“Right.” Abba nods. “Did something else happen?”
“Well …” I look out the window, at the rain rolling down the glass. It’s coming down much harder than it was this morning, and I can hear the raindrops hit the gravel of the road. “The other week … when you asked me to take my friends canvassing … I don’t know what happened. I shouldn’t have listened to them, but … I guess, I let them talk me into not doing it. I thought I’d make up for it later, but I … didn’t.” It sounds worse when I say it. I can barely get the words out. Because I’m not even sure who’s to blame here.
For a moment, there’s only silence inside the car, punctuated by the sound of the rain outside. When I glance at Abba, he’s staring straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Abba … I’m sorry.” My voice comes out in a whisper. Abba just shakes his head slowly. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“So, when Salim said that nobody canvassed around his house, it was because of you and your friends,” Abba finally says. There’s a strange calmness to his voice that fills me with dread.
“Yeah … probably,” I say. “I shouldn’t have listened to my friends that day. I know. I know I let you down. I know that—”
“If Salim finds out about this,” Abba cuts me off, “do you know how this will look for me? I’ve been telling him, telling everyone, that my family have been supporting me throughout this entire election campaign. I’ve been singing your praises, talking about everything that you’ve done for me and the campaign. But you’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
“Only about this,” I say. “I haven’t lied about anything else. And Salim Uncle never has to find out, nobody does. I just … I wanted to tell you because I know you’re worried about what’s going to happen with this election and … I know I should have been better.”
Abba shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe the words coming out of my lips. “I know you’ve been having trouble with your friends, Hani. But I thought you were better than this.”
“That’s not fair,” I say. “You’ve been lying too.” At this, Abba’s gaze finally snaps to me, his eyebrows scrunched together as he takes me in.
“You said that if Salim Uncle finds out that I’ve lied it’ll look bad but … what about you? You’ve spent all this time lying to him and pretending that you’re someone you’re not. Going to the mosque every other day, when you and Amma never went to the mosque before this. You’ve been trying to get votes from the Muslim community, but you don’t even care about them and what they want.” I’m not sure where all of that comes from, but suddenly it’s all out there. Abba is still looking at me, but I can’t meet his eyes. Suddenly, this car feels uncomfortably warm, and the silence inside it is deafening.
“I said … I am sorry,” I finally say in a whisper, though it doesn’t feel like much. The guilt is twisting in my gut but so is a bite of anger that I didn’t even know I was carrying with me all this time. After all, aren’t all of the things I’ve said true? I’m not the only person who’s been pretending for the past few weeks. “I’m trying to make things right, Abba. But you … if you win this election, your lie will just continue on. Salim Uncle and the rest of them … they won’t know that you were never winning for them—you were doing it for yourself.”
I watch as Abba takes one deep, long breath. Then he pulls the keys out of the car’s ignition, clicks open the door and steps outside into the pouring rain. He doesn’t even wait for me to get out. Instead, he walks up to the house and pulls the front door open, disappearing inside.
There are tears fighting their way through me, but I blink them back. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I check the notifications, I see that I finally have another new message in our group chat.
Deirdre: my parents don’t really support your dad’s policies so nope.
And somehow that clears up my tears, unclogs my throat of the lump that’s been slowly rising throughout my entire conversation with Abba. Because finally—finally—I know exactly what I have to do. And maybe I’m angry enough now to actually do it.
chapter forty-one
ishu
IT’S DIFFICULT TO NOT THINK ABOUT HANI WHEN I seem to spot her everywhere in school. After the past few weeks, I know her schedule inside out. I know what classes she has, when and where. I know all the times she goes to her locker, and I even know her favorite spots on the school grounds for when she doesn’t want to spend lunch with Aisling and Deirdre.
I know that I should try to avoid her, put her out of my mind. But I can’t help staring at Hani when we’re at our lockers between classes, or watching her from the window overlooking the tree she loves sitting underneath during lunchtime.
There have been way too many times that I’ve almost run up to her, to tell her everything happening with Nik and my parents, or all my plans for the Head Girl elections. I’ve always stopped myself at the last moment.
Because no matter how I feel about Hani, it doesn’t change that she’s still friends with Aisling and Dee. That she’ll never stand up to them. She’ll never choose me over them. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.
I wake up on the weekend determined to get everything back on track. Everything with Hani, Aisling, and Deirdre has made me lose sight of what’s really important: Head Girl, Leaving Cert, getting into the best possible university.
When I call Nik on Saturday morning, she picks up after just two rings.
“Do you ever sleep in?” Nik groans as a greeting.
“Sometimes,” I say. “But not the week before the Head Girl election campaign!”
Nik heaves a sigh. “Of course not.”
“Look … I need your help. I want to win this thing, okay? And now it’s going to be more difficult than ever. I don’t have the popular girls on my side—in fact, I’m pretty sure Aisling’s new goal is to ruin my fucking life … but I need to win. You need to help me.”
There’s the sound of rustling on Nik’s end of the line, and the creak of the bed. I try to picture her shifting around in her bed, but it’s tough when I have no idea what her bedroom even looks like. I’ve never been to visit Nik in London, and now I’m not sure if Ammu and Abbu will let me.
“Ishu …” Nik finally says. “You know that I lost Head Girl, right? They didn’t even make me deputy Head Girl. I don’t think I’m the person you want helping you.” She says it like there’s a line of people waiting to help me and I just happened to choose her. Like she isn’t the only person right now who I can ask for help. But saying that will definitely make me sound pathetic—even if Nik is my sister and probably already knows I’m a bit pathetic, especially after she had to rush down here to sort out all my problems. I definitely don’t want to remind her of it, though.
So I just say, “Please?” and to my surprise, she actually begrudgingly agrees to help me.
“So, tomorrow … we have to make a presentation to our year about why we want to be Head Girl, and why we’re the most qualified candidate for the job,” I say. “I was thinking I’ll just go up and … talk.”
There’s a pause on the phone line, before all I can hear is Nik’s giggles.
“And what? You’re planning to win them over with your charming smile and personality?”
“I can be nice to people,” I say. “I’ve learned how to tolerate the people in my year. Hani … taught me. I’ve been to parties with them. I’ve had conversations with them.”
Nik is still laughing. “Like … actual conversations? Not just glaring at them as they try to talk to you?”
“No, actual conversations!” I say. “Though … obviously things are different now that Hani and I are broken up and … everyone thinks I’ve cheated.”
That, at least, sobers Nik up a little. “Well, then this presentation is the perfect time for you to set the record straight. Tell everyone the truth … you didn’t cheat! The teachers know the truth—they’ll back you up.”
I know Nik is rig
ht, but I also know Aisling. She’ll find a way to twist everything around to make me out to be the bad guy.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Look … I can help you put something together,” Nik says. “We can do a digital presentation. A PowerPoint of why Aisling is a bitch.”
I have to stifle a laugh. “Okay … a PowerPoint … that’s a good idea. I can prove why I would do a good job as Head Girl. I can show all of the things I’ve already done … “But I’m having a hard time trying to think of anything I’ve done that proves I would be a good Head Girl. Sure, I consistently have the best results in the school, and with Hani’s help I’ve almost become acquaintances with people in our year that I never would have spoken to before. But … does any of that show I can be a good Head Girl?
“Ishu? Hello? Did the line cut out?”
I shake my head. “No, everything’s fine. Just … thinking, I guess. About Monday.”
“No point thinking about Monday when we’re not prepared for it yet. Come on, open up your laptop. Let’s get started.” So, with one hand holding my phone up to my ear, I open up my laptop and Nik and I get to work.
chapter forty-two
hani
I SLIP INSIDE ONLY LONG ENOUGH TO GRAB AN UMBRELLA before stepping out into the rain once more. I catch the bus that drops me off right in front of Aisling’s house, and all the while I’m thinking up all of the things I have to say to her and Dee that I’ve kept to myself. Conversations that I’ve practiced in my head for far too long but never dared to speak out loud to them.
By the time I ring the doorbell, I’m revved up. I’m angrier than I’ve felt in a long time.
But then the front door swings open and Aisling’s mom is standing in the doorway. Her face lights up at the sight of me.
“Humaira,” she says, reaching forward and pulling me indoors. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.” She throws her arms around me, like she always does when we see each other. I can feel my anger slowly dissipate. Suddenly, all I can think of is the fact that I’ve known Aisling since I was a little kid. We’ve sat next to each other all the way from junior infants to now. Am I really going to throw all that away?
“Aisling and Deirdre are upstairs,” Mrs. Mahoney says.
I climb up the stairs slowly, listening to the hum of Aisling and Dee’s voices coming from behind her closed bedroom door and to the sound of my heart beating way too loud in my chest.
When I finally knock on the door, Dee throws it open.
“Oh, you’re here,” she says, like she’s been expecting me this whole time. She steps aside and I step into the bedroom.
Aisling is sitting cross-legged on her bed with her phone in her hand. “Maira, finally,” she says as if I’ve kept her waiting. “If we hadn’t seen you this weekend, Dee and I would have had to send out a search party or something.”
I cross my arms over my chest. There are still a million things I want to say to Aisling—to both her and Dee—but the words somehow get stuck in my throat, refusing to come out.
“Dee and I were just talking about how Ishita humiliated me. We’re going to come up with a way to do the same to her.” Aisling barely glances at me as she says all of this. Instead, she springs out of bed and begins pacing around the room. “I’m going to make sure she is never Head Girl. By the time I’m done with her, nobody’s going to want to sit next to Ishita in class.”
“Nobody wants to sit next to Ishita in class now,” I say.
Aisling looks at me, her eyebrows scrunched together like she’s having a difficult time placing me. “What?”
“Ishita won’t care about that,” I say. “She doesn’t want people to sit next to her in class. She doesn’t care about what other people think of her. She never has.”
“Ishita pretends not to care. Everybody cares.”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t. And how … how exactly did she humiliate you?”
Aisling exchanges a glance with Dee that makes me wonder if the next words out of her lips will be the truth or something she’s made up. “So she hasn’t told you yet …”
“We haven’t spoken … in a few days.” It feels like it’s been an eternity, but I don’t tell Aisling that.
The smile that spreads across Aisling’s lips at my words makes my stomach twist. But of course—this is what she’s wanted all along, isn’t it? She was always trying to keep me away from Ishu.
“Well, you should know that Ishita and her sister dragged me into the principal’s office the other day, and now Ms. Gallagher thinks I’m the one who cheated. Which isn’t even true. It was horrible, and now we’re going to get back at her. Even better now that you’re broken up and—”
“If Principal Gallagher thinks you cheated from Ishita’s test … what’s she going to do?”
“Mum spoke to her.” Aisling shrugs. “I promised I wouldn’t do it again so she just let me off with a little warning. No issue there. Just—”
“The humiliation,” I finish for her.
“She made a spectacle of me in front of Ms. Gallagher, and if it gets out to the whole school—”
“Everybody thinks that it was Ishita,” I interrupt. “Because you haven’t bothered to tell anyone the truth.”
“The truth is that this was all Ishita’s doing. It’s her fault, so why would I tell anyone anything?”
But I can barely hear her words anymore. Even if her voice is steadily rising with every single thing she says.
“Why did you do it?”
“What are you even talking about, Maira?” Aisling finally turns to look at me properly. I finally see anger in her eyes. But she’s not angry about being falsely accused. She’s not upset in the heartbreaking way that Ishu was outside my house last week, convinced that nobody would believe her, convinced that she had lost everything she had worked so hard to achieve. Aisling is angry because I’m not wordlessly believing her side of the story, not offering her sympathy for her plight, not offering her help on how she can take Ishu down further.
For a moment, all I can see is the Aisling I knew when I was younger. The one who sat next to me in junior infants, and shared her Friday treat with me every week. The one who stood up for me when my first-ever boyfriend turned out to be an asshole. Suddenly it’s all too clear to me that the Aisling I knew then and the one I know now aren’t the same person. They haven’t been the same person for a while. And I’ve just chosen not to notice that.
“Why did you lie to Principal Gallagher about Ishita cheating from you? Why did you lie to me?” I ask.
“I didn’t—”
“Aisling.” I’m surprised at how even my voice sounds, though my heart is beating a million miles a minute. So fast that I’m surprised it hasn’t burst out of my chest.
Her expression finally changes from a glare to something softer. “I didn’t want to lose you. And neither did Dee.”
“So you planned it? Together?” My gaze goes from Aisling to Dee. Dee at least has the grace to look ashamed. Her head is bowed and she’s staring at the ground instead of meeting my gaze. Aisling is almost defiant, like she has no regrets. I suppose she probably doesn’t.
“We just saw what that girl was doing to you. She’s a bad influence on you.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “What was she doing to me? How was she a bad influence on me?”
“Well, it started when we all went to watch that movie together, and you told us about the two of you. Obviously you wouldn’t have decided you were bisexual if Ishita wasn’t in the picture,” Aisling starts. I clench my fingers into fists, trying to keep my anger and frustration inside myself. “Then, at the party you were weird. You spent the whole time hanging out with Ishita at the back and then left early with her.”
“We’ve barely hung out these past few weeks, since she came into the picture,” Dee adds. “It was like you were choosing her over us.”
“And she makes you different,” Aisling says. “Not yourself. I don’t know.”
I clench my fingers together so tightly that they dig into my skin painfully. Still, it helps keep the anger at bay.
“Ishita didn’t make me bisexual … that’s not how that works,” I say. “I came out to my parents ages ago. Not to you guys, because … because I was afraid you would act just like this. And … I was weird at the party because you made me feel like I didn’t fit in for not drinking. I guess I didn’t fit in. The thing is … Ishita doesn’t make me not myself. She makes me more myself than I ever have been with you guys. You don’t even call me by my real name.”
“What?! Maira’s a nickname!” Aisling sputters. “Like Deirdre is Dee, and I’m Ash sometimes.”
“Literally nobody has ever called you Ash,” I say. “And I’m Maira because neither of you have ever tried to learn how to pronounce my real name. I went with it because … because I wanted to be your friend. You know, my dad might lose the election because I kept letting you guys talk me into abandoning helping him. And … you couldn’t even get your parents to vote for him.”
I take a deep breath, letting some of my anger out with it. “I don’t know if any of this is worth it anymore.”
I don’t bother waiting for them to say anything more. I turn around and thunder down the stairs and out into the rain once more.
I should never have come here.
I should never have believed Aisling over Ishu.
I should never have let Ishu go.
I hope it’s not too late.
chapter forty-three
hani
I SPEND WAY TOO LONG DEBATING CALLING ISHU ON the bus home. On the one hand, all I want to do is tell her about everything that’s happened since the last time we spoke. About Abba and our fight, about how I might have lost him his election, about my guilt … and about Aisling and Dee.
But on the other hand, I keep thinking about what Abba told me yesterday. That I need to find a way to show her that I trust her. And I’m not sure if telling Aisling and Dee off is that. That’s not going to make her believe me.
Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating Page 21