by Marie Lamba
“But you haven’t finished your burger,” Mom says. Raina gives her a pained look and Mom nods her head. Raina brings her plate to the counter and leaves the room.
“So who is this savior?” Hari asks, dragging a French fry through the mound of ketchup on his plate.
“His name’s Cameron,” I say.
“You don’t mean Cameron Cerulli?”
I nod. Hari frowns.
“Why?” Dad says. “Do you know him?”
“He’s nice,” I say. “Right, Hari?” I stare daggers at my brother, who reluctantly nods.
“Nice.” Dad pushes his plate away. “Sangeet, you know how I feel about all this boy garbage. You’d better bring this young man around so I can meet him.”
“Scare the crap out of him is more like it,” Hari says. He stuffs a handful of fries into his mouth.
“Hari, language,” Mom says. He mumbles a full-mouth apology.
The phone rings. Mom rises to answer it while I quickly change the subject to the Fourth of July, which is in just two short days. “We have to do it up right,” I say. “For Raina. Show her some American stuff.”
“Let’s take her to the Fourth of July picnic at Fonthill,” Doodles says, bouncing in her seat with excitement. Every year the castle hosts a huge party on its lawn with traditional music, re-enactors, sack races, picnicking, things like that.
“And after that we should barbecue,” Hari says, licking his fingers. “Make ribs, and corn on the cob and apple pie.”
“Forget that,” Doodles says. “I just want s’mores.”
We all start debating how to make perfect s’mores, and whether they taste better with the marshmallows toasted or completely burnt, when Mom returns to the table rosy-cheeked. “I got it,” she says.
“Marshmallows?” Doodles asks.
“The job,” Mom says.
“Already?” I say. “You just interviewed.”
“I know,” she says. “They must be desperate.”
“You’re just too good to pass up,” Hari says. “Congratulations, Mom.”
“We’re rich!” Doodles says.
“Not exactly,” Mom says.
“Wait,” Dad says. “What job?”
Dad looks confused as Mom tells him about her new job at the community college. “It’s in the Admissions Office, and there’s some computer work and typing. The pay’s not great, but it’s better than nothing. And I even get some pension benefits. I start next week.”
Dad wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it by his plate. “Lena, I told you we didn’t have to worry.”
“I’m not worried. I just thought that with Doodles getting older, it was time for me to get back into the workforce. Be useful.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“So we don’t have marshmallows?” Doodles asks.
“Shh.” I nudge her.
Mom and Dad stare at each other across the table.
“I don’t think we should talk about this right now,” Dad says at last.
“Of course not,” Mom says. More staring.
“Doodles,” Hari says, “why don’t you and I drive to Acme, so we can stock up on marshmallows?”
Doodles jumps from her seat. “Don’t forget chocolate and graham crackers.”
“Right.” He grabs her hand and leads her away.
I stand and start clearing plates. “Leave those,” Dad says.
As soon as I leave, they go at it. Not yelling and screaming and throwing things, like normal people do. Instead their arguments are phrases filled with disappointment and guilt.
I reach the stairs and sit. It’s the perfect place to listen in. I know it’s not the most decent thing to do, but I’m not perfect like Raina, now am I?
“We’ve got the medical bills all covered, so why are you doing this?” Dad says.
“Because we don’t have them covered. There’s more and more added on.”
“Bobby-ji said it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“But he still has that fever, doesn’t he? More time in the hospital means more money. Anyway, that’s not the point. I’m so thankful we can help him. I wouldn’t begrudge him a cent.”
“I’m not saying that you would. I’m just saying that nothing needs to change. We’re managing fine.”
“Now. But in twenty years, everything won’t be fine. Akash, you have to face this.”
“Lena, you know I’m fine with you working, if that’s something you really want to do. But the children are used to you being here for them. Do we really need any more changes in our lives right now?”
“I just want to help. I feel so helpless.”
“Me too.”
Me three, I think.
There’s a long silence. I hear a chair scrape on the floor. Dad is striding toward me. I cringe and shrink to invisible as he passes me on the stairs and shuts his bedroom door.
That was awkward.
The phone rings. Anxious to get out of sight, I hurry to my room to get it. I expect to find Raina at my computer, but instead she’s lying on her bed, her wrist over her eyes. I snatch the cordless. “Hello?”
“What did you say to Megan? What?” I’ve never heard David Jovanovich on the phone before. He sounds squeaky and nasal. “She won’t speak with me. I am beside myself.”
“Yeah, well apparently that’s not the only person you’ve been beside.”
“I’m perplexed.”
“You’re perverted.”
Raina lowers her wrist and sits up.
“Miss Jumnal, that is uncalled for. How dare you speak to me like this!”
“Stop talking like you’re sixty years old. And how dare you do this to my friend? She’s not talking to me now and it’s all your fault.” And the only reason Megan said what she did about Dalton was because she was so upset. When you get down to it, everything is David’s fault.
“But what did I do?” David says.
“I saw you. You and that Liselle. Remember, sweetie? I can’t believe you.”
“Well, why not?”
“Why not?” Arrgggh! I pull the phone from my ear and strangle it with both hands. When I put it back to my ear he’s in the middle of going on and on about Megan’s trip and how she’ll be away for so long.
“So that’s why you did this? Because you couldn’t stand for her to go away for two weeks?”
“Of course.”
“David Jovanovich, you may be book smart, but you have got to be one of the biggest idiots I have ever met,” I say and hang up. “Raina, guys are completely brainless morons.”
Raina bites her lip and runs to the bathroom.
I hope she’s okay.
And I hope Megan’s okay. I should call her to tell her how I stood up to that jerk. If she’s not talking to David, then she must have seen the light. So I do call. But as soon as I say hi, she says, “I am not interested in talking to you. Understand?” And hangs up.
I don’t understand. I really don’t.
Chapter 16
The next day, after morning lessons and then lunch, I take Poopsie for a walk around the block. Hari tags along. I soon find out why.
“Sang, Cameron Cerulli is a total player,” Hari says. “In high school that kid went through girls like I go through a refrigerator.”
“He’s nothing like that,” I say. Suddenly I’m remembering being rescued, and that wonderful, glorious kiss. And during today’s class, the sweet way he looked deeply into my eyes. Of course the talk was all about swimming, but his eyes seemed to say much more. And I’m remembering how he always speaks so gently to the little girls in the class when they’re scared. “Hari, I don’t have time for this,” I say. I tug Poopsie’s leash, leading her away from a tree where she’s had an especially long sniff. We start walking faster.
“Well you better make time,” Hari says, hurrying alongside me. “I didn’t really know Cameron or any of his wrestling jock buddies, but I did overhear him talking in the locker room sometimes. He was always bragging about what he did
with some girl. Stay away from him.”
“Sure.”
Within the half hour I’m back at the pool. It’s private lesson time with Cameron. This was worth the extra twenty-two dollars I had to beg from Doodles. Most of it was in quarters, because she gave me most of her bills last time. When I handed him the zip-lock full of quarters, it was kind of embarrassing, but hey, you do what you have to do.
Still, I’m here, he’s here, and he’s smiling at me. We’re talking about the little girls in his Non-swimmer class, about my trips to India and about how he wants to travel all over Europe someday. About how I love to read and he loves to drive.
“Maybe you should become a race car driver,” I say.
“I said that to my mom once. She just about killed me.”
I crack up.
“Don’t laugh. My mom’s like five foot two, but she could still put me in a head-lock if she really wanted to.”
“She’s just trying to keep you safe. Parents are protective. Why do you think I’m taking swim lessons?”
“Yeah. But I feel like I should be looking out for her.”
I stare into those gold-flecked eyes and I no longer have a clue what he’s saying. Something about conquering my fears. I feel like we have so much in common. Like we click.
I wonder how I could have ever thought I was into Gary. How Dalton’s kiss ever affected me. I think my gut is telling me Cameron Cerulli is the one.
Where does Hari get off forbidding me to see him? I know Cameron better than Hari ever did, right? And each time we’re together, I get to know him a little bit more…
Cameron’s stopped talking. He’s staring back into my eyes.
Tweeet!
We both jump. Trish is sitting on the guard stand with her whistle at her lips.
Cameron glares at her. “What?”
She gives us a poisonous look, pops her gum, and twirls her whistle.
I whisper, “I think your girlfriend is jealous.”
“She is not my girlfriend.”
“Really?” I try not to smile.
“Really. Okay. Let’s try floating one more time. You have to get this, Sang.”
I shake my head.
“Hmm.” He picks me up and carries me deeper into the water.
I hold on tight. The thrill of clinging to his bare chest mixed with the terror of certain death makes me dizzy. “W-what are you doing?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Sure.” I giggle nervously.
He stops walking and I’m in water deeper than I’ve ever been, not counting my two drowning episodes. “Okay, Sang. You know I will save you if you need saving. So relax. And float. Let go.”
“No. I can’t.”
Cameron sighs. “Maybe we need to make this interesting.” He bites his lip. I want to bite his lip. “If you don’t float, no more private lessons.”
“But what’s the point of that?”
“Ah-ah,” he says. “Hear me out. If you do float, I will take you out on a date.”
“A date?” I practically choke on the words. My heart races. My mind races. He must like me. Really like me.
“Yeah. I’ll pick you up in my car and we’ll go somewhere,” he says. “How’s that sound?”
He pushes me away from him and it’s so easy.
I mean, I was already floating.
*****
“What can I wear? I don’t have anything to wear.” I pull tops out of my dresser and skirts out of my closet. Everything is too little girlish.
Raina eyes the clothes covering my bed, her bed, and the mound of her clothes that has grown on the floor beside her suitcase. “Well, where are you going?” she asks.
“That’s just it. I don’t know. In a car. On a date. That’s it!” I grab fistfuls of tops from my bed and stuff them back into my drawers. “It’s useless. What was I thinking?”
“It isn’t useless.”
“It is. He’s so much older than me. What’s he see in me anyway? It’s not like I’m going to put out like Trish.” My voice rises as I start to panic. “What if he thinks I’m going to put out? Worse, what if this is just something nice he’s doing for some high schooler so she’ll stop drowning every time he goes to work?”
“Sang, calm down. Sit.” She shoves some of my jeans off her bed and makes me sit and breathe. “You have to relax.”
“Raina, what was I thinking? Do you think Cameron is just some player?”
“Playing what?”
“Never mind. That’s stupid. I’m stupid.”
“Look,” she says, sitting beside me, “you told me you felt you two connected, right? No one can explain romance. Older, younger, what’s the difference? If two souls are meant for each other, they just are.”
“You believe that?”
Raina gets a sad and faraway look in her eyes. “I have to,” she whispers. She pats my hand and smiles. “Uncle-ji will like him and everything will be wonderful.”
I pull my hand away. “Oh no. Uncle-ji will most definitely not approve. Which is why I need you to cover for me.”
She stands. “I don’t know, Sang. Uncle and Auntie-ji have been so good to me. I wouldn’t feel right.”
“Nobody feels right about this stuff. But what if Cameron and I are meant for each other? What if I think he might be the one? Wouldn’t you tell a little lie for true love?”
“Yes.” Raina suddenly grabs my hand. “In a heartbeat.” She says, “You know, I think I may have something you can wear.” She shifts clothes from her suitcase onto the floor until she comes to a wrap top made of shimmery blue silk. She lifts it and a photo flutters from its folds, landing by my feet.
Raina grabs for the picture, but I beat her to it. It’s of the same guy I saw her looking at on the computer. He has a warm smile and black rectangular glasses. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and standing in front of some ancient stone temple. “Who’s this?”
“Nobody.”
“Raina, come on. Who is this?”
She takes the photo and runs her finger along it. “Just a friend.” She gives a sad shrug. “Nothing more.” She drops the picture into her suitcase and looks away, but not before I notice tears sparkling on her eyelashes.
I want to ask her what’s wrong. I bite my lip.
“So what do I need to tell your parents?” she says.
“Never mind. You shouldn’t have to lie for me. You don’t need to say anything.”
“But I think I do.” She sits. “Sang, his name is Sanjay.” Raina tells me all about her heartache. How she fell in love. How her parents split them up. Then how she just learned over the Internet that he is engaged to someone else.
It’s like the flood all over again, I’m crying so much. Raina hands me the tissue box. “It’s so sad,” I say. “How could he do that to you?” I blow my nose. “Here.” I hand her back the tissue box.
“I’m all cried out,” she says, setting it on the floor. “And I don’t think he did it. Not my Sanjay. He must have been forced by his parents.”
“Oh, Raina. I’m so sorry. Here I’ve been going on and on about my stupid little problems with guys, and all this while you’ve been sitting here suffering. Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least tell me to shut up?”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay, Sang. There’s nothing you could have done. Nothing I could have done. Once my parents discovered there was something between us, it was all over.”
“But didn’t you tell them you were in love?”
“Love. What’s that anyway? All they know is that I am too young to date. That Sanjay is older than me. To make things worse, his last name is Patel.”
“Patel. That Indian food store we go to is called Patel’s. What’s the problem with a Patel?”
“Nothing, if your parents are Hindu. My parents say I will only marry a Sikh. And that’s that.”
“Raina, forget that crap. My mom’s a Catholic, and she married my dad.”
“I know. My parents love Auntie, b
ut it doesn’t change their beliefs. And how I feel doesn’t matter in their grand scheme of things. When Taoji fell ill, my parents could have left me home with my mother’s cousins, but they wanted to separate me from Sanjay so that I would forget him. I decided I wouldn’t forget and I thought Sanjay would wait for me. A mere month or two. Then I get an email from my friend, telling all she heard about the Patel engagement. And not a word from him.”
Suddenly she dives for the tissue box.
“God, Raina. I am so so sorry. Listen, I’ll cancel with Cameron. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“No!” She blots her eyes. “Don’t you see, Sang? You have to go out with Cameron. You are getting the chance I didn’t have with Sanjay.” She grabs my hand. “Don’t you dare throw it away.”
Chapter 17
I tell Cameron to pick me up at Mrs. Schnapps’ house, which is four houses away from home. I tell my parents I’m off to help Megan buy a dress for the party and hang out at her house afterward. Mom asks Raina why she isn’t going with me. Raina smoothly explains that Megan and I have been fighting, and so we need some time on our own. She even says that this night out together was her idea. Nice touch.
Dad eyes my silk shirt and gold necklace suspiciously. I say I’m getting picked up at the Schnapps’ house so I can take care of Poopsie first.
“Hmm, good,” Dad says. “Very responsible.”
When I open the Schnapps’ door, Poopsie comes running, her toenails clicking on the wooden floor. “Hey, Poops. Let’s make this quick.” I take her for a whirl around the yard and load up her food and water bowls. While Poopsie crunches away on her kibble, I sit in the wing chair by the front window waiting.
Poopsie stops eating in mid-crunch and starts to growl as a red Mustang pulls into the drive. The dog races to the door, yipping furiously.
“Bye, Poopsie,” I say, giving her a rub. I leave and lock the door behind me. Cameron waves and I start to feel a little nervous. His car windows are up, but this is no match for his music, which is so loud the car is throbbing. I open the car door and I’m blasted with a combo of AC and bass. He kills the music. “Hey.”