The mention of tea is enough to calm Dad’s temper.
“Well, we’re up, so we may as well all have some chai,” he says. “But I should report the calls to the police.”
Mom looks over at me. “Go back to bed, beta.”
“I’m wide awake now.” And my stomach’s all in knots. I’m guessing this might have something to do with the app and Amanda. In fact, I’m pretty sure it does. Maybe I should tell Mom, Masi, and Nanima about the app, even though it’s still under review at school? No, it’s better to wait until the review is behind us.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Dad says, starting to whistle the tune that plays before the cricket test matches he likes to watch.
“Who wants breakfast?” Mom says, pulling the eggs out of the fridge, along with the other ingredients for her signature masala omelets: chopped green chilies, coriander, and red onions.
She’s whipping up the first batch when Nanima comes down, looking bright and fresh, just out of the shower. She never comes downstairs without bathing, even if the rest of us are lounging around in pj’s.
“Good morning, everyone!” she says. “Who was that on the phone? India di call si?”
Mom shakes her head and motions her toward the kitchen table, but Nani doesn’t sit. She automatically takes over on the chai duty, adding ginger and cloves to the pot, along with loose black tea. I start on toast—whole wheat and sourdough—and set out the jam and butter.
We sit down to breakfast—with Nanoo and Navdeep still upstairs. Despite the early wake-up, my parents and Nani are in good moods.
“It’ll be fun to go to a family wedding again,” Mom says, beaming. “Preet will make a lovely bride, and Jolly is a good fellow.”
She raises her eyebrows when I crack up.
After a few minutes, Navdeep comes downstairs and pours himself a cup of chai.
“How are the essays going?” Mom asks.
“Fine.”
“Are you done with MIT? And UChicago?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Rutgers?”
“Done.”
“What about Prince—”
“Mom, Princeton is a single-choice early-action college. I can’t apply there if I’m applying early action to four other schools. Look, I’m on top of my list. Don’t worry about it. I really just wanted to sleep, but the stupid phone wouldn’t let me!”
“I unplugged it,” Mom says.
Dad walks over to the landline and experimentally plugs it back in. It starts ringing again instantly. He looks at the caller ID, lifts the receiver off the handset, and sets it back down. The phone rings again. This time, Mom grabs the receiver from Dad’s hand.
“Hello?” She sounds louder and ruder than normal. “Oh? Of course! Simi, it’s for you.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Teá,” Mom says, then whispers, “Who’s Teá?”
“Hey, Teá,” I say, grabbing the phone from Mom’s hand. A friend, I mouth, then take the phone upstairs to my room.
“Simi!” Teá says, clearly upset. “I tried your cell but it keeps going to voice mail.”
“Yup, I haven’t had a chance to get it fixed yet. What’s wrong?”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing.” Teá’s voice cracks.
“What? Why?”
“There are rumors. About you and Aiden. All over social media.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, they took some down already. I reported them. And so did Jassi and the others. But it’s getting worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything was fine until yesterday,” she says. “And then—bam! They started messing with me, like, seriously!”
“Who?” I ask, bracing for the worst.
“Amanda and her friends.”
Oh no. It is the worst.
“What did they do?”
“Stole my brand-new soccer cleats from my locker,” Teá says, a sob catching in her throat. “They’re hanging from the top of the school flagpole. The custodian will try and get them down over the weekend—they might need a fire truck. And that’s not the worst of it! They TP-ed our yard. Everyone in our neighborhood is stopping by to ask what happened. It’s so embarrassing! And we have to go out and pick it all up in front of our new neighbors before it blows all over our street.”
“That’s awful,” I say. “I think they’ve been prank calling me all morning.”
“Me too. It’s so crazy,” Teá says. “I can’t keep hanging out with Ethan if it’s going to be like this. I can’t go out with him tonight. I can’t even talk to him anymore. I won’t.”
“He asked you out for tonight?”
“Yes.” I can hear a reluctant smile in her voice. “But I’m going to tell him no.”
“Teá, don’t let her win.”
“She already has. My parents are freaking out. We didn’t move to Mayfield to be harassed. I’m serious about soccer, Simi. I like Ethan, but this is too much drama. It’s getting in the way of everything else.”
“None of this is Ethan’s fault, though. You guys are good together. Why would you let someone like Amanda spoil what you have—what you could have? You can’t let her do this.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. And then: “Maybe you’re right.”
“Amanda doesn’t own Ethan.”
“Hang on, Simi.… What?” Teá’s voice fades away from the phone. She’s clearly talking to someone in her house now. “Sorry,” she says, getting back on the line. “My mom’s calling for me. Ethan came by to help with toilet-paper cleanup. That’s so sweet of him. I’ve gotta go.”
After she hangs up, I dial Noah’s number. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of any bullying at school, but if Amanda’s been torturing Teá and me through the phone, she may be calling Noah’s house, too.
“Yeah, stay off social media. I mean, nobody believes the rumors but…” Noah’s voice rises a bit. “You don’t need to see that.”
Maybe I do, though. Or maybe Navdeep can just zap them away before my mom hears about them from the auntie network.
“I’ve got nothing much to report,” he says, and I can hear him yawning. “There were a few prank calls and a couple of weird messages on our voice mail. Nothing like what’s happening to Teá. Or you.”
“Amanda’s lost it,” I say. “Noah, you know how you were planning on coming over tonight?”
“You want me to come now?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Dad’s watching cricket. Navdeep’s barricaded himself in his room. Mom, Nanoo, and Nanima are going to gurdwara. I have homework, but maybe we could watch K-dramas and study together, at least until the Halloween festivities start.”
I’ll feel much better with Noah around.
“I’ll be there soon,” he says.
By the time he arrives, I’ve found us a Korean drama to watch on Netflix. Nothing like binge-watching a new series to take your mind off crappy stuff. By lunch, our homework’s done and we switch into Halloween mode. My social media feeds are full of friends in costume. The cutest are the couples in matching costumes. Rebecca is a petite Doctor Who in a bow tie and jacket, and Hasina is a giant blue TARDIS with a blinking blue light on her head. Marcus is a pumpkin and Kiran is wearing a π T-shirt. Pumpkin pi. I can even see Kiran’s mom in the background in one of the pictures, so I guess they’ve talked about Marcus.
Nothing from Ethan and Teá, though, at least not on social media.
Noah and I watch a Halloween makeup tutorial on his computer. We’ve decided to be zombies, and our makeup is going to be epic. Noah has everything we need, from pale white face paint to blood and gore. He does his own makeup first, then goes to work on me. When he’s finished, I tilt my hand mirror toward my face. I look totally undead!
“You like?” he asks.
I’m grinning—the most cheerful zombie ever. “It’s the greatest thing ever!”
The doorbell rings.
“Simi, ple
ase get the door,” Mom yells.
Noah and I clatter downstairs and open the door to a trio of Disney princesses as high as our knees. “Trick or treat!” they chorus.
When the doorbell rings again, it’s Ethan and Teá and their dogs.
“You guys look great!” Noah says. Ethan is a swashbuckling Han Solo, and Teá is Leia. Even their dogs are adorable, as Yoda and R2-D2.
“I wanted to tell you thanks for talking me down earlier,” Teá says. “That’s why we walked over to your house. You’re a great friend, Simi, and you and Noah are excellent matchmakers.” She’s practically glowing. Ethan grins, showing no sign of the nerves that stopped him from talking to Teá a couple weeks ago.
“So you guys are good?”
“Absolutely fine,” Ethan says, squeezing Teá’s hand.
After they go, Noah says, “They seem super happy together. Totally worth getting a few prank calls.”
I have to agree.
chapter twenty-seven
Despite how much fun Halloween ended up being, I toss and turn all night, dreaming up new ways Amanda might harass my friends and me. It is such a relief when light filters through my window Sunday morning. I rush to get ready and bounce down the stairs bright and early, thankful that my app-admin days are over. Navdeep’s done with his college applications, and he’s game to handle the app review we have scheduled with Ms. Pinter and Mr. Wall on Monday. Between my brother, Noah, and me, we have a presentation prepared, one that will explain the app in a well-thought-out way. Navdeep will convince school officials that everything is safe and under control. Just like he zapped those rumors on social media away before anyone heard a peep. Though he saved the screenshots as receipts.
He will, right?
When I get downstairs to the kitchen, Navdeep’s up, dressed, shaved, and looking very serious. “What exactly do they want to see from us?” he asks, his voice crackling with stress. His laptop is open on the countertop, and he isn’t eating his blueberry waffle, a very bad sign. “They’ve been in our system already as users. They’ve seen everything. This means we won’t be able to walk them through the app ourselves and show it in the best light.”
“What do you mean?” I push my plate away, too. The usually delicious smell of Nanima’s signature suji wala halwa is doing nothing but making me nauseous.
“You know how we check that all the new accounts have a verified Mayfield High email address?”
“Yeah. Did someone get in without one?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“Teachers have Mayfield High email addresses, too,” Navdeep says. “We never checked to see if emails belonged to students or teachers. Mr. Wall opened an account and got approved when he verified his email. He’s been in the app and seen everything. I can see his usage stats. It’s like following his digital footsteps. He’s seen the quizzes, the profiles, the match stats.”
“What’s going to happen now, Navdeep?”
“Nothing, I hope.”
“So when we go over the review, they’ll have all the information we have?”
“Exactly. It’ll be completely open and transparent,” he says. “May not be a bad thing. Shows them we didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to see if I can talk to Wally. He loves me.” Mr. Wall has been the robotics adviser for all four years that Navdeep has been in the club. “I’ll go in early tomorrow and see if I can find him. Don’t worry, Simi.”
I tell Noah about our little hiccup the next morning while we’re walking to school.
“Mr. Wall opened an account. He has a Mayfield High email address. All teachers do. So he got confirmed, and he’s seen everything. Probably shown Pinter, too.”
“It’s a good thing we’ve got nothing to hide,” Noah says. “If they make us shut Matched! down, I’ll be bummed, but I’ll recover.”
“Same, I guess.”
“Hey, but we did what we set out to do—something meaningful. We got people to get out of their boxes so they could find someone they really connect with. Look at Kiran and Marcus. Look at Ethan and Teá. And there are plenty more pairs still getting to know each other. Plus, you got some experience in matchmaking, experience that’ll hopefully help you figure out what the future holds. The app’s a success, Simi.”
I’m not completely sure.
“Let’s just focus on putting our best foot forward with Pinter and Wall,” I say.
We’re supposed to meet them at noon. I brought the Shagun guide for luck. Let’s hope it works one last time.
“Mr. Wall has been showing me some screenshots of the Matched! app,” Ms. Pinter says to my brother as we walk through the media center in the library. “Can you confirm that you, Simi, and Noah are the people behind this app?”
“Yes,” Navdeep says.
“Were any school resources used in the development and running of the app?” she says, waving toward a bank of computers.
“No.” Navdeep stops and frowns in consideration. The library? But that wasn’t for the development of the app, and it’s not like we depleted a school resource by suggesting people have conversations within the stacks. “No,” Navdeep repeats firmly.
“So I’d like to have a better understanding of how the app works and what, exactly, students experience as they use it,” Ms. Pinter says.
“Well, you could try taking the quiz yourself,” Navdeep says. “That’s probably the best way to get an idea of how it works.”
“So I sign up by providing my school email address,” Ms. Pinter says, tapping her phone’s screen.
“Then I approve your account,” Navdeep says.
“Then I take the quiz,” Ms. Pinter says, focused on the app. “Hmm, interesting question… This one relates to academic integrity.”
She must be on the question that talks about cheating on tests. We had questions about doping in sports and taking people’s ideas in art or writing. Aiden probably lied on that one, come to think of it. Mom’s right: People aren’t always honest in interviews, online or off.
“Done,” Ms. Pinter says. “It says I’m an… owl? Why am I green, though?”
“You’re environmentally responsible,” I explain. “According to your quiz answers.”
“Oh.” She pushes back her glasses in a pleased gesture. “Accurate. What happens next?”
“We run the match program, and it gives you your top five matches.… You have… four very weak matches… and one strong match!”
“You can’t match me with the students, Navdeep. That’s inappropriate.”
“That’s all the data we have, and you wanted to experience what the kids see.”
“Nevertheless!”
“Don’t worry—your strong match is Mr. Wall,” Navdeep says.
“What?” Ms. Pinter says, swiveling her head to look at Mr. Wall.
“He started an account this weekend,” Navdeep says, also glancing at Mr. Wall, who’s been standing quietly beside Ms. Pinter. “Apparently you have a shared interest in Shakespeare and early American sci-fi. This is useful, actually. I can put you in intro mode and walk you through the next step.… Mr. Wall, did you get a notification?”
Mr. Wall clears his throat. “I did. It gives me a Dewey decimal call number for a book. Another impressive innovation, if I may say so.”
“Thanks, Mr. Wall,” Noah says.
“And if I may observe,” Mr. Wall says, looking at Ms. Pinter, “the measures these young people took to protect the safety of their peers are also impressive.”
“I see that, Mr. Wall,” Ms. Pinter says.
We watch them head toward the Political Science section. They look at their phones and then at each other. They’re ten feet apart, then two. They have their heads together, looking at their phones and talking.
Are they laughing?
“Is it me or are they weirdly cute together?” Noah asks.
“I think Pinter is single,” I say.
“Wall is for sure,” Navdeep says. “Guys? Do you thin
k we’ve managed to set up our principal and Mr. Wall?”
“Somehow I think we’re going to pass this review,” Noah says smugly.
He isn’t wrong.
“Navdeep, Simi, Noah,” Ms. Pinter says when she and Mr. Wall return to the table. “Based on Mr. Wall’s findings and what I’ve observed today, your app does not appear to be a problem. In fact, I’m pleased that you’ve considered your classmates and their well-being so thoroughly. However, I must continue to insist that the app is not used on school grounds, which includes this library. And should Matched! become a problem—should I find that it violates the Code of Conduct in any way—there will be serious consequences. For now, congratulations on its success.”
It’s free period for Noah and me, so we stay in the library after Pinter and Wall leave.
“We’ve done it, Simi,” Noah says. “We passed the review. We took a risk, and it paid off.”
“You’re right,” I say, grinning. “I’m proud of us! But you know all the stuff we’ve been putting off because Matched! was so much work? Maybe we should tackle some of that now.”
“Like what?” Noah asks. The library is nearly empty, and it’s nice to sit at our favorite table by the window.
“Like… Connor?”
Noah scrunches up his face, then smiles an embarrassed smile. “If I tell you about Connor, will you tell me about Suraj?”
“Sure.” I can’t believe he’s ready to talk. Finally! I put away my books and sit facing him in my best listening pose. “You first.”
“Okay. So you know how we’ve been lab partners in chemistry?”
“Yeah.”
“We have a massive report to write that’s due next week. Connor asked me to come over to his house so we can work on it together.”
“You should obviously go,” I say. “Could be a good way to get to know him better. That way you’ll know for sure if you—”
“Oh, I like Connor,” Noah says in a rush. “Like, like Connor…” He shrugs and gives me a shy smile. “I don’t need to figure that out. I know already. He’s smart and sweet and so good-looking. There, I said it! But I’m not sure he sees me that way. It’s hard, crushing on someone when you’re not sure if they’re into you, you know? The only way out of this is to talk about it, but I have no idea how to do that. Is he into guys? Is he into me? I could make a complete mess of it.”
A Match Made in Mehendi Page 17