All over the driveway. All over the lawn. It's like the mall just before Christmas. In between the people is an unbelievable amount of stuff. My friends move fast unpacking boxes. Setting up bikes. Displaying clothes. The road is clogged with cars. Many are dropping off stuff. Many more are just stopping by to shop. The road is so full, cars are slowly circling the block looking for a place to park.
I bring the box over to the money table, where Doodles and Raina are working hard collecting money and making change.
"Sang, we need labels," Raina says, handing a woman some bills. "I'm not sure how much to price things. I know what they should be in rupees, but in dollars I'm rubbish."
"Labels. Right." I rip open the box and take out flyers, bumper stickers, and buttons. "Give these out to everyone."
"I'm taking one," Doodles says and pins a "Donors Give the Gift of Life" button onto her wrinkled T-shirt.
"Sang? Where should I put glassware?" Jackie says.
"On that table by the mailbox."
"Hey, Sang," Monique calls. "Somebody just pulled up with about fifty pairs of women's shoes, still in their boxes. How much should they be?"
"Uh, five each?" I race inside to get labels and pens.
"Sangeet," Mom says. "What in the world?" She's already dressed in shorts and a tank top, and is slipping on a pair of sandals.
"Labels, Mom. Fast."
"In there." She points to the closet by the washer.
"Right." I pull them out. Thrust a stack into her hand. "Help. Please."
We step outside together. I didn't think it was possible. There are even more people. More cars. More stuff. Against our tree leans a mattress and box spring. Beside this there's at least fifteen bikes. Ski equipment. Ice skates. Jackie has taken charge of grouping items. On the right side of the lawn are baby goods, including strollers, monitors, and toys. Two tables feature electronics, such as stereo systems, DVD players, toasters, and blenders. There's a huge collection of books. And no sooner does a man set out his complete set of Star Trek novels, than David appears, offering to purchase them all.
Mom puts her hand to her throat. "Sang, please explain."
"Mom," I say and slap her on the back. "Welcome to our donation yard sale. We sent out flyers, and---"
"No!" Color drains from her face. "You didn't tell everybody we're poor."
I laugh. "No, but we did tell them about Taoji."
"Oh, Sang. You know how private your dad is about all this. How superstitious. And what will the neighbors make of this racket?"
"Look around, Mom. These are the neighbors."
Sure enough, Mom spots Mrs. Schnapps, the Sterns, the Waltons and the Wolfgangs.
She and I frantically start pricing. Hari and Dalton and David help carry heavy purchases to people's cars. I stick an "All Computer Games $1 each" label on a box, when Raina comes up to me.
"This is so incredible. The sale hasn't even officially started and already we've made nearly a thousand dollars."
"No way."
"Can you help with the cash? I need to use the bathroom."
Doodles is in heaven handling wads of one-dollar bills, counting out coins. I sit in the chair next to her and start taking money from customers.
"I want to do all that," Doodles says. "Raina let me."
"Here," I say and push the box of flyers and stickers and buttons to her. "Your job can be to hand these out. When you think about it, it's the most important job here."
"How do you figure?"
The lady next in line says, "Because someone might hear about your uncle and other people like him, and decide to become a donor. And then they can save a life."
"Cool," Doodles says. "Hear that, Sang? I'm saving lives." Doodles tries to hand the lady a button.
"No thanks. I have one at home. Here." She hands Doodles a bill.
"Wow, a fifty," Doodles says waving it like a flag.
"Put it in the box," I say. I notice the lady doesn't have anything in her hands. "What are you paying for? One of the large items?"
"Nothing. It's just a donation. I think what you are doing here is fantastic."
"No way," Doodles says.
"I'll share a little secret with you," she says. "Three years ago I had a bone marrow transplant. Keep up the good work. And best of luck to your uncle."
"Thank you," I say and wave as she leaves. She looks like she's around my mom's age. She looks healthy.
"Daddy, did you see that lady?" Doodles asks.
My dad stands next to the line of customers, his hair damp from a shower.
"She gave us a fifty and didn't even buy anything," Doodles says. "Want a button?"
He looks at the button, juts his jaw out, and cuts through the line. I watch him weave through people and go to his car. I do a few more transactions and look back. His car is gone and another car is taking his spot. I look at my hands and sigh. I guess deep down I was hoping Dad might be okay with this. But he'll never change. Never see me as anything but a disobedient and disappointing little girl.
"I'm back," Raina says and leans over to whisper in my ear. "Cameron just called."
"This early? Why?"
Raina squats near me. "He came home this weekend hoping to talk with you, and he just heard about the sale. Wanted to know what he could do to help."
I cross my arms.
"Maybe you should call him," Raina says. "He sounded really sorry. I don't think he wanted to hurt you."
"Thank you," I say to the next customer.
"Honestly, I think he does care for you, Sang," Raina says.
"Here," I say, standing. "You can have your spot back."
I spend the next half hour or so arranging stuff on tables, stacking books, and answering questions. I thank people for stopping by, and try not to think about Cameron. I'm folding a baby dress and looking out at all my friends working so hard, and all the neighbors and strangers who so want to help. Everybody is saying such nice and caring words.
Suddenly there is my dad, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. He's actually handing out donuts and bottles of juice to Hari, Dalton, Megan, Doodles, Raina, and all my friends who have been helping.
I hug the tiny dress to me as Dad walks over. "Want one?"
I take a donut from his outstretched hand. "Thanks."
"Sangeet, this is not at all what I would have wanted," he says in a stern voice, looking at the horde of people swarming our yard.
"I know."
"And yet..." he says. He smiles tearfully. And that, to me, says it all.
I smile broadly as he squeezes my arm. He walks over to my mom and shakes hands with some people she is talking with.
I set down the tiny dress as Doodles races up to me. "Two thousand, Sang. Two thousand and counting."
It's nowhere near what we need. But as Doodles hugs me tight like I'm some sort of hero, I realize every little bit does count. And I feel a surge of love for my messy-haired little goofball of a sister.
Love. That's what it's all about. I can see it all so clearly now. Love is about really caring. Taking risks. Sharing your heart no matter what you'll get back in return. It's truly worth fighting for.
"Come see all the money," Doodles says, tugging my hand.
"I will. But in a minute. First there's something I've got to do."
I go inside to the kitchen. I bite my lip, pick up the phone, and dial. "Hi," I say. "It's me. I know it's been a while, but I had to call you and tell you how I feel. I---I love you. I just do. That's all I can say."
"I love you too, my little scholar girl," Taoji says. "I love you too."
###
What I Meant...
(Random House Publishers)
Ever feel misunderstood? Ever have people tell lies about you? Ever try to do the right thing only to have it turn out so very wrong?
It's the start of sophomore year, and Sang Jumnal (the heroine of Over My Head) is crazy about a guy, but her Indian dad insists she's too young to date. And her mom, who usually sticks up for her, suddenly thinks Sang is a liar, a thief and a bulimic. Why? Sang's aunt, who has been living with them for the past few months, has been stealing food and money and setting up Sang to take the blame. Now Sang must take drastic action or she'll never be trusted, or date, again.
What I Meant... is the hilarious and touching story about one girl who fights back hard...and sort of wins.
Booklist says, "many readers will not be able to get enough...hilarious, angry, hip narrative"
School Library Journal says, "...teens will enjoy the interesting cast of characters...the book will have a broad appeal, leaving readers wanting more"
Jennifer DeChiara for always being in my corner. Lisa Findlay, my daughters Adria and Cari, Jennifer Strohmeyer and Janice Bashman for their brilliant guidance and edits. My fantastic writers group the Rebel Writers for insightful critiques and meaningful friendship: Jeanne Denault, Damian McNicholl, David Jarret, Chris Bauer, John Wirebach and Russ Allen. My poor family, especially my husband, who suffered through a messy house and plenty of lousy dinners while this book was written. Lisa Farnin for sharing important and touching info with me. Megha Bhargava, Guncha Sahni, Sid Sahni, Surinder Sahni and my beloved Kuldip Sahni for assisting with the Indian background research, and really helping to bring Raina's character to life. My glorious Liars Club who are always there to share advice, to laugh with, and to lean on: Kelly Simmons, Merry Jones, Solomon Jones, Jonathan Maberry, Gregory Frost, Don Lafferty, Ed Pettit, Keith Strunk, Keith DeCandido, Jon McGoran, Dennis Tafoya, and especially Leslie Banks who inspired me to go indie. My scout troops 21852 and 2539, because they asked me to mention them! The Fray for their inspiring music.
I especially want to acknowledge the love, support and courage of Jagmeet, Sumeet and Sudeep Lamba. I love you all!
While Over My Head is a work of fiction, one thing is absolutely true: there is a serious need for bone marrow donors, especially among Indian, mixed race, and other minority populations. Anyone between the ages of 18-60 in good health can help. If you or someone you know would like to be screened to be a donor, or would like more information, please visit http://www.marrow.org/. You can save a life!
Marie Lamba is a full-time writer and author of What I Meant... (Random House Young Adult), which was dubbed "an impressive debut" by Publisher's Weekly. In a perfect world, Marie would spend half the year lounging in a village in Italy, sketching and eating dark chocolate. The other half of the year she'd spend cloistered in her studio writing novels, while also eating dark chocolate. Marie's husband, Baldev, is a native of New Delhi, and together the couple has journeyed all over the Indian subcontinent. They live in Pennsylvania with their two remarkable daughters and a poodle who is a bit too much like Poopsie in Over My Head. To keep up with Marie's new books, to contact her, get book club guides, or to plan an author visit, stop by http://www.marielamba.com/.
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