And maybe I didn’t know it then, but it was the start of it all—how Lacy moved to Ohio from California just to ruin my life.
Chapter Five
Sara and I used to be able to sit in silence and be comfortable. The silence that stretched between us now stretched like a rubber band about to snap.
The sun sat high overhead, and even under the shade of the tree, sweat pooled behind my knees and in the crevices of my elbows. I really wanted to ask her why. Why did she ask Lacy to the sleepover? It had always been just us. We hadn’t even invited Kate and Emma, even though we ate lunch with them at school. So, why the new girl? Why this girl?
I didn’t know what bothered me more, Sara’s silence or sitting so still. The heat aggravated my emotions and made me itch with even more questions. Was Sara still my best friend? And what was so great about Lacy and Taylor Daniels, or bikinis, for that matter?
“Let’s play,” I said, standing up.
“What? Volleyball? But you know I’m terrible. Please, Karma.”
It struck me as funny in that not-really-funny way that Sara knew I knew things about her, like the fact that she hated sports, but she didn’t mind ignoring things like the fact that I wouldn’t want sparkly, pink Lacy at our sleepover. Having Lacy there would be like me inviting Kiran to join Sara and me to discuss our periods or how to pop a zit so it wouldn’t leave a scar. I shouldn’t have had to explain that to Sara. I wanted to hit something—so volleyball it was.
“Fine, suit yourself.” I easily moved into the circle between Lacy and Kate and waited for the ball to come in my direction. It came toward me and I bumped the ball across the circle to Tom.
“Nice one, Karma,” Derek said. He shook his hair out of his eyes and smiled at me, lifting his chin the way Kiran does when girls wave at him.
Lacy raised her eyebrows at me. I tried to shrug Derek’s comment off, but I didn’t know why Derek had said that with a smile, and I didn’t know why it made my arms wobbly and numb in a nervous and self-conscious kind of way.
Lacy smirked and wouldn’t stop glancing at me. She was the kind of girl with magnifying glasses for eyeballs. If she noticed my wobbly arms, she’d probably notice my mustache, too. I curled my lips into my mouth, fighting the urge to rub at the hair. I just hoped everyone had their eyes on the ball and wasn’t paying attention to me.
Tom bumped the ball right between Lacy and me. I eyed Lacy. Her eyes were trained on the ball, but like a typical amateur, she wasn’t in a hitting stance. The ball arched high enough, so I knew I could spike it back. I decided Lacy needed to know that I was Sara’s friend and no way could she barge into my life and steal Sara away from me. So what if I didn’t wear a bikini?
If I could get in front of her and smack the ball down with enough force, maybe she’d realize she’d picked the wrong house in the wrong town to move into. Her sparkles might have distracted Sara for the moment, but I’d show Sara that that was all Lacy was—a distraction.
I sidestepped, trying to get in front of Lacy. Just as I did, she finally braced to bump the ball, but it was too late. I was already right in front of her. I swung my arm. It would have been a perfect spike, but Lacy wouldn’t give up. Her hand hit my elbow, knocking the ball off at an odd angle. Right at Sara.
For that split second before the ball hit her, Sara’s face changed from surprised to confused at the sudden attention. Then the ball hit her nose with an ice-cream-onto-the-sidewalk kind of splat.
“Oh my gosh!” Lacy said, running toward Sara.
“Oh, man,” Derek mumbled, shaking his head at me.
“Whoa. Isn’t she your best friend?” Tom asked.
“It was an accident.” I rushed over to Sara. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
Lacy pulled back from Sara and looked right at me. “Way to go, Karma. Her nose is bleeding.”
Sara wouldn’t lift her eyes. She held her nose and put her head down. Blood had dripped onto the top of her new two-piece bathing suit and dribbled onto her exposed stomach. Lacy held on to Sara’s arm as she dug around for some tissues in her bag.
“Should we get a lifeguard?” Derek asked.
“No,” Sara said. “I’m fine.” Her voice was too loud and shaky. She wasn’t fine. And I also knew from my first aid training that the dusty tissues from Lacy’s bag weren’t sterile. Plus bloodied tissues should be disposed of properly and not wadded up and thrown to the side the way Lacy dealt with them. I was obviously more qualified to be taking control of this situation.
I knelt down next to Sara. “Listen, Sara. Does your head hurt? Do you know where you are?”
“My nose is bleeding, not my brain,” Sara mumbled through a second handful of tissues Lacy had shoved under her nose
The whistle that ended adult swim blew, officially ending our game and sending almost everyone back into the pool. Tom and Derek hovered nearby with the ball.
Lacy moved between Sara and me, blocking Sara’s face from view. I fought the urge to snatch my things as she shoved my bag out of the way, flinging my sunscreen and books across the towels.
Lacy dabbed at Sara’s nose. She used an ooey-gooey voice as she talked to Sara. Like anyone would really buy it that she knew Sara better than me.
I sat back and let Lacy think she’d won this time. But I knew something she didn’t. Sara could never say no to an ice cream sandwich.
“Hey, I’ll go buy us some ice cream sandwiches,” I said, hoping the mention of an ice cream sandwich would make Sara forget I’d hit her in the face with a volleyball.
“Yeah,” Lacy said. “The cold will probably help the bleeding stop.” She grabbed Sara by the arm and helped her up.
I moved forward to walk on the other side of Sara, but Lacy somehow managed to get in my way. I considered saying a couple of Satnam Wahegurus just to calm myself down, but chose to take some deep breaths instead, mostly because Lacy didn’t deserve anything heartfelt or sincere from me.
“I’ll buy yours,” Lacy said to Sara, butting into the conversation the same way she had butted into my life. “You need a free ice cream after all this.” She turned enough to fake smile my way. Sara was too preoccupied with ignoring me to notice Lacy’s sneer.
Tom and Derek came running from behind.
“Wait for us,” Tom said, trying to leapfrog over Derek. They both ended up in another shoving match on the ground.
Lacy paid for Sara’s ice cream and led her over to a table without even waiting for me. I paid for mine and hovered next to Sara. She scooted over but didn’t bother to otherwise acknowledge me. I sat down, staring at my ice cream sandwich. I didn’t really want it anymore. How could I eat something so sweet and cold when I felt so sour and hot inside?
“I dare you to eat that in one bite,” Derek said to Tom, pointing at Tom’s ice cream sandwich.
Tom shoved the whole thing into his mouth. White, melted ice cream leaked out of the sides of his mouth and dripped down to his chin.
“Ewww,” Lacy squealed, throwing a napkin at him.
Tom jumped around, hitting himself in the head and hopping on one leg. He bumped into the picnic table, spilling Derek’s can of Coke. It dribbled between the cracks, making Lacy and Sara yell and laugh.
“Gross, it’s all over my legs!” Sara jumped up and threw a chunk of her ice cream sandwich at Tom.
I sat back, eyeing Mrs. Parker, who worked at the snack bar, hoping she wouldn’t yell at us. Thankfully, she was busy turning hot dogs.
Sara dodged a piece of ice cream that Derek had thrown, and handed Lacy some napkins. They both started to tear them and ball them up, before throwing napkin wads at the boys. I’d never glimpsed this side of Sara before. Sure, we’d goof off with Kate and Emma at lunch or during PE, but I’d never seen Sara so not-Sara in front of boys before. She had just joined in the silliness as though she’d always wanted to. It surprised me the same way her wearing the two-piece bathing suit, saying Derek was cute, and ogling over Taylor Daniels had. Maybe I’d been holding her b
ack and Lacy was able to bring out Sara’s silly side because Lacy was more fun and interesting than me.
Two ladies with small kids sitting at the next table shook their heads at us and dragged their kids back to the baby pool. I caught Mrs. Parker finally noticing us and scowling in our direction. She walked out from behind the counter.
“You guys need to clean all this up and keep it down,” she said.
“We’re really sorry,” Tom said in his talking-to-adults voice. “Just a bad case of brain-freeze.”
Sara giggled, which surprised me, because Mrs. Parker had been working at the pool and giving Sara and me ice cream sandwiches since we were in diapers. Trashing the snack area and laughing at Mrs. Parker wasn’t something Sara would normally do.
Mrs. Parker cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at me—like it was my fault that Sara had imitated Lacy and acted so rude—before walking back into the snack bar.
Tom and Derek started making fart noises in step with random people walking by. Lacy threw away a couple of napkins and sat down across from me. I took a bite of my ice cream sandwich, but with Lacy right across the table, I wished I’d grabbed my book so I could cover the lower half of my face. Her blue eyes made my arm hair stand on end.
“Hey, Kar,” she said. “I couldn’t tell in the shade under the trees, but you have hair—everywhere.”
The bite of ice cream sandwich in my mouth didn’t quite know what to do. The cookie part stuck to the roof of my mouth as the ice cream part slowly trickled its way down my throat and into my chest, where it lodged right behind my heart.
Sara, Tom, and Derek were suddenly frozen.
“Look, it’s no big deal,” Lacy said with a dramatic sigh. “I have lemon juice in my bag. I never go anywhere without some. You shouldn’t either. It’s a natural bleach. I use it for my hair, but it’ll even help with that stuff on your face.” She leaned in closer to me and dabbed at my upper lip. “Like the fuzz here.”
Fuzz? Even from the corner of my eye, I could see Sara’s face turn a dark red and Tom’s and Derek’s shoulders shake.
Lacy slapped her hands down onto the table. “What?”
The rickety picnic table shook. I knew the laughing was making the table shake, but for a moment I hoped it was an earthquake—a big, ground-ripping earthquake that would open below me and swallow me whole.
“Dang, Karma!” Tom said, leaning in closer. “That’s thicker than the ’stache I’ve been trying to grow all summer.”
Derek punched him on the shoulder. “Man, stop it.” But he laughed as Tom jumped onto the table and got close to my face. “ ’Stache Attack!” He put his index finger over his mouth in a finger mustache.
Lacy laughed, so Derek did the same and jumped in front of her. “You’ve been ’Stached!”
Lacy shoved Derek away. “Oh my gosh. Your breath smells like Coke.”
I bet they wouldn’t have even noticed my hair if it hadn’t been for Lacy and her big mouth. Sara would definitely see now that inviting Lacy here and to our sleepover was a huge mistake.
Sara didn’t laugh, but she didn’t say anything either. Angry red splotches formed up and down her neck. Or maybe they were annoyed red splotches. Or embarrassed red splotches—embarrassed of me red splotches. She sat there folding and unfolding her ice cream wrapper in long rectangles.
I wasn’t asking for much, just for her to open her mouth and say, “It’s not a mustache. Leave her alone.” Was that too much to expect from my best friend? I remembered smelling her overalls in second grade in front of all the kids at recess, saying they didn’t smell at all like pee, even though they did. I’d dried them under the hand dryer while she’d waited in the bathroom stall with nothing on but her underwear and shirt. Was wanting her to stand up for me right now asking for any more than a returned favor?
I guessed so, because Lacy dragged her off with Derek and Tom to jump into the deep end. When Tom yelled “ ’Stache Attack” and did a cannonball into the pool, Sara didn’t even turn around and give me a smile or a shrug. Nothing. Nothing to reassure me it was just a joke and didn’t mean anything.
I looked at the clock. Noon. Daddy was supposed to pick me up at three, but I didn’t want to wait around, getting laughed at until then. I’d rather lie and tell him Sara dropped me off. I grabbed my bag and towel and left. If Sara noticed, she didn’t come over to try to stop me. Even though I’d been in the shade most of the time and had lathered myself with SPF 45, every part of my body—inside and out—felt sunburned.
Not only had Lacy weaseled her way into the slumber party and our class, but she’d managed to wedge herself right between Sara and me the way an annoying piece of spinach gets stuck between your teeth. The more you fiddle with it, the slimier and more slippery it gets.
There was only one thing to do—stop her slimy hands from squirming further between Sara and me, stealing her away for good.
Chapter Six
Halfway up the stairs to my bedroom, Daddy caught me. My skin tingled with the sweaty stickiness of having been at the pool.
“Home so early, beta?”
“Yep. Sara’s mom forgot she had a dentist appointment, so she dropped me off.” I stood on the steps with my back to Daddy. It was silly, but sometimes I felt that other people could tell what had happened by just looking at my eyes. I couldn’t turn around and let Daddy find out about ’Stache Attack or Lacy or the fact that Sara had morphed into a completely different person. I needed to go to my room and be alone. I couldn’t sort through my embarrassment and confusion with someone watching.
“Cha leni?”
“No, thanks.” Tea was Daddy’s answer for everything. “I have a headache.” Which I did. “And it’s super hot outside.” Which it was.
“Okay, beta.” Daddy hum-whistled tunelessly and headed back to his study, totally unaware how easily I’d lied to him.
Inside the bathroom I leaned over the sink and turned my head at different angles. The hairs were still there, like a pencil smudge above my mouth. No wonder Lacy had noticed it. Thanks to her turning it into a big joke with Tom and Derek, Sara had been too embarrassed to even stick up for me, much less help me figure out a way to get rid of it.
I needed a shower.
I let the hot water form tears on my face, because no real ones would come. Then I did what I’d started to do last summer when I needed to cry but couldn’t. I thought about Dadima.
She died last year after living with us for two years. Even though Mom only worked part-time then, Dadima did most of the cooking. When she wasn’t cooking, she’d teach me Punjabi. Daddy had taught me the alphabet and how to count, and he spoke Punjabi around the house, so that the sounds had been familiar enough for me to understand, even if I hadn’t always known how to answer. But it didn’t all fall into place until Dadima taught me to read.
She’d read me her prayer book and tell me stories about the gurus. She taught me things that I’d only read glimpses of on the projector screens at the gurdwara, when the Punjabi phrases from our Bible were projected with English translations under them as the priests sang. Sara went to Sunday school at her church, but the small and only gurdwara near Creekview didn’t have anything like that. Dadima had been my Punjabi Sunday school.
I still smelled things that reminded me of her—the coppery smell of dirt and spices that had arrived with her from India the first day she came to live with us, the smell that went straight to the back of my nose and stuck to my throat. Daddy said it was the smell of India and his childhood. To me it was the smell of comfort.
I let the shower pour over me and wished it would make me shrink or disappear so I wouldn’t have to face the world ever again. But the water got too cold, and I turned it off.
Wrapped in a towel, I leaned in close to the mirror so I could examine my face for the hundredth time. I needed to come up with a plan. Maybe I should give lemon juice a try, even though Lacy had suggested it. She might be my enemy, but I couldn’t deny her style and sparkle, no
matter how much I wanted to.
There were only four more days until school started. I just hoped ’Stache Attack wouldn’t catch on before then.
• • •
Mom had been late or missed dinner completely all summer, since she’d started working full-time at the University of Creekview, the very university that hadn’t renewed Daddy’s research funding and was the reason he now stayed at home full-time. It also happened to be the same university that had promoted Mom from a summer-and-sometimes-night-class professor to co-head of the Department of Chemistry. It was some initiative to get more girls interested in studying science.
That night was no exception. Mom still hadn’t returned home when Daddy put dinner on the table.
Kiran sat across from me. I watched him stab the fish on his plate with a fork instead of eat it. He managed to get most of the curry off his fish and eat it plain. Daddy noticed and breathed hard out of his nose. I took a big bite, hoping if I ate and talked as if things were perfectly normal and not upside-down wrong, it would rub off on everyone else and we could pretend things were going smoothly.
“School starts Monday,” I said, trying to start the conversation.
“Hmm,” Daddy mumbled through a bite of rice and fish curry.
“Phht.” Kiran made a sound through his teeth.
“So . . .” I stalled, rifling through my brain for a topic that wouldn’t make Daddy and Kiran fight. Nothing came to mind.
The only sound any of us made was when our forks hit our plates, until Mom pushed through the garage door that opened into the kitchen.
“You’re eating already?” she asked.
“It’s seven o’clock,” Daddy said, scratching his beard just in front of his ear, where it twisted into his turban.
Karma Khullar's Mustache Page 3