Blending Out

by Priyanka Bagrodia

  “Oh, it definitely takes diligence to strike the balance. I have to work out in the mornings at eight on the dot; otherwise, it just doesn’t happen. And I go straight to the library after classes and study for at least five hours before letting myself go home to do something else.”

  “Got you. Sticking to a schedule makes sense.” She rocked back onto her heels, thinking they’d forged a decent enough connection for the day.

  “Yeah, it’s been a relatively easy transition for me because of what I did before.” He left the hook dangling there and she was too stupid a fish not to bite.

  “What did you do before law school?”

  “Boring stuff, not worth talking about.” She couldn’t pull out now; he was resting a hand on her arm, invested.

  “Hm, okay, try me,” she said.

  He explained his job in finance and she nodded along enthusiastically. David wasn’t insufferable, just driven, she decided, and he would pause intermittently, to see if she was still engaged. Ryley invariably was.

  Sometimes, David turned the conversation back to her, asking her about her life before law school, and she’d recite the same lines she’d said to others during Orientation, making sure her intonation was upbeat and spontaneous. Then she’d toss the metaphorical talking stick back to him, and he’d take it gladly.

  As she got more comfortable, she started poking fun at him, softly, testing him out; she brought up facts she’d learned five minutes ago and took possession of them with a familiarity reserved for exchanges between two longtime friends. David laughed loudly; out of the corner of her eye, she saw others look over at them. She kept her eyes focused on David’s face, even as she gestured with her arms more than necessary, animating their conversation.

  She wondered if others thought they were hitting it off, if he thought they were hitting it off, if she thought they were hitting it off. Eventually, their conversation tapered to a natural stopping point, and she let the pause linger this time, waiting to see what he’d do. He looked over her shoulder, and she opened her mouth to beat him into being the first person to say she needed another drink. Or that she needed to use the bathroom seeing as they were standing near the drinks table already.

  Before she could say anything, he called out, “Olivia! Come over here.” He stayed standing near Ryley.

  Ryley half-turned her body to face Olivia. She remembered her. Olivia was Harrison’s friend. This time Olivia was wearing a tube crop top over flowy lounge pants, her dark brown hair twisted tightly into a bun. Ryley didn’t know why Olivia was making such an effort to stand out. She was at law school, not Coachella. Ryley was well within her rights to make jabs like that; she’d been to Coachella. She made a mental note to mention that more.

  “Olivia, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you were friends with Ali?” he asked, while giving her a side-hug.

  “We had a couple of classes together in undergrad,” Olivia responded before looking over at Ryley.

  David jumped to introduce them. “Olivia, this is Ryley—she’s in my Section. Ryley, Olivia—we both went to Harvard for undergrad.”

  “Hi,” Ryley said neutrally, curious to see if Olivia would acknowledge they’d met before.

  “Hey, you,” Olivia responded with an air of familiarity Ryley wouldn’t have expected. “How did your first week go?” Her lips were stretched into a wide smile, her obsidian eyes trained on Ryley with an intensity that surprised her. She’d have thought she was too conventional for a girl like Olivia and David wasn’t exactly winning awards for being counter-culture.

  “Good! Not as bad as I was expecting and I’m slowly getting to know people in my Section.” She gestured at David as she said this, pausing to see if he wanted to chime in. He didn’t, looking down at something on his phone, so Ryley continued, “What about you?”

  “About the same as you. Harrison’s been a doll.” Olivia said his name slightly possessively, in a way that made Ryley want to assert her sibling trump. She refrained. Olivia could have him.

  Before either girl could decide if they wanted to push the conversation forward, David spoke up. “I have to get going. I want to get up early tomorrow to do the readings.” He hesitated and then turned to Ryley and asked, “Can I have your number?”

  He was cute; Mark had listed him on his Eligible Bachelors list. She responded with an earnest, “Yes!”

  He gave her his phone, and after she handed it back to him, he commented, “Oh, cool spelling of Ryley. Is it Indian?”

  Ryley saw Olivia grimace, but Ryley ignored her—she didn’t understand why Olivia was still standing there in the first place—and gave him a smile. “No. I think my parents just wanted me to have a unique name without giving me something Americans would have a hard time with.”

  “Got it. I don’t know many Indians. You’re my first!” He gave her a huge smile as he said this.

  She didn’t quite know what to do with her face in response. Seeing her expression, he hastened to say, “No, like I’ve met Indians before, of course I have. But I’ve never been friends with one. Not that I have anything against Indians. I just feel like sometimes there’s a cultural divide or something, and I don’t know how to relate. You’re different, you know? You’re not like Indian-Indian. It’s cool. You’re cool.”

  Ryley saw that the tips of his ears had turned bright red and hurried to interrupt him before he could continue. “Oh, yeah, totally get what you mean, no worries.” He hadn’t meant any harm; she was flattered if anything. She noted his use of “friend” though and decided she’d have to dissect that later in the night.

  David, still slightly flushed, gave her a flustered smile, a wave, and then walked away, barely nodding a goodbye to Olivia. The dichotomy between this David and the David of five minutes before was startling.

  Olivia stayed near her after David had walked away, evaluating her silently. Ryley would have liked to know what she was thinking, like if she thought Ryley and David would make a cute couple. She wanted to ask, to get an objective perspective from a girl like Olivia who oozed confidence and who had boys eying her even now. Instead, feeling awkward, Ryley said, “I’m going to get a drink.” To make it seem like less of a brush-off and because they were already right next to the drinks table, she asked, “Do you want anything?”

  Olivia responded, “No, I don’t drink.” Ryley nodded and said nothing further, turning her body half away to get another beer. She opened her mouth to ask what Olivia did to decompress then, but Olivia was already walking away. Before she got too far though, Olivia turned back to Ryley, said, “I think you could do better,” and then slipped away into a crowd of people huddled by the kitchen.

  PART II

  NOVEMBER

  CHAPTER 7

  NOVEMBER 2008

  Ryley was running late, but she desperately ran her hands along the carpet, trying to find her lucky necklace. It was a simple silver chain with an elephant pendant, and because the chain was so long, she could usually keep it tucked away and hidden underneath whatever shirt she was wearing that day. She especially needed it today, but she had yanked it off when she had woken up in the middle of the night only to feel it choking her. Of all the ways she’d imagined herself dying, asphyxiation by elephant necklace was not one of them (she had a sad preoccupation with death and the idea of being taken from the world too early for people to appreciate the talents of one Ryley Agarwal).

  As she raced around her room, she heard echoes of conversation drift in through the open door; two seniors named Callie and Carly were sitting downstairs, talking with her mom. Both were broad-boned brunettes with pleasant, potentially bland features. They were the captains of the softball team and had barged into her room ten minutes ago, rudely waking her from a dream in which she could talk to dolphins and was saving them from extinction. They were at her house at eight a.m. on a slightly foggy Saturday morning in order to “kidnap her”—i.e., take her to IHOP in her pajamas for a team bonding brunch. At least she’d had her grown
-up pajamas on: a cotton gray tank top over plain navy bottoms. She was thankful her mom had forced her to change out of her normal, ratty sleepwear last night and was thankful she had been too tired to lecture her mom about overstepping.

  She wished her mom had also done her the courtesy of stuffing away all the childhood Beanie Babies perched on the window sill and of tucking away all the photos displaying her with braces and a bowl cut. Luckily, her room was otherwise devoid of personality: she didn’t have posters of anything, the walls were a neutral beige, and her black, nondescript metal bookcase was filled with schoolbooks and very standard assorted fiction and nonfiction. Even as Ryley changed up her haircut, updated her wardrobe, etc., her mom still encouraged Ryley to express herself fully and without filter within the four walls of her room, but Ryley didn’t know what she should fill her walls up with. She didn’t know who Inside Ryley was and didn’t want to make the discrepancy between Outside Ryley and Inside Ryley worse than it had to be when she was wholeheartedly committed to developing an Outside Ryley that fit.

  After five more minutes of fruitless searching, she finally gave up on finding her necklace and went downstairs. Her mom had Callie and Carly chuckling merrily away, and Ryley found herself momentarily unsure as she stood there hovering in the doorway, not wanting to intrude. These girls intimidated her with the casual, offhanded way they talked about alcohol, boys, and drugs.

  Upon seeing Ryley hovering there uncertainly, her mom quickly and assuredly beckoned her in. “Girls, looks like Sleeping Beauty is ready to go. Now I can finally go get my iced coffee.” Her mom shot her a fond smile as she said this, even as the two seniors laughed. Her mom was as talented as ever at playing a part; she knew her mom would just make herself a cup of chai.

  “Well, girls, you should get going. You don’t want to be late.” Her mom, seeing Ryley still frozen by the door, decided to get up and physically nudge Ryley along.

  Callie and Carly thanked her mom profusely as the four strode across the formal black and white marble tile that made up the rather imposing foyer to the house.

  As they exited, Ryley’s mom said, “You two will keep an eye on my girl, right?”

  Carly nodded and said, “Of course, we’ll look out for Rye-Rye,” before heading over to the car.

  Ryley’s mom grabbed her arm before she could exit, gave her a quick side hug, and said, “Ryley, relax, and have fun. Give them a chance.”

  Ryley responded with a small, tight smile and followed the two girls out the door.

  * * *

  Ryley entered IHOP slightly grumpy but determined to keep an open mind. She loved her sleep, and so far, the morning hadn’t been worth cutting into her required eight-hour minimum. Ryley had chimed in with the odd comment here and there but stayed mostly quiet on the car ride over as the two seniors had bickered over radio stations in a light-hearted, familiar way. They’d picked up one other girl, Kyle, who Ryley still didn’t know very well and who hadn’t made any particular effort to speak to Ryley, closing her eyes immediately. Kind of a buzzkill.

  As they walked deeper into the restaurant, Ryley looked around; she’d never been to this IHOP before. The tables were the same beige brown as the walls, and this IHOP looked identical to others she’d visited in that they’d chosen to do nothing in the way of actual ambiance. The smell of maple syrup and melted butter did warm her soul though. She followed the other girls into a semi-private dining area set off from the rest of the restaurant with a wall that only went up to her hip. All the other girls on the team were already seated, gathered four to a table.

  Everyone in the room shouted, “Finally!” upon seeing the captains, and Carly and Callie made good-natured heckles back while pointing Ryley and Kyle to the two open seats remaining near the other sophomores. As the two quickly and quietly took their place, the captains immediately started speaking, pontificating on the importance of teamwork and what the softball team meant to them. Ryley was charmed by the wholesomeness of it all. She liked how the captains made eye contact with each of the sophomores in turn and how Carly held Ryley’s gaze when she said, “Welcome to your second family.” When their speech came to an end, they waved over two other seniors who carried a large, brown box up with them.

  After pausing for dramatic effect, Callie said, “Now for the fun part! We’re going to call each of you forward and give you a cardboard plate with a word on it that we thought fit you. You will also get to wear one of these fun purple boas!”

  Carly followed up, saying, “First, Ryley.”

  Ryley pulled a face but stood up to the sound of what was at least enthusiastic clapping. The one benefit of going first was that no one was tired yet.

  She walked briskly over to Carly and Callie, keeping her gaze fixed on the box to calm her nerves. She wished her heart wouldn’t thump so fast; she felt light-headed.

  “Ryley!” Callie exclaimed as she came closer. “We decided to give you safe because you’re a good, wholesome kid. We look forward to corrupting you!”

  Ryley gave them a hesitant grin in return. She disliked how they’d infantilized her, but then again, she did have a collection of Beanie Babies on her window sill and she’d not had the chance to make any substantive progress in rebranding herself. At least they’d implied she was one of them now.

  Carly, seeing Ryley’s slightly pained smile, said, in an undertone, “Don’t be embarrassed. Safe is good! And besides, we’re going to cure you of that real quick. We always have a legendary pregame for Homecoming!”

  Given that Ryley only tentatively nodded in response, Carly lightly grabbed on to Ryley’s sleeve before she could walk away and added, “You’re family now and you’ll have more fun if you relax—channel your mom!”

  Carly’s efforts to comfort her appealed to her more than her words did, but nevertheless, she shot Carly as genuine a smile as she could muster and wrapped the unappealing boa around her neck. She felt only slightly resentful of Callie and Carly as she heard the words some of the other sophomores got. Kyle, who Ryley had yet to see show any emotion other than general standoffishness, had gotten party girl—which was two words, not one. Uptight, perfectionist Maddie, who had yelled at Ryley for messing up a play, had gotten spirited. Ryley stopped paying attention after that.

  The rest of the breakfast continued without incident until Anu, the one other Indian on the team, intercepted Ryley as she was going up to the buffet table for a second serving. Anu had a sweet, round face, big brown eyes, and thick black hair she usually wore in the form of a tight braid. She was short, clocking in at a more normal Indian height, and stocky.

  “Hey, your mom called mine to see if I could bring you over to our house directly, so she wouldn’t have to drive all the way here just to go back to the Westside. Are you good to leave in ten?” Anu’s parents regularly invited hers over to one of their Indian-centric gatherings that took place once a month, but those always felt like a secret, done as a sort of escape into an alternative world for their parents.

  “Oh, yeah, that would be great. Thanks for the ride.” Ryley was curious how the drive with Anu would go; they’d never hung out one-on-one. Anu was a junior and kept mostly to herself at the practices they were just beginning to have, given that softball season didn’t start until the spring. Furthermore, only a couple of Indians chose to hang out with each other inside the school bounds; most stayed separate. Perhaps they too feared being labeled a FOB (Fresh Off the Boat) or feared they would come off as making no effort if they didn’t at least hang out with the East Asians. Importantly, the East Asians had critical mass, with enough people they didn’t seem to care what the rest of the school thought of them. In contrast, there were only five or six Indians per grade, hardly enough to form some sort of wolfpack.

  After around twenty minutes elapsed—the aforementioned ten minutes in Indian Standard Time—the two said their goodbyes to the rest of the team. There was little fanfare apart from Carly giving Ryley an over-the-top hug, having decided it was her solemn
duty to take Ryley under her wing.

  Anu immediately turned on the radio station and popped the top upon entering her convertible. With the wind and the music, it would be almost impossible to carry a conversation, not that Ryley minded. She was content to sit in relative silence as she let herself relax, already dropping shields she no longer consciously registered putting up. They didn’t have anything in common, but Anu was as, if not more, out of place. She’d seen Anu’s childhood bedroom that had all the expected posters of Justin Timberlake and Edward Cullen from Twilight. But Anu also had a lightsaber propped against her closet door and had numerous Bollywood movies and dance sequences saved on her computer.

  Anu’s parents frequently made Anu perform Bharatanatyam (a type of Indian classical dance) at their gatherings, and although Anu would moan and drag her feet, she was so good at dancing that Ryley was invariably awed. That being said, the two times they’d both been invited to the same Sweet Sixteen Blowout party, Anu had not danced at all to the Britney Spears classics blasting. Instead, she’d stayed in the corner, awkwardly bopping up and down on her feet. Ryley had done the same awkward bopping up and down, but at least she’d been in a circle of friends.

  Indeed, though one would be justified in thinking otherwise, Ryley had more than enough “friends.” She just had no Starsky to her Hutch, no Timon to her Pumbaa. She used to be close to a couple of girls, Jane and Lisa, who alongside her had been part of a larger established fifteen-person friend group. They’d go to the movies, have the occasional sleepover, talk about things like The Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and life was good. However, everything had changed once they’d begun tenth grade, leaving the middle school campus and arriving at the upper school one. Jane had gotten into her studies and liked playing up that she was a nerd, and Lisa had gotten into boys and singing, and began to hang out with the cool, artsy kids. Ryley disliked talking about material outside the confines of class and so lacked the outward academic intensity necessary to hang with the former but also lacked the nonchalant ennui necessary to hang with the latter.