The First Life of Vikram Roy (Many Lives Series Book 3)

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Ash drops down beside him and cradles Amar in her lap. "Poor baby … I am so sorry I made you jealous."

  All the fight goes out of me.

  "Ash," I whisper her name.

  She continues whispering softly to the wounded Amar.

  "Ashley!"

  She looks at me when I raise my voice. "WHAT?"

  "What are you doing, Ashley?"

  "Just because we slept together doesn't mean you own me, okay? Besides, I was only doing it to make Amar jealous."

  "That's not true!" She can't mean it. I can barely breathe now. It's as if my heart stops for a second. The world around me fades. Then I gasp, force myself to take a deep breath, and it rights itself again.

  Nothing is going to be right ever again.

  Amar pushes her aside and gets to his feet, swaying. "Didn't you hear her? Keep away from us, okay?"

  "Enough!"

  We turn to see the dorm mother arrive. She takes in the scene in one glance and reprimands us.

  "Go, get yourself to the clinic, Amar, get those wounds looked at." Turning to me, she says. "And you? Vikram? I didn't expect this of you."

  I hate it when she says that, and in that tone of a voice. Boring Vikram. Studious Vikram. Getting into a fight over a girl? How could you, Vikram?

  "Detention it is for you," she scolds.

  "What?" I only half protest. "He started it." I hang my head. Pretend I regret my actions. Right now I don't care if I am grounded. I'm just happy I got my hands on Amar.

  "Oh! He's not escaping either," she says, voice grim. She's smiling as if enjoying a private joke.

  "What do you mean?" I look from her to Amar, staring daggers at me. Ash is still clinging to him as if he is going to die any moment.

  "Don't give him the same detention as me," I plead. But, of course, once more I have no say in this matter. Grown-ups can be bloody vindictive.

  ***

  And so I spend the last month of grade ten scraping chewing gum off the underside of tables and chairs and bannisters and floors—with my now worst enemy, Amar.

  We keep out of each other's way though. Good thing too. The way I feel right now, I just need an excuse to fight him. If only I could get my hands on him. Anger swells inside me, and I force myself to stay calm. It's the first time in my life I feel so helpless. Did Ash really choose him over me? What does she see in him anyway? And all along I thought … What? That she loved me? She did tell me not to fall in love with her, didn't she? I'm sure she did like me a little. But none of that is going to help me. Not now. Not when I am stuck trying to prise off yet another piece of gum stuck to my sneakers.

  Tenzin was right. Girls can come and go, but we boys must stick together. Amar and I got into a fight over Ash, and here we are paying for it. While she …? She wanders around the school, free.

  I am now so intimately associated with various blobs of gum in all shapes and form that I even dream of chewing gum in my sleep.

  I swear I'll never chew gum

  Or ever crush on someone else's girlfriend.

  Or ever fall so hard for any girl again.

  Famous last words.

  What I don't know is that when a certain other angry young girl comes into my life, she is going to turn it upside down in a way I cannot even imagine now. But I have a little more growing up to do before that.

  SIXTEEN

  Stumbling across Tenzin right in the middle of the Korean vs Bhutanese gang clash left me wondering if I know my roomie at all. Is he the angry Tenzin I saw that day, ready to beat up another boy? The chilled-out Tenzen who likes to spend days in a stoned-out haze? Or this Tenzin—the guitar stringing rock star that all the girls love?

  Is he all three?

  Guess I'll never know.

  Since I came back from my summer holidays, we've been tiptoeing around each other. We share the same room, but that's about it. It's a bit tiring this … and difficult to pretend the other person doesn't exist when that person is your roomie and forever in your face.

  I left home and all its problems, only to come back to a sullen flatmate. It's as if the usual tension and drama between Mum and Dad is now playing out between Tenzin and me. No, I don't like this at all. I have to make peace with him. I want my friend back. I want things to go back to the way they were.

  So, when he invites me to watch him perform with his new rock band, I jump at it. I accept his peace offering and go along with him to where his band is playing at a local pub. It's not really a pub. More like a hole-in-the-wall bar. It serves cheap booze and is popular with backpacking tourists and the students. It's the only venue in this little town where aspiring bands can jam.

  It's packed when I walk in. Students—mostly girls—pack the small tables. Others mill around in the corners. I shuffle into position at the back of the small room. The band, Messengers of Death, (how original!), are already into the second song of their set. The four boys and one girl wear ripped skinny jeans, chains, cut-off T-shirts, and long hair. They look exotic, mean, and just a little bit dangerous. Tenzin's on the guitar, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes are closed and he continuously strums the guitar. He seems in his own world.

  He is in his own world, for his guitar grooves at a completely different pitch. The drummer doesn't keep pace and the vocalist—the girl— can barely be heard over the noise. Five minutes in and I can't stand this assault on my ears anymore. Not that it matters. The girls are here just to mooch over the boys and the backpackers are too busy getting tanked up on the cheap alcohol. The band on stage is just background noise.

  I buy myself a beer—no problem getting served here even if you are underage. And I wait there. I wish I smoked or something. Anything to keep my other hand occupied. I push it into my pocket and take a gulp of the beer. It's stale and flat and warm. Tastes like piss, not that I have tasted piss in my life ... but it's really bad. I can't drink this. I look around and notice a couple in the far corner. They're kissing.

  The boy's tall, and shape of his shoulders looks familiar. He moves a little, and long brown-blonde hair peeks out. She drops her hands from around his neck, and they turn so I see her face. Ash. And Amar.

  I want to turn and leave. Instead I stay and sip the stale beer, not even noticing the taste this time.

  She leans up on tiptoe and kisses him. The kiss goes on, and on. Do they know I am watching? Is it all for me? He wraps a hand around her waist, shoves his hand under the back of the T-shirt, and half lifts her up. They break apart, and she looks past him, around him, and straight at me.

  I don't look away. I just hold her eyes. Raise my beer glass at her. She flushes and drops her eyes. She whispers something to Amar, who turns around and looks at me. His eyebrows drop down to meet in the centre of his forehead. He frowns, takes a step forward and is stopped by her. She whispers to him again. Then she walks past him, towards me. Amar follows her with his eyes, but he doesn't move.

  "Vikram," She says, unsmiling.

  "Ashley." I nod and gulp more beer. I look past her. Look at the stage and take a deep breath. Mixed with the cigarette smoke, wet carpet, and unwashed human bodies is a faint whiff of oranges and chocolate. My stomach tightens with desire. Damn, I still want her. I grip the glass tighter, so the plastic cup crumples a little. I look at her properly, meet her eyes now.

  "Well? What do you want?" My voice comes out low, harsh. But I sound controlled. Good.

  "I'm sorry Vik," she says

  That floors me. It's the last thing I expected her to say. Not sure what to say next, I look down into my glass, but I don't say anything.

  "Look at me." Her voice is soft, caressing. I can barely hear the words above the clanging of the music. I want to hate her, but can't. I'm still half in love with her. I stare into those deep pools of blue. Her long brown eyelashes.

  "Didn't mean to hurt you, you know," she adds.

  "But you did." I say it in a quiet voice.

  My insides are churning. I want to yell at her. Shout. Ask her w
hy she prefers him to me. I will not show any of it. Instead, I look for the ice inside me. Pull it over my eyes. My face. So she can't see what she is doing to me.

  "I was confused, you know," she pleads. Her tongue flicks out, touches her lips. "I really like you," she says.

  "Do you? I can't see it from where I am." I'm not going to make it easy for her.

  "You make me feel … good, Vik. I feel safe with you."

  What am I? Her brother? I laugh a little.

  "Good? That's it? Well I don't feel that good. You led me on. Used what I felt for you. Used it against me." I can't hide the bitterness in my voice.

  "It's not that, Vik ... I was confused. You know. I really do like you. It's just, just …" She hesitates, an uncertain look in her eyes. She blinks; swallows, and her eyes skitter away.

  I watch her throat move. That lovely, soft, shimmery skin of hers.

  "It wasn't enough, was it?" The plastic glass in my hand crumples completely, spilling the remaining beer over me, but I don't notice.

  "Well, Amar …" She looks over her shoulder. A quick glance. Sudden. On her face is a look of … fear? Adoration? She half hero-worships him.

  "You're afraid of him, aren't you?" I ask suddenly.

  "Of course not …" Her eyes go wide. She seems frightened. Confused. "But … but he's so good-looking. Isn't he?" she says.

  "Is that all that matters?" Of course, that's all it's about.

  She doesn't reply, just bites down on her lips and hugs herself a little. She looks so uncomfortable. I feel sad, feel sorry for her. She's too taken by Amar. She can't really see me. She's never seen me. I take pity on her.

  "He's waiting for you, Ashley," I say.

  "Uh—?" My sudden change of subject takes her off guard. What did she expect? That I would plead with her to stay?

  "Go Ash." I look away; look back at the stage I can't see. The noise around me fades. There's white static in my ears. A fog descends over my eyes. I stay staring. Will not look as she moves away. Let her go.

  Come back. Come back, Ash, I want to scream.

  ***

  After the jam session I walk back with the band to the dorm. Me and Tenzin lead the way, through the winding Himalayan roads. It's quiet, and so dark we can barely see a few feet in front of us. The October chill seeps into our bones. Tenzin hands over the whisky bottle and I take a swig, letting the liquid burn down my throat. It warms me up. Tenzin can always be trusted to provide the right medicine at the right time. He staggers against me and I put my arm around his shoulders to steady him.

  The stench of stale beer shoots off him. He's been swigging it all night and now it's as if he's dragging the bar with him wherever we go. I feel sober. Too sober. Stone cold sober. I tilt the bottle and take another healthy gulp. It fires up my insides, only wakes me up more.

  "Girls!" he slurs. "Never trust them, bro. Never. We're better off without them."

  I don't say anything. Just let him talk.

  "That Ash … I knew she was never serious about you. Should have warned you. Now look at you. Broken heart and all."

  I can't deny that. Though she'd made it clear earlier that she preferred Amar to me, only now, after our earlier conversation, does it feel like we are really breaking up. Not that we were ever together. Not like that, at least. I don't say anything, not aloud, and Tenzin continues talking.

  "I hate girls," he says aloud. It's all for my benefit of course.

  "You should talk," I finally say. "You've got them lined around the block, following you everywhere."

  "That's the problem, too many of them. How do I choose? Anyway, I'd rather hang with you. I missed you, bro!" He hugs me, and, to my surprise, sobs. Deep, wounded, from-the-soul sobs that are wrenched out only when you're drunk and almost senseless. So gone that you don't care about hiding anymore. You can show your real feelings without worrying you're making a fool of yourself.

  "Yeah, I missed you too." I hug him back.

  So that's how Tenzin and I made up. We stay friends all through the rest of our time at boarding school, and later. Friends for life, and in death.

  SIXTEEN

  Tenzin bursts into our room where I am doing my homework. "Hey Vik, your dad's here to see you," he says panting in excitement.

  "No way, you kidding?"

  "Nope, he's there in the visitor area. They asked me to come get you."

  Dad, here? So suddenly? Has something happened? An accident? A death? No, no. Worse. They're getting a divorce.

  I spring out of my seat and run down two floors, ducking among those playing basketball in the Quad and into the main building. Passing the main reception, I run to the visitor room, stopping only when I reach the entrance. It's Dad all right. His back is turned to me and he is staring out the window.

  He turns as I enter. "Vikram!"

  His face seems normal and he even smiles at me. I let myself relax then. Running to him, I hug him firmly. I am as tall as his six feet two inches, having put on a growth spurt in the last few months. He feels strong, his muscles firm against my bony arms.

  "You're so skinny. Aren't you eating at all?" He ruffles my hair.

  "Of course I am, Dad. I can't seem to get enough food inside me before I burn it all off though."

  "Thank your stars. Wait till you get to be my age." He pats his still-flat stomach below the buttoned-down white shirt.

  "A tie, Dad?" Dad loves his suits, but I rarely see him in a tie.

  "Work. I was in the vicinity, thought I'd drop in."

  I laugh. "Right. Like drop up almost 3,000 feet above sea level."

  "I wanted to see you, Vik." He leads me to the sofa.

  Something in his voice makes me look at him closely. His face is gaunter that I remember, and his eyes look tired. For the first time I notice the greys at his temples. In Dad's case it just makes him look a little more dashing.

  "When I grow up I want to be just like you, Dad." I am not sure where that came from, but I mean it.

  "It's nice you haven't yet turned into a sulky teen." He smiles but there seems to be a sad edge to it. "You are a far better person than me."

  "Dad, please," I say, taken aback by the praise.

  "Anyway, look, I came here to give you this." He hands over the black leather briefcase he is carrying.

  "What's this?"

  "I need you to keep it for me, Vik."

  "Of course I will … but what's in it, Dad?"

  "Open it when the time comes."

  "You are not making any sense, Dad."

  "You'll know when it's the right time." Placing his hands over mine, he squeezes it firmly.

  "You're scaring me now." I look at him worriedly. "Is everything okay at work?"

  He nods.

  "Are you off on another crazy spy assignment you can't tell us anything about?"

  He nods again, a small smile on his face. I know better than to ask what the mission is about.

  "If something happens to me …"

  "Dad, honestly. You always say that and scare me." It's true though. Before every assignment, Dad's always turned to me and made me promise to look after the family if anything happens to him. I should be used to it by now. But each time he takes on another assignment, fear strikes me anew. It's as if he has lived through so many deaths in one lifetime.

  "If something happens to me, I want you to promise that you'll still go to Oxford and complete your degree."

  "Oxford?"

  "You are applying there, aren't you?"

  I nod. "But there's no guarantee I'll get in."

  "You will." He drops his hand to his side and leans back against the sofa before loosening his tie. He suddenly looks his age. Dad's only fifty. But the tilt of the light just then darkens the hollows below his cheeks, bringing out the fine lines on his forehead.

  "Promise you'll go to Oxford and complete your education regardless of what happens."

  "What's going to happen, Dad?"

  "Nothing." He grins, shakes his head, and w
ith that, the dark cloud that had threatened to cloak us for a few seconds is dispelled.

  He slaps me on the back and gets to his feet. "Nothing at all. But I just wanted you to know; all the financial arrangements have been made. When you get admitted to Oxford, if for some reason I am unreachable, just speak to my lawyer and he will release all the money you need."

  He pulls out a card and hands it over. I pocket it without looking at it.

  "Why would I speak to a lawyer, anyway, when I have you?"

  "Of course you come to me first … But if I am on assignment and you need access to funds …" He lets the words hang in the air.

  "Dad, what—?"

  He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. "Come on, I need a beer."

  I walk out the door with him, just as my English teacher passes by. "Vikram." She greets me before her eyes pass my dad and back to his face.

  "And this is?"

  "Dad … Meet Ms Hermes, my English teacher."

  I can already see from the glazed look in Hermes' eyes that she finds Dad attractive. He's always had this effect on women.

  I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to be like him, to be able to turn on that charisma whenever I needed it. Now that would be a real gift.

  SIXTEEN

  Lose a girl. Fall in love with a game. Fair exchange?

  I do miss my weekly cricket sessions with Ash. I got to be better than her at the game a long time ago. The only reason I kept turning up for practice was to see her. Thanks to her, I discovered a love for cricket. One that would last a lifetime. As it turns out, I am a far better player than her … Or Amar. Good enough to make it to the school's official cricket team. Of course, it helps that while everyone wants to get into the basketball team, not many want to go for the cricket team. But I'm not complaining. I'll take any opportunity I can to play the game.