The tiffin. The cake. The ruined posters. The chewed-up surfboard. The wobbly shelf. It was all caused by Scooter? I thought about him being scrunched up in David’s waist pack all day, being fed through a tiny opening in the zipper. Poor thing must have been wanting out for a while. And on Friday, David had been so anxious.
“Sorry, Karma,” David said, his shoulders still shaking. “I wanted to tell you . . .”
“It’s okay.” I reached over and patted his hunched back. It was hard to be mad at David or Scooter. David had only been trying to protect Scooter, and Scooter—well, he was a gerbil, and he probably just wanted a taste of freedom—and cake.
I stood up as Ms. Hillary guided David to her desk, and most of the class followed. A hand rested on my shoulder. I turned, expecting Ginny, but it was Sara. I wanted to pull away and ignore her, just like she’d done to me ever since Lacy had come to the pool with her that day.
“I can’t believe David had a gerbil at school this whole time. I had no idea.”
“Yep.” It stung that she only believed Lacy’s cake disaster wasn’t my fault now because Ms. Hillary had explained what had happened.
Ginny looked up from David’s side and smiled. Her eyes flicked to Sara, and her smile faltered slightly.
“Listen, Karma,” Sara said, keeping her hand on my shoulder. “I’m really sorry. About everything. I really am.”
I laughed—half scoff, half real. On the one hand it was a relief to hear Sara say sorry, but on the other, her sorry came after we’d found Scooter dead and Lacy had dropped her as a friend.
I opened my mouth to tell her that, but the sharpness of my thoughts smoothed as they reached my mouth. Then I noticed her chipped nail polish and how she’d traded her skirt for a pair of jeans today. Sara wasn’t old Sara anymore, but she wasn’t exactly new Sara either. She was Sara-here-and-now.
“I’m sorry too,” I said. “I haven’t really been myself. Well, actually I have been, but I don’t want to be. I mean, I don’t want to be jealous. And I think it’s a good idea to have other friends.” My eyes searched for Ginny, who was with the rest of the class hovering around Ms. Hillary’s desk. Ginny stood at David’s side, her arm around him as he told everyone about Scooter.
“I never meant to leave you like that,” Sara said. “I wanted to be friends with Lacy, but I still wanted to be friends with you. Then it just got really confusing. That day in the bathroom, I wanted to make up, but I guess I was just too mad. Not really at you, more at myself. I actually dialed your house number that night but never pushed send. I don’t know why.”
This time my laugh came out 100 percent real. “I did the same thing the other day,” I said, thinking of lying on my bed with the phone in my sweaty hands, wondering what in the world I’d say.
Sara grabbed me in a big hug. All the awkwardness was erased.
“Do over?” Sara asked.
That was Ruthie’s way of getting out of trouble with their mom, by asking for a second chance. The reminder that our friendship went so deep that we didn’t have to explain things to each other made talking with Sara fill me the way hot rice and dal filled me. It was a comforting, familiar sort of feeling that held with it memories and an understanding that no matter what changed, dal and rice always tasted the same.
Things weren’t exactly the same as the old way, but I was learning to be comfortable in the newness.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lacy stood opposite me in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest and her bottom lip hidden under her teeth. Ms. Hillary held the gnawed-on surfboard in her hand.
“Well, Lacy. It’s obvious that Karma was not to blame for your cake on Friday,” Ms. Hillary said. “Is there anything you want to say to Karma?”
It felt like kindergarten all over again.
“Sorry.” Lacy cocked her head and flashed me a fake smile.
Ms. Hillary held the surfboard toward her.
“I’m not touching that thing,” Lacy said, holding up her hands. “It’s covered in gerbil slobber.”
Ms. Hillary pulled a tissue out from her pocket and handed it to Lacy. Lacy grabbed the surfboard with the tissue but still held it away from her body.
“I hope this is all finally resolved?” Ms. Hillary said, raising her eyebrow at Lacy.
Lacy nodded.
“Follow me back to class, girls.”
When Ms. Hillary turned, Lacy whispered, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to tutor me anymore. My mom found some old lady who used to teach high school. Thanks a lot.”
She turned quickly and followed Ms. Hillary.
I couldn’t believe that everything on Friday had been because of David’s gerbil. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with my karma at all.
• • •
Wearing a jacket as I walked to school the next morning gave everything a sense of change. There was something fresh or even refreshing in the air.
I clutched the tiffin at my side and walked more slowly than normal because I wanted to enjoy the crisp air before it turned frigid in a couple of weeks and I’d have to wear a hat, scarf, and gloves. The buses were parked and unloading when I walked through the school gates.
Tom shoved past me, with Derek close behind. “Sorry, ’Stache,” Tom called without even slowing down.
I rolled my eyes. I still hated that nickname, but it didn’t make my chest burn or my face heat up the same way it had at the beginning.
Ginny stood at her locker, putting her things away, when I walked up.
“Hey, morning. Did you hear Derek and Tom’s newest?”
I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. Now what did they say about me? Okay, so maybe I lied. Maybe their insults still stung.
“Grandma Lacy.”
“That’s so stupid,” I said.
“Tell me about it.” Ginny reached into her locker and pulled out an envelope. “I got something for you. A little thank-you for helping out with the posters yesterday.”
My cheeks warmed. I hadn’t really helped. I’d ruined things and then just tried to repair it all. That wasn’t the same thing. “Um.”
“Just take it,” Ginny said with a laugh.
“Thanks.” I started to put it into my locker, not sure if Ginny wanted me to open it in front of her.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Ginny asked.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure.” I smiled and pushed my finger under the flap to rip it open. I pulled out a square bumper sticker that had the recycle triangle in green with the word “KARMA” in rainbow colors in the middle.
I held the sticker in both hands and stared at it. Ginny didn’t know about the Keep Calm and Hug Karma bumper sticker Sara had given me. Ginny and I were still school friends for the most part. She hadn’t been in my room or even to my house yet.
With new understanding, I traced my name surrounded by the recycle triangle. My eyes followed the arrows around and around the triangle. I’d been looking at this karma thing the wrong way the whole time. Even though I’d thought I’d been doing good by trying to get rid of the vices in my life, I hadn’t gotten rid of any of my worries. Instead of good stuff going round and round, I’d been letting my worries get reused again and again until I was dizzy.
“If you don’t like it . . . ,” Ginny said, letting her voice trail off.
“No. I love it! Thanks.” I hugged the bumper sticker to my chest. “Really. It’s the best. You’ll have to come over and see the bumper sticker Sara got me last year.”
Ginny looked down at her books. “It’s okay. If you want to be friends with her again, I get it.”
“We can all be friends. Okay?”
Ginny nodded but still looked unsure.
I didn’t blame her for being worried about Sara, but Dadima’s favorite thing to do when Kiran or I complained about someone was to put one of our hands into hers. She’d turn it over and make us look at our hand from all angles.
“Are any of your fingers alike?” she’d ask.
<
br /> I’d stare and try to find two fingers that looked almost alike, but I’d always end up shaking my head. None of my fingers were alike. Even my pointer and ring fingers were not alike, although they were close.
“No? Then how can you expect everyone in the world to be the same? Your hand would be useless without a thumb, and if it were all thumbs, it wouldn’t function at all. You are how you are for a reason. It’s part of a bigger picture we can’t see because we’re too small.”
Sara wasn’t the same as she had been last year, and I couldn’t be sure we wouldn’t get into another fight, but I was positive of how I felt right then—happy and not in the least bit worried.
“I’m serious. You should come over. Maybe this weekend?”
“That’d be cool,” Ginny said.
I linked my arm through Ginny’s. I couldn’t wait to get home and put her bumper sticker on my mirror next to Sara’s.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You’re holding this book because many, many people helped me. If your name isn’t here, it’s not because I forgot you—I’m saving you for the next book. ;)
Patricia Nelson, my agent, you took a chance on me, and your fierce belief in Karma has been unwavering. Thank you. Thanks also to the entire Marsal Lyon team for cheering Karma on.
Liz Kossnar, I’ve always felt in safe hands because you “get” it. xoxo
Beth Horner, you forced me to attend my first writer’s conference and endured my first attempt at finishing a story.
Lisa, Sille, and Mille Thrane, you always asked me, “Is it done yet?” and now it is! Stefania Benedetti, your excitement: priceless.
Tina Boggars, you answered that e-mail and have remained gracious with your words and time ever since.
Shelley Sly, you’ve been an inspirational critique partner throughout the entire journey.
Richelle Morgan, you always read what I send and are famous for “pulling a Richelle,” making me dig deeper. Michelle Leonard and Julie Artz, you both made Karma shine with your insights and critiques. And to all the Pennies at the Winged Pen: You are my people, and I’m better for knowing every one of you.
Brianna DuMont, you took time out of your busy schedule to sift through my tangled mess of words and find the passages that shone.
Melissa Nesbitt, you’ve been a voice of reason and sanity during “The Call” and every other step of this journey.
Thank you to the goddesses of contests: Brenda Drake for organizing and Summer Heacock for hosting Pitch Madness 2015. Green Team forever! Michelle Hauck and Amy Trueblood for hosting Sun vs. Snow and Ami Allen-Vath for mentoring and being the first to coin: #clubstache.
Fatim Jumabhoy and Fiona Hughes, you’re the reason I have any sort of social life. Brandy Slavens, you always message me at just the right time and say it like it is. Elizabeth Slamka, you are my partner in crime. Don McKanna, you allowed me to use your name, and I have the best memories of your classes.
All the Wientges, but especially Nick, Pam, Nolan, and Autumn: Your love and enthusiasm sustain me.
My children, you guys give me the desire to keep trying. My husband, you entertained my whims and answered all things Punjabi.
I thank my parents for never giving up on me and for all your years of prayers! Here it is! This is for you both.
Above all, I thank my Heavenly Father, who makes all things possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristi Wientge is originally from Ohio, where she grew up writing stories about animals, including (her favorite) a jet-setting mouse. After studying to become a teacher for children with special needs, she spent several years exploring the world from China to England, teaching her students everything from English to how to flip their eyelids inside out. She’s spent the last twelve years raising her family in her husband’s home country of Singapore, where she spends her days taking her four kids to school, Punjabi lessons, and music class. With the help of her mother-in-law, she can now make a mean curry and a super-speedy saag. Karma Khullar’s Mustache is her debut novel.
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster · New York
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 by Kristine Wientge
Jacket illustration copyright © 2017 by Serge Bloch
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Interior design by Hilary Zarycky
Jacket design by Lizzy Bromley
The text for this book was set in ITC New Baskerville.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Wientge, Kristi, author.
Title: Karma Khullar’s mustache / Kristi Wientge.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, [2017] | Summary: “A biracial Indian/Caucasian girl is nervous to begin middle school, especially since her mother is now the breadwinner of the family, her best friend may no longer be a bestie, and the appearance of the seventeen hairs over her lip that form a very unwanted mustache”
—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016024635| ISBN 9781481477703 (hardcover) |
ISBN 9781481477727 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Middle schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Best friends—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Racially mixed people—Fiction. | East Indian Americans—Fiction. | Mustaches—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.W492 Kar 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016024635
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