Karma Khullar's Mustache

by Kristi Wientge

  “I thought it would all die down and we’d still play together after school. But he made lots of new friends, especially with the other boys. So I guess I knew it was over.”

  Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

  “I did care for a while,” Ginny said. “Sometimes I still do.”

  “I’m sorry I never said anything when people called you ‘Guinea Pig.’ ”

  The memory of Sara looking away at the pool was still as vivid as the day it happened. I could see it like my brain had taken a photo of it and was displaying it behind my eyes. I wondered how many of those kinds of moments were still snapshots in Ginny’s head. Until Sara had sat quietly around this past week, I never really got it that sometimes the silence hurts worse than the teasing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day I thought about dumping the prawn sambal down the drain that ran alongside the road. Standing at the top of the hill, I looked back toward my house. Daddy couldn’t see me. It would be quick. A simple flip of the wrist.

  Two things stopped me. One, the fact that prawns were expensive, and Daddy made it very clear just how much each prawn cost and just how many hours of work it took to make that kind of money. Daddy freaked out about money the way I freaked out about diseases, maybe even more so now, with Mom the only one working.

  The other thing stopping me was that I wanted to be strong enough to ignore Derek and Lacy when they made fun of my lunch. I wanted to get rid of that burn in my chest when they said stupid things. No more Pride. No more Anger. It didn’t seem possible to keep tally of my karma points, because just when I thought I’d earned some, I’d lose more than I’d earned.

  At school, in math, Mr. McKanna paired us up and passed out Math Scrabble games. Then he stopped at my desk and in front of everyone said, “Karma, can you please stay after class? I need to discuss something with you.”

  I avoided everyone’s eyes and nodded. Teachers don’t normally single me out unless I’ve raised my hand. It took extra concentration to gather my tiles and line them up nicely on the holder.

  Math Scrabble was basically regular Scrabble but with numbers and addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication signs. It’s played in rounds. The winner moves to the next table, and eventually the top two winners go head-to-head in the championship ring, as Mr. McKanna called it, but the championship ring was just two desks pushed together in the middle of the room.

  I didn’t want to win, because I didn’t want the added attention, but my thoughts were so preoccupied trying to keep my mind off what Mr. McKanna could possibly need to discuss with me that I kept winning. Five minutes before the bell, I sat in the championship ring facing Kate.

  “Come on, Kate!” Lacy said, nudging the other girls to join.

  “Yeah, Kate.”

  “You can do it, Kate.”

  I looked across the desk as Kate busied herself, placing her tiles neatly on the holder. Her eyes met mine, and I smiled. Kate smiled back, but Lacy cleared her throat. Kate’s mouth slid back into a straight line.

  “You got it, Karma,” Ginny said.

  I nodded at her gratefully.

  “Yeah, Karma,” David chimed in.

  Tom leaned forward and pretended to scratch the bottom of his nose, but uncurled his finger in a ’Stache Attack. “Sneaky ’Stache!”

  “All right! All right!” Mr. McKanna stepped forward, hushing the giggles.

  I stared down at my tiles, trying to focus on the game. Kate placed a simple addition number equation on the board, and the game had begun. When I gathered my tiles, Tom rubbed his upper lip in that stupid Sneaky ’Stache way. It made me think. I knew what Mr. McKanna wanted to discuss.

  My mustache.

  How long had the teachers been discussing it? They’d probably noticed and wanted Mr. McKanna to discuss shaving tips with me.

  A couple of minutes later I held the winning tile in my hand, but it gave me no satisfaction when I placed it down and won.

  “That’s what I call a close shave, Karma!” Derek said.

  “Totally! It was getting pretty hairy there for a while,” Tom added.

  They both put their finger over their upper lip and said, “You’ve been ’Stached!” right in Kate’s face.

  “Ugh,” Kate sighed, pushing them away.

  The bell rang, and I hoped Mr. McKanna had forgotten that he wanted to talk to me, so I could slip out of the room and disappear into the hallway.

  “Oh, Kar,” Lacy said too loudly. “Doesn’t Mr. McKanna want to discuss something with you?”

  Lacy smiled in a way that reminded me of cotton candy, like that one time when I went to a baseball game with Daddy. I ate three bags because he only had a twenty-dollar bill, and the guy walking up and down the aisles selling cotton candy didn’t have change. My stomach ached the entire night and I’d never wanted cotton candy since. Lacy’s cotton candy smile was sweet, sticky, and fluffy, and it made me sick to my stomach.

  I grabbed my books and held them close to my chest as I stared at the floor, waiting for everyone else to leave the classroom.

  “Have a seat, Karma,” Mr. McKanna said once everyone had filed out of the room.

  I noticed the black hair on his arms and how it extended all the way to the tops of his hands and then into little tufts on his fingers. I rubbed my arms, and while I knew they were hairy, it made me glad they weren’t that hairy. Yet Kiran once told me that hair, noses, and ears never stopped growing. Would my arms be as hairy as Mr. McKanna’s when I was an adult?

  Maybe when he was a kid, a teacher also talked to him about his hair. I bet that’s what all the teachers talked about at lunchtime.

  “Are you okay?” Mr. McKanna asked. “You look kind of pale and scared.”

  I shook my head, but then realized it might mean I wasn’t okay, so I nodded. Then again, nodding might make him think I was scared. I had to say something. “It’s not hairy—I mean scary. I’m just—”

  Mr. McKanna laughed and rubbed his arms. I must have still been staring at them. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble, Karma.” He cleared his throat and ran his hand over his mouth and chin.

  So, this was about my mustache. He’d just touched his mouth. Wasn’t that something police watched for when they asked criminals questions? They watched what criminals did with their hands and eyes.

  I felt my own hand itch to touch my upper lip, but I fought the urge. I didn’t want to be obvious, so I pretended to scratch the bottom of my nose, but that looked like I picked my nose, so I turned my finger and rubbed the bottom of my nose with the side of my finger.

  Mr. McKanna gave me a funny look and rubbed the bottom of his nose the same way, like maybe I was telling him he had something hanging off the end of his nose. I shoved my hands under my legs and waited for him to tell me the best way to get a clean, close shave, wishing that my karma was as sparkly as Lacy’s shoes.

  “So, anyway,” he continued, “Lacy’s mom called yesterday. I’d wanted to talk to you before, and her calling was like an omen, you know?” He smiled.

  I didn’t know what could be so funny about an omen to talk to an eleven-year-old girl about facial hair.

  “The thing is, a particularly interesting suggestion in the box from your homeroom caught my attention, and the teachers are pretty excited about it. We’d like to start a peer study group. Mrs. Clark suggested we call it Study Buddies. I called your dad and he’s on board, but I wanted to know how you felt about helping Lacy out with her math.” He paused and watched me.

  It took a few seconds for it all to sink in. Lacy needed help with math. Mr. McKanna didn’t say anything about shaving.

  “For now it’ll just be informal tutoring. Mrs. Jenkins asked if you’d be free Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. Once we have approval from the school board, we’ll give you and some of the other students, perhaps Kate and Sara and a few others, an office in the study hall. Kids can come and visit you when they need help with their homework or studying
for a test. Of course, the school board will want to see results before they put money into study materials, but that’s our goal. Would you be interested in getting involved?”

  I nodded to keep the room from spinning. Anything was better than having to discuss my mustache with a teacher, even if it meant I’d have to help Lacy with her math homework.

  Chapter Twenty

  When I walked into the kitchen after school, Daddy held a plate of vegetable pakoras in his hands and smiled so big, I thought tears would squeeze out of his eyes.

  “Ah, my little professor!” Of course Daddy would make a big deal about the tutoring thing.

  I grabbed a pakora and pretended I didn’t notice Daddy’s misty eyes. Since Mom had started working, all I’d wanted was for someone to notice me, but now that Daddy was staring at me with a goofy grin and frying up my favorite snack, I wanted it to stop. I didn’t really deserve the attention. Tutoring Lacy wasn’t really my idea. I’d thought Study Buddies would mean tutoring kids over at the elementary school, not my arch-nemesis.

  The more time I’d had to consider Mr. McKanna’s idea, the less I thought of it as a good one. Lacy wouldn’t be happy about getting help from me, and there wasn’t even a small chance she’d make it pleasant for me, I could be sure of that.

  I finished the pakora quickly while standing, even though Daddy had just taken it out of the fryer. It burned my mouth so badly, I couldn’t really taste it.

  “I’ve got a lot of homework,” I said, leaning sideways, like my bag was weighing me down.

  Daddy quickly wrapped two more pakoras in a napkin. “Go, go, go. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” He shoved me toward the steps and sniffed.

  I didn’t actually have much homework, so I pulled the tiffin out of my bag and sat on my bed, eating the pakoras and the prawn sambal I never ate at lunch. The prawns were room temperature, but my stomach had been growling since last period, and I didn’t want to send any accidental message to Babaji that I didn’t need his blessings. Because I did. I needed all the blessings I could get.

  When I’d finished eating, I sat back on my bed. The last two days after school, I’d been so busy cooking and cleaning, I hadn’t noticed how much time stretched between school and dinner. But today Daddy had cleaned the entire house and had dinner under control. I only had a few pages to read in English and a science worksheet on genes to complete, but I didn’t want to start it now.

  Out of habit I reached for the phone. My finger found the nine, ready to push the rest of Sara’s number. I couldn’t even remember how all of our conversations used to start. How did the simple routine of calling your best friend go from being something you did every day without thinking to something you sat on your bed worrying about?

  My palms were slick and I wiped them on my shorts after I hung up the phone. I could imagine exactly where Sara would be standing if I called. I could picture Ruthie grabbing for the phone and pulling on Sara’s shirt. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to picture it all accurately.

  Dadima had been the same. I used to see her out of the corner of my eye the weeks just after she died. I’d catch a shadow of her shape in the kitchen or on her bed saying prayers. Her voice would whisper little reminders to me or I’d be alone and the pressure of her hands on my shoulders or a tap on my back would startle me. Then, one day, it stopped. I couldn’t remember how her voice sounded. I couldn’t smell her. I stopped seeing her. She had disappeared. I had to close my eyes really tight to remember how her earlobes had drooped and how the hair around her face had been white and coarse, or the wideness of her hands, or how young she’d looked when she closed her eyes while she recited from her prayer book.

  Little by little Sara had started disappearing. After days of her being attached to Lacy’s side and not standing up for me, our friendship had started to die too.

  Dadima once explained that everything must die in order for something new to grow.

  “Imagine each of our souls is a drop of water and God is the ocean. We are separated from God until we find the ocean and become one with God. The drop of water isn’t gone. It’s simply in a new form. Marnae hee tae paeeaae pooran parmaanand.”

  That meant “In death alone is one blessed with supreme bliss.”

  “Are you afraid to die?” I’d asked, suddenly aware how easily she spoke of death and how much I didn’t want to lose her.

  “Why would I fear supreme bliss?”

  I hardly considered the death of Sara’s friendship supreme bliss. It turned out to be more of a karma catastrophe. And just so karma could really rub it in, it had paired me with Lacy.

  • • •

  Both Kiran and Mom were already seated at the table when Daddy called me down for dinner. Take-out boxes from Supremo’s were lined up in the middle of the table.

  “What’s all this for?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful. Normally this was my favorite dinner, but since the throw-up incident there, I hadn’t really been in the mood for pizza. My cheeks flushed at the memory, but I pushed it aside, along with the pinprick of annoyance I felt that my parents were so clueless about everything.

  “For you. What an achievement!” Mom stood up and hugged me.

  Daddy whistled as he scooped some salad and pizza onto a plate for me. Even Kiran didn’t have a scowl on his face. He wasn’t exactly smiling either, but it was an improvement.

  Looking at my family right then was like rewinding our lives to three months ago—everyone around the table, no stress lines or forced smiles. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I even ignored Daddy when he poured hot sauce all over his pizza and salad.

  “I’m very proud of you, Karmajeet.” Daddy said. “You have a gift, and I’m glad you’re putting it to use.” He cleared his throat as he set the bottle of hot sauce down and glanced at Kiran.

  Kiran stared into his glass of water.

  “Daddy said that Mr. McKanna mentioned that this was just a trial, before they officially get Study Buddies started,” Mom said. “How come he wants you to do this now?”

  “Oh, there’s a new girl in my class and her mom wants her to get some extra help.” I took a bite of salad, making sure I got dressing, a tomato, cheese, and a crouton all in the same bite.

  “Oh, is it that girl Sara’s mom mentioned? She just moved across the street from them,” Mom said.

  “Yep,” I said, glad that my mouth was full so I didn’t have to elaborate.

  “That’s nice. Maybe the two of you could become friends.” Mom smiled. “You and Sara need to make some more friends in middle school. It’s your chance to branch out. Right, Kiran?”

  Kiran kept his eyes on his water. Mom reached across the table and patted him on the hand gently.

  “Sure,” he mumbled, forcing a bite of pizza into his mouth.

  Daddy dropped his fork with a clatter, and it sent a piece of lettuce drizzled in hot sauce flying into the middle of the table.

  “Listen here, young man,” Daddy said. “I didn’t raise a bunch of Neanderthals.” He pushed up from his chair so that he towered over Kiran. “I expect you to speak actual words, not mumble responses when your mother asks you a question.”

  Daddy breathed through his nose, his mouth hidden under his mustache. It was a serious moment, but I could only focus on Daddy’s mustache hair going in and out of his nose as he breathed. I didn’t know how he didn’t sneeze.

  “Fine.” Kiran pushed away from the table and stood up too. He stood at almost the same height as Daddy. He turned to me. “Yes, Karma. Junior high and high school are really great. You get to make all kinds of super friends and have wonderful experiences. It’s real swell when kids twice your size find it funny to screw up your chemistry experiment and then send you to the smoker’s bathroom as a prank so your own teachers and parents think you’re a complete loser.” His voice sounded the same as a man reading a toothpaste commercial. He turned and looked directly at Daddy. “That what you want?”

  Kiran tossed his plate
and cup into the sink and ran upstairs. Daddy plopped back down into his seat. We were still sitting in silence when he started to play his guitar with the amp on full volume.

  Daddy pointed at Mom with his fork. “This is because of you.”

  “Oh, come on. We both agreed guitar was a suitable instrument. We have to give them small choices.” She stared down at her plate and shook her head.

  “It’s not just the guitar. It’s everything. He’s purposely doing poorly in his advanced classes, and he’s in with a bad group.” Daddy pushed his plate away. “This is a result of the last five years of you letting him have it easy. You didn’t push him enough.”

  “Maybe this has more to do with you pushing too hard.” Mom stood up and took her plate to the sink.

  Daddy closed himself in his study, and Mom went upstairs. I sat alone at the table, knowing I’d have to clean up my celebration dinner. Somehow, I didn’t think I’d ever eat Supremo’s again.

  As I washed the dishes, I couldn’t help but think my karma had plummeted so low that it now affected my entire family.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lacy’s mom had been eager to get Study Buddies started but had made it very clear that no one was to find out that Lacy was getting extra help. She called Mr. McKanna, who then explained to me that tutoring Lacy at school would lower Lacy’s self-confidence, which was already lacking in math. I nodded like I agreed, but I knew the only thing Lacy lacked was the ability to be nice.

  As we were packing our bags at the end of the day, Ginny said bye and headed over to Mrs. Clark’s room. “I hope she wants to talk about the recycling club.”

  “But it’s anonymous.”

  “Like anyone else has recycling magnets all over their locker or wears shirts like this.” She pulled her T-shirt at the bottom to make her point. It was a girl hugging a tree and the tree branches hugging her back.

  “True. Well, my fingers are crossed for you.”