A Match Made in Mehendi

by Nandini Bajpai

I shake my head, but Noah beams. “Yeah, I’ll come with,” he says, and they’re off. I grin as I watch them walk away, then join Nanima at our seats. A cooler sits on the ground, and Nani unpacks some snacks for us. Sweetie sits in the shade by Nanima’s side with her tongue wagging.

  I watch Rebecca and Hasina, sitting in the bleachers, their heads close together as they laugh. They’re holding hands. I can’t believe we made that happen, me and Noah.

  A whistle blows and all eyes are on the field.

  The teams trot out and shake hands. Ethan and Teá exchange grins when it’s their turn, and then the game is on.

  When the game starts, I go over to my henna stall. Not much of a stall—it’s just a folding table with a box of henna cones, a sign, and a jar for donations. There are a couple of chairs, one for me and one for whoever is getting a tattoo. Noah tied a few balloons to a stone and put them on the table for greater visibility. They look colorful and festive bobbing in the breeze.

  “I’ll be doing small designs,” I say to the line that’s forming. “And one hand only. Just so I can get to everyone.”

  “I’d like a raven.”

  “Oh, I want a Lab.”

  “Hawk, please.”

  “Kitty for me.”

  “What kind of mehendi are these kids getting, beta?” Meera Masi asks. She and Mom have come to the field to support Buddy Dog, and me. “I don’t understand about the kutta-billis. What’s wrong with a classic flower design?”

  “It’s a fund-raiser for an animal shelter, Masi; what do you expect?” Though I’ve got a hunch that the animals are more about the app and its personality MIs than about the pups. I still haven’t told Masi and Mom and Nanima about Matched!, but I’m starting to get excited about what they’ll think of it!

  Masi takes off to find our family while I wrap up another tattoo. As another girl hurries off, shouting her thanks, a shadow falls over me. Amanda Taylor, who’s apparently next in line, standing with Cami and Natasha. “Hmm,” she says. “That looks messy, and it smells weird.”

  I mentally count to ten.

  “I don’t have time to do any more anyhow,” I say with a casual smile.

  “Please, Simi?” Cami asks. She looks apologetically at Amanda. Why is she asking for permission? It’s so dumb.

  “Maybe I can fit you in,” I say. Not to make trouble or anything. “Sit down.”

  Cami happily takes a seat, but Amanda hovers over her. “What if you get that stinky stuff on your clothes? What if you hate the design? What if Simi screws it up? She probably will.”

  Cami looks suddenly unsure. It annoys me that she’s going to back off trying something just because of Amanda’s obnoxious questions. Who gives her the right to control what her friends do?

  “Will it take a long time to dry?” Cami asks.

  “You should leave it alone for an hour,” I say.

  Amanda shakes her head in disapproval.

  I rummage through my supplies. “I have white henna. It dries instantly—no mess.”

  “OMG, I love white henna,” Cami shrieks. “Natasha, you have to try it. Amanda, you too.”

  “No thanks,” Amanda says, and walks off.

  Cami and Natasha stay behind to get their white henna tattoos. I take care to make sure they’re extra beautiful and even add some glitter. It takes a lot of guts to stand up to Amanda.

  “But they’re the last ones, because I’m all out,” I say to the still-growing line. “Sorry, I don’t have any more henna paste left. Thanks for your donations!”

  Noah helps me get the folding table and everything else in the trunk of Navdeep’s car, and we walk back to the soccer field to watch the last few seconds of the first half.

  During halftime, the players mill around, hydrating and chatting with family and friends; everyone’s waiting for the adoptable-dogs showcase, which will start soon.

  “Hey, Simi.” Teá has an orange slice in one hand and a bottle of cherry Gatorade in the other. She makes a face as she takes a swig from the bottle. “We’re behind,” she says.

  “Only by a goal,” I say. “The good news is that running around on the field has given you a beautiful rosy glow. I bet Ethan noticed.”

  Right on cue, Ethan walks over with a few of his teammates.

  “That was a great goal,” he says to Teá. Praise be to the gods of soccer; he seems more comfortable hanging out with her now. I pump a fist mentally and leave them to it and go find my grandparents.

  Navdeep is sitting with them, chowing down on a samosa. Next to him is Suraj, and seeing him here with my family makes my heart do a little flip. I haven’t talked to Jassi, but I know they went out. That means I shouldn’t be sneaking glances at Suraj, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “This is huge,” he says. “Great turnout.”

  I smile. “It’s even better than we hoped.”

  I’m suddenly conscious of my rumpled Buddy Dog T-shirt, my muddy Converse sneakers, my messier-than-usual bun. I was so focused on seeing Woofstock through, I didn’t think about what I threw on before coming. Maybe I should’ve gone home to get cleaned up, like Noah. He didn’t suggest I change, though, so I think I might look all right.

  “You play soccer?” I ask Suraj, tugging the hair tie holding my messy bun together. I shake my hair around my face. Best I can do at this point.

  “Not at their level,” Suraj says, nodding at the field. He turns back to me and flashes the sunniest smile.

  I’ve been surrounded by people all day, so why does it feel like he’s the first person who’s looked at me? It’s unsettling, but not in a bad way.

  Would it be weird to ask him how it went with Jassi? I mean, I am a matchmaker, after all. I have a professional responsibility. I try to think of a casual way to inquire—one that won’t make me look nosy. Or desperate.

  So did you and Jassi hit it off?

  I hope things are going well with you and your match?

  Please don’t like Jassi too much.

  Argh. Better to stay out of the whole messed-up thing.

  “Simi!” Noah’s running toward me from across the field.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, snapping out of my Suraj trance.

  Noah’s out of breath. He motions to the right.

  I turn, and lock eyes with the icy-blue glare of Amanda Taylor.

  If you cannot arrange a match that a woman has her heart set on, be careful and protect yourself. There will be consequences.

  —THE SHAGUN MATCHMAKING GUIDE

  chapter twenty-five

  Amanda’s gaze passes over Noah and me, then fixes on where Ethan and Teá are sharing orange slices and wedges of watermelon, surrounded by their teammates and a few dogs. Her face is the same shade of pink as her manicure.

  She grabs Cami by the elbow and marches across the grassy field toward Ethan.

  “What is she going to do, tie him up and brand him?” I ask.

  “Whatever she has in mind, it can’t be good.”

  Unfortunately for Amanda, the adoptable-dog showcase is in progress in the middle of the field. She hollers, pushing the pups and their handlers out of her way.

  But karma’s onto her, because the wind catches her pink baseball hat and sails it right off her head. It tumbles over and over across the grass, the sun glinting off the rhinestones spelling out her initials.

  “My hat!” she shrieks as she chases after it.

  She’s caught the attention of about five shelter dogs, who think Chase the Hat is a fun new game. A prancing corgi is the first to break formation. It takes only five seconds before Amanda’s being chased across the soccer field by a frolicking pack of dogs.

  They overtake her easily, pouncing on the hat—and her. They’re drooling all over her as they attack her with doggy kisses. “Let go, you mutt!” she shouts, grabbing the bill of her hat. But she’s never going to win that tug-of-war. Navdeep, Noah, and I collapse on the grass, laughing hysterically. The crowd is cracking up.

  The Buddy Dog handl
ers have treats and squeaky toys on hand and call back the escapees. “Vito, Peanut, get over here!”

  Amanda sits on the field, covered in mud and slobber. Her pink hat’s been chewed and drooled on. Her furious scream echoes across the field as she holds it at arm’s length.

  Teá, brave soul, approaches her. “Are you okay?” she asks, offering a hand.

  “I’m fine!” Amanda snaps.

  “Too bad about the cap, but that stuff will wash out. Trust me, Neva’s drooled on basically everything I own.”

  Amanda drops her hat on the grass. “I’ll never wear it again.”

  Ethan can’t keep the grin off his face. Teá flashes him an amused look.

  “Who set up this game, anyhow?” Amanda hisses. “The dogs are going to ruin the field. Who said this was okay?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Nunez and Principal Pinter,” Ethan says. “But it was Simi’s idea.”

  I flinch at the sound of my name.

  “Simi?” Amanda interrupts. “I thought she just did the flyers.”

  I take three steps back, hiding behind a few spectators. Noah gives me a worried look.

  Mr. Nunez blows his whistle. Mrs. Nunez waves to the players, gesturing for them to get back on the field. Halftime’s up.

  “Oh, got to go,” Teá says. “Game’s on.”

  Amanda stomps back to the bleachers.

  The teams troop onto the field. I find Noah grinning. “That was priceless,” he says.

  “But she’s livid!”

  “Who cares? We needed a laugh, Simi. And a win. This was both!”

  On Monday, Noah and I sit in the lunchroom, looking over the Mayfield Mirror. We’re dressed in Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses because, according to the Spirit Week calendar—brought to you by the worker bees of the Spirit Club—it’s Mahalo Monday.

  “Look at all the pictures from Woofstock! They even have one of Amanda chasing the dog to get her hat,” I say with a laugh. It’s so wrong to find this funny, but I can’t help myself.

  “When do you think Amanda’s going to lose it about us setting Ethan and Teá up?” Noah asks in between bites of his sandwich. “She must assume they’re the product of Matched!, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, uneasy.

  “I mean, no one has ever challenged her before. And she’s never not gotten what she’s wanted. I feel like we’ve got a big fat bull’s-eye on us, especially after she was embarrassed at Woofstock.” His eyes go wide as he looks toward the entrance to the cafeteria. “Uh-oh. She just walked in, and she’s staring right at us.”

  Amanda’s eyes sear me like hot lasers.

  “Relax, Simi. Act normal.” Noah peels a banana and takes a bite. “I mean, what can she do? It’s not like we control the matching algorithm. It’s not like we threw her silly hat to the dogs.” He pauses, his face turning pink. “Oh no.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It seems as if a sudden hush falls over the cafeteria. “Tell me she’s not coming over here,” I hiss at Noah.

  He says nothing.

  That familiar, petulant stomp warns us that trouble’s on the way. I can already see Amanda’s flower-power Docs in my head before she actually appears. And she’s mad, as expected.

  “Simran Sangha.” Amanda’s tone is as sugary as neon cotton candy, and just as fake.

  I turn around, ready for whatever she plans to throw my way. I mean, we’re in the middle of the lunchroom, surrounded by people. Principal Pinter is over by the door chatting with Ms. Furst. What’s the worst that could happen?

  “Yes?” My palms are clammy, but my voice is cool.

  “There’s no point tiptoeing around something like this, so I’ll ask you point-blank. Did you set up Ethan and Teá?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because if you did, I’ve got a big problem with you.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Matched! did. It’s an algorithm that pairs people based on how they answer the quiz questions. Simple as that.”

  “But you wrote the quiz questions,” she counters. “And you must’ve known that I’d want to be matched with Ethan.”

  “I don’t control who gets matched,” I say. “And as far as Ethan goes, it was up to him whether he wanted to explore his matches. Obviously he did.”

  “You ignored my emails. They deserved a response!”

  I set my jaw stubbornly. “It’s a free app. It doesn’t come with customer support.”

  “But you were using it as a tool to break people up. That’s the same as bullying!”

  My jaw drops. “What are you talking about?”

  “Amanda,” Noah says calmly. “No one is bullying you.”

  “Ethan and I are supposed to be together. We were together, until you interfered, Simi, and we were working on getting back together before your stupid app launched.” Amanda points a finger in my face. “Setting him up with that new girl was totally disrespectful!”

  She has to be kidding. There is nothing left between her and Ethan—except in her own head. As Nanima says, it’s impossible to clap with one hand.

  I fold my arms in front of me. “The app is for single people. If someone’s in a relationship, then they shouldn’t be using it. So why was Ethan? Why were you?”

  “If it was a good app, it would put people who are clearly perfect for each other together, not pair them with the worst people for them,” she says. She’s not hearing me; it’s almost like we’re not speaking the same language.

  I pick up my tray and push back my chair. “We’re just going around in circles. I’m done with this conversation.”

  “Good,” she says. And then, ominously, she adds, “Because I’m done, too.”

  She storms off, her hair extensions swishing with every heavy footstep.

  “She’s bananas,” I say as Noah and I walk to the counter to return our lunch trays. “But she’s also really mad. I almost feel like she’s threatening us.”

  “Simi, maybe we should press pause on the app?”

  “No way. Most people think it’s fun and useful,” I say. “She liked it, too, before the Ethan and Teá thing. Why should we delete it because she has a problem with it?”

  “You’re right,” Noah says. “Most people know our intentions were good. Too bad it didn’t work out for Amanda. Maybe it would have, if she’d kept an open mind.”

  “Good point,” I say. “She’s missing out because she refuses to see beyond Ethan.”

  “So Halloween,” Noah says, swapping topics—good, because I’m tired of thinking about Amanda. “Can I come over and help hand out candy at your house?”

  I paste on a smile, but I can’t shake my worries.

  Amanda’s up to something; I can feel it. Problem is, I have no idea what.

  During the next week, a string of weird things happen.

  First, I find my locker door’s been pried open. My mehendi cones have been ripped to shreds, and mehendi paste is smeared all over the inside of my locker. Even worse—my sketchbook is missing.

  I’m devastated. All my creative visions are in my sketchbook.

  I consider reporting the incident to Principal Pinter, but I’m worried about the retaliation snitching might bring. Maybe if I pretend nothing happened, it’ll end here.

  Except it doesn’t. When I go to pull my super-fancy algebra calculator—inherited from Navdeep—from my backpack, I find its screen shattered to bits. My lunch account is hacked, and suddenly there’s a negative balance. My favorite painting from art class, the one of the vase I broke at Jolly’s store, has been ripped from the wall. Ms. Furst apologizes but says she has no idea where it went. And while I’m walking out of school at the end of the week, finally—texting Noah, who left early for a doctor’s appointment, about the endless pranks—I go flying.

  Someone tripped me!

  As I crash onto my hands and knees, my phone careens through the air and smashes facedown onto the concrete. I can’t even reach for it before Amanda stomps on it—on purpose. A few peopl
e see her do it, but they just keep walking. The power of Amanda Taylor, Class President, leader of Spirit Club, School Bully, in full effect. She laughs, does a haughty pageant wave, and keeps on moving.

  I scramble up, examine my skinned knees, and then beeline for my phone. The case is cracked. It was a gift from Preet—a picture of the two of us from when I was little. The screen is grayed out—and it won’t reboot, probably because of the shards of screen glass that are popping out. I blow on it, shake it a bit, anything to try to revive it. But no luck. I even make a quick appeal to Wahe Guru before I hit the power button again. “Come on,” I mutter, but nothing happens.

  I want to toss it right back on the ground and stomp on it myself, but I don’t. Then it blinks and wakes, asking for my pass code. I exhale in relief, counting my blessings. With any luck, it’s still under warranty and I can have the screen replaced. Navdeep will know what to do. Right now I’m just thankful that it’s alive.

  Now I know exactly where I stand with Amanda. Like it or not, it’s on.

  chapter twenty-six

  The next morning, crack of dawn, the house phone starts ringing.

  “Someone pick that up,” Navdeep yells down the hall, piercing even my Saturday-morning sleep-fog. Glancing at my alarm clock, I see it’s only 6:30 a.m. Seriously?

  I groan, bury my head under my pillow, and try to fall back to sleep.

  The phone rings again.

  Sweetie runs up and down the hall, yipping loudly, excited and upset about the early morning commotion.

  “Hello? Hello?” I hear my mom on the phone downstairs. “They’ve hung up again. Third time.”

  A warning bell goes off in my head. I drag myself from my warm, cozy sheets and stumble downstairs.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Phone’s been ringing since five. I know it’s Halloween, but this is ridiculous. No one’s ever pranked us like this before,” Mom says.

  “Did you get the number?” Dad asks. He’s furious. Mom shakes her head no.

  “Maybe it’s from India?” I ask.

  “It’s a crank caller,” Mom says. “I’ve disconnected the phone for now.” She looks around for a minute wondering what to do. “Chai peeyo geh?” she says at last.