Apparently all that stuff about giant bloodsucking leeches climbing up your nose got to Emily and she barfed up her breakfast.
Kids are running around screaming, Dillon is laughing, Emily is bawling, and Mrs. Beam is calling the office to tell them to send the custodian down to room 506 quick with a mop. I feel bad for Ravi. He was having such a good time up there telling his story, and now all anybody can think about is Emily’s barf. Miss Frost was right: It must be really hard coming all the way from India to New Jersey. Especially when you have to deal with somebody calling you names and stealing your mechanical pencils—not to mention hitting you on purpose with a softball. I look at that beautiful blue double peanut M&M sitting in the bowl in front of me and … woop, zoop, sloop … all of a sudden I get this great idea.
The smell of the vomit is overpowering. Girls are screaming, Emily Mooney is crying, and Dillon Samreen is laughing his head off.
Mrs. Beam tells me to return to my seat. Then she asks us to take out our copies of Bud, Not Buddy.
“We’ll go the library and read until the custodian has had a chance to clean up. When we return, we can continue with our game.”
“Poor Curryhead,” says Dillon as I take my seat. “His speech was so bad the audience puked.”
I ignore him and pull out my copy of Bud, Not Buddy. That’s when I notice a folded-up scrap of paper lying on the desk beside the jar of leeches.
I unfold it and read:
BEWARE! DO NOT TOUCH THE JAR!
TRUST ME.
JOE
It has been a day full of surprises, and it seems there will be one more.
As we line up and start down the hall toward the library, my stomach is in a knot. Can I really pull this off? Dillon Samreen is up ahead, sticking his tongue out at Lucy Mulligan while she ignores him. Ravi hasn’t said anything to me, but I know he read the note—I saw him. I hope I’m right about Dillon, but the closer we get to the library, the more I wonder if I was crazy to think that my plan could work. And then it happens. The first domino falls.
“Oops, I forgot my book,” Dillon tells Mrs. Beam. “I’ll be right back.”
Here goes, I think. This is it.
As I turn and watch Dillon walk down the hall, I think about all the mean things he’s done—not just to me, but to Ravi. Zebras have to stick together. I want Ravi to feel the way I felt when I saw that double M&M sitting in the bowl. As I watch Dillon Samreen duck into room 506, all I can do is hope that after all these years I know him as well as I think I do. I cross my fingers and begin the final countdown.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …”
“Noooooooooooo!”
The door bangs open, and Dillon comes flying out of room 506 like a bat out of you-know-where. There’s a terrified look on his face and a big wet stain spreading across the front of his pants.
I can’t believe it! It actually worked!
When I saw Dillon eyeballing those leeches earlier, I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d try to swipe them. And like everything else he’s taken, I also knew where they would end up.
Dillon is jumping up and down now, swatting at the front of his pants until finally the glass jar falls out the bottom of one of his pant legs and rolls across the floor.
Talk about an epic sequence.
What kind of fool puts leeches in his pants? Loosening the lid had been a capital idea, nothing less than pure genius!
Dillon is running around like a headless chicken. Then the bully of Albert Einstein Elementary School drops his pants and runs screaming down the hall in his starry underwear. Brilliant! I say a secret prayer of thanks to my grandfather and to the poor innocent leeches who sacrificed their lives for this important occasion.
Later, after Dillon Samreen has called his mother to come pick him up, and the cleaner has finished wiping up Emily Mooney’s vomit, we return to the classroom.
“Would you like to finish telling us your story, Ravi?” Mrs. Beam asks.
“No, thank you,” I say.
I don’t need to show off anymore. I’m not like Dillon Samreen and I never will be.
“I believe it’s your turn to guess, Ravi,” Mrs. Beam says, holding the basket out to me.
I close my eyes, make a wish, and pull out a card.
“There is more to me than meets the eye,” I read.
“Ahhh,” says Mrs. Beam. “Now, that’s a tough one. Especially for you, Ravi, because you’re new here. Would you like to choose another card instead, something that might be a bit easier to guess?”
I shake my head. This is the card I wanted to get. The one I had wished for. I carry it over and set it down beside the glass dish with the blue candy in it.
“It’s Joe,” I say.
Joe nods, then lifts his head and looks up at me. I smile and he smiles back. His eyes are brown, the color of the cinnamon sticks Amma brought with her from Bangalore.
“How in the world did you ever guess?” asks Mrs. Beam, impressed.
“It was easy,” I tell her. “These candies have four layers. Most people assume there are only three, but assumptions are often wrong. There is more to them than meets the eye.”
“Did you learn that in India?” asks Mrs. Beam.
“No,” I tell her. “I learned it here, from Joe.”
My mom and dad are both pretty smart people, but the truth is, they don’t know everything. Turns out you don’t have to punch someone in the nose or blab about your feelings to get your point across. Sometimes all you need is a little help from a friend.
There are some things about my life that are probably never going to change. Like for instance my awesome metabolism, or the fact that I have APD. But I’ve only been in fifth grade for five days and I’ve already noticed a big change. The other day when Mr. Barnes told me that the world was full of Dillon Samreens, I was pretty bummed out, but now that I know it’s possible for a couple of zebras to outsmart a crocodile, life is starting to look up. Not only that, but it’s Friday—pizza day!
I have always been Amma and Appa’s shining sun, and my grandparents’ pride and joy, but today I have learned something important. Winning is not always about shining the brightest. Sometimes it’s about sharing the light with someone who has been waiting in the shadows all along.
It is 11:30 and the bell has just rung. My first week at Albert Einstein Elementary School is almost over. Amma’s black tongue was right after all: Things have turned out okay. As I pick up my tiffin box and walk out of room 506, I feel like a new person. I haven’t decided yet whether I will eat my curd rice, or try the pizza today, but it doesn’t matter because I know I will not be eating my lunch alone. When I get to the lunchroom, I know my new friend will be saving a seat for me.
And I am right.
amma (ah-mah) . . . . . mother
appa (ah-pah) . . . . . father
Arun (ah-roon) . . . . . name meaning “radiance”
ayurvedic oil (eye-yoor-VAY-dik) . . . . . oil infused with herbs, valued for its natural healing properties
Bangalore (BAHNG-ga-lore) . . . . . South Indian city, capital of the Indian state of Karnataka, officially known as Bengaluru
bindi . . . . . (bin-dee) a dot worn on the forehead
Bollywood . . . . . Hollywood of India
century . . . . . a cricketing term for a score of 100 or more runs made by the batsman in a single innings
chai (cheye) . . . . . spiced milk tea
cricket . . . . . a British game similar to baseball
curd rice . . . . . yogurt and rice mixed together, sometimes garnished with mustard seeds, coriander, and green chiles
curry . . . . . combination of Indian spices and herbs
desi (day-see) . . . . . Indian
dosa (doh-sah) . . . . . South Indian rice and lentil crepe
dupatta (DOO-pa-ta) . . . . . head scarf, usually made of cotton or silk
ghee (ghee) . . . . . clarified butter
iddlie
s (ID-leeze) . . . . . rice and lentil steamed cakes
kan drishti (KUN-drish-tee) . . . . . evil eye
kho kho (co co) . . . . . Indian game similar to American tag
monkey cap . . . . . woolen knit cap partially covering the face—similar to balaclava
naan khatai (NON-cuh-tie) . . . . . an Indian cookie
Ovaltine (oval-teen) . . . . . malted milk powder
pallu (pah-loo) . . . . . end of the saree that drapes over the shoulder
Pramod (pruh-MODE) . . . . . boy’s name meaning “joyful”
raja (rah-jah) . . . . . a term of endearment meaning “king”
Ramaswami (RAH-mah-swamy) . . . . . boy’s name from the Hindu god Rama
rasam (RAH-sum) . . . . . spicy lentil soup
Ravi (rah-VEE) . . . . . boy’s name meaning “the sun”
Roshni (ROH-shnee) . . . . . woman’s name meaning “ray of light”
saree (SAH-ree) . . . . . traditional Indian dress, consisting of a long piece of cloth, elaborately wrapped around the waist and passed over the shoulder
Sellotape . . . . . Scotch tape
Shakti Kapoor (Shock-tee Kah-POOR) . . . . . Bollywood actor best known for playing villains
Suryanarayanan (Soo-ree-yah-neh-RI-nan) . . . . . Hindu god of the sun
Tanjore painting (tan-joor) . . . . . elaborate traditional South Indian art form using gold leaf and semiprecious stones
tennikoit (tenny-quoit) . . . . . game played with a rubber ring
tiffin (TIF-fin) . . . . . a light meal or snack
tiffin box . . . . . stainless steel box used to carry a school lunch or snack; several boxes can be stacked together; connected with metal buckles
tracksuit pants . . . . . sweatpants
uppuma (OOP-uh-mah) . . . . . South Indian breakfast dish
veshti (vesh-tee) . . . . . traditional Indian men’s garment wrapped around the waist and the legs and knotted at the waist; resembles a long skirt
Vidya Mandir (Vid-yah Man-dur) . . . . . temple of knowledge
barf . . . . . slang for vomit
baseball . . . . . an American game similar to cricket
blab . . . . . to talk a lot
blow chunks . . . . . slang for vomit
Bon Appétit (bone app-uh-TEE) . . . . . American cooking magazine
bow tie (boh tie) . . . . . man’s necktie that ties in a bow
boxers . . . . . underwear that resembles loose shorts
Brick Breaker . . . . . computer game
ChapStick . . . . . popular American brand of lip balm
cilantro (sill-AHN-troh) . . . . . coriander leaves
crud (cruhd) . . . . . expression of disappointment
Girl Scout . . . . . similar to the Girl Guides in India
Hacky Sack . . . . . a small fabric or leather bag filled with pebbles or beads used to play a game with your feet
holy smokes . . . . . American expression meaning “WOW!”
huevos rancheros (hway-voze ran-chair-oze) . . . . . Mexican breakfast dish
index card . . . . . lined card used for taking notes
interleague . . . . . a baseball game between one team from the American League and one team from the National League
jelly . . . . . jam
Kohl’s (coals) . . . . . popular American discount clothing store
M&M . . . . . candy-covered chocolate sometimes with a peanut inside
meat loaf . . . . . combination of ground meats and vegetables baked in the form of a loaf
mechanical pencil . . . . . a pencil with a thin replaceable lead that can be extended and retracted
oatmeal cookies . . . . . chewy cookies made with oats and sometimes raisins
Phillies (FILL-eeze) . . . . . baseball team from Philadelphia
polo shirt . . . . . short-sleeve knit shirt with collar and three buttons
puke (pyook) . . . . . slang for vomit
quinoa (KEEN-wah) . . . . . edible grain high in protein
Red Sox . . . . . baseball team from Boston
salsa (sahl-sa) . . . . . a spicy Mexican sauce made with tomatoes
shrimpy . . . . . abnormally small
snow globe . . . . . a transparent sphere made of glass or plastic, enclosing a miniaturized scene of some sort
Sports Illustrated . . . . . popular American sports magazine
Staples . . . . . American chain store that sells stationery and office supplies
tofu (TOE-foo) . . . . . also known as bean curd, made from soy milk
tortilla (tore-TEE-yah) . . . . . Mexican flatbread
trunk . . . . . storage area at the rear of a vehicle, in India known as a dickey or boot
FILLING:
5 apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
½ cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp nutmeg
¼ tsp ground cloves
TOPPING:
1 stick margarine or butter, softened
8 tbsp sugar
8 tbsp all-purpose flour
For the filling: In a large bowl, combine apples, sugar, and spices. Toss with a spoon until apples are evenly coated.
For the topping: In a separate bowl, use fingers to combine butter and dry ingredients. Topping should be crumbly. If consistency is too sticky, add equal amounts of flour and sugar, one tablespoon at a time, until mixture crumbles into pea-size bits.
Butter a baking dish (a large Pyrex dish is ideal) and fill with apples. Cover evenly with topping mixture and press down.
Bake uncovered at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for one hour or until top is nicely browned.
Enjoy with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
2½ cups all-purpose flour
¾ tsp baking powder
2 sticks butter
1½ tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
¾ tsp cumin seeds
½ tsp cumin powder (optional)
2 to 2½ tbsp plain whole milk yogurt
Sift the flour and baking powder.
Cream the butter and sugar. Mix in the salt, cumin seeds, and cumin powder (if you like the flavor of cumin, adding the powder is recommended).
Add the sifted flour to the creamed mixture. Knead into a dough, adding the yogurt as you do so.
Roll the dough ⅛-inch thick. Cut into round shapes with cookie cutter.
Place on a greased cookie tray and bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave on a rack to cool.
Enjoy the naan khatais with a cup of hot Indian chai.
We would like to thank Lucy Calkins and our fellow writers from the Fall 2012 Teachers College Writing Workshop. Special thanks to Holly McGhee for being a fan of this book from the very beginning, and to David Levithan for his brilliant editing and clear vision. We are forever indebted to our husbands, Arun Varadarajan and Jim Fyfe, for their patience and support as we wended our way through this process, discovering not only our own voices, but each other’s. Musicians John McLaughlin and L. Shankar, we are grateful to you for “Get Down and Sruti (1978),” which gave us a new way to think about collaboration. Finally, to our sons, Vaishnav, Vedav, Gabriel, and Nathaniel, we thank you for inspiring us and for blessing us with the most precious of all the connections we share—motherhood. This book has been a joy for us to write. We hope it will bring joy to those who read our words as well.
—Sarah and Gita
Sarah Weeks is the author of over fifty books for young readers. Her titles include Glamourpuss, a picture book illustrated by David Small, and the novels Pie and Honey. Her award-winning novel So B. It was adapted as a motion picture, directed by Stephen Gyllenhaal and starring Alfre Woodard and Talitha Bateman. Sarah, a graduate of Hampshire College and NYU, is an adjunct professor in the prestigious MFA writing program at The New School University in New York City. She has two grown sons and lives with her husband, Jim Fyfe, and their dog, Mia, in a little green-and-yellow house overlooking the Hudson River in Nyack, New York.
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Gita Varadarajan was born and raised in India and moved to the US five years ago. She earned her master’s degree in literacy education at Teachers College, Columbia University. Gita has worked with children all her life, in India, the United Arab Emirates, and now in the US, where she teaches second grade at Riverside Elementary School in Princeton, New Jersey. She is an adjunct professor of literacy at The College of New Jersey and continues to spearhead reading and writing workshops in India. She lives in West Windsor, New Jersey, with her husband, Arun, and their two teenage sons in a town house decorated with interesting objects collected from around the world.
Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Weeks and Gita Varadarajan
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, May 2016
Jacket illustration © 2016 by Mark Elliott
Jacket design by Mary Claire Cruz
e-ISBN 978-0-545-84662-2
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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