Disowned

by Tikiri

  I kept a sharp eye open all night.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Honk!

  I jerked awake, banging the back of my head against the wall. Where am I?

  My head was heavy, like I’d drunk too much rum. My mouth felt cakey and my arms and legs felt numb. It took a few seconds to situate myself.

  We were still inside the airport bathroom, and the clock on the wall said it was four thirty in the morning. Our flight was going to leave in half an hour. I sat up, panicking. We need to get to the departure gate!

  Next to me Katy was gently snoring. “Katy,” I whispered loudly, but she didn’t budge.

  Other than the honk that woke me up, things were quiet outside. Deadly quiet. It was that eerie time which was no longer night, but not fully morning either. I got up, feeling stiffer than a plank, and tiptoed to the door.

  Outside, I could no longer hear the hum of people or announcements over the PA system. One lone security guard was patrolling the corridor. I watched him walk up and down, his mouth moving rhythmically, like he was chewing gum. His station was a few feet from the entrance to the washrooms. From the corner of my eye, I saw a movement. It was Ashok. Still here? He sat looking like a long-distance traveler waiting for the next flight on his itinerary. We’d been very lucky. Without the security guard, the men would have barged in here without a moment’s hesitation.

  Honk!

  A golf cart driven by a second guard, a female guard, swung into the corridor and stopped next to the patrolling one. The two chatted for a while, heads bowed. I leaned in to hear better, and it suddenly occurred to me what we had to do.

  I dashed back inside and shook Katy by the shoulders. “Wake up!” She stirred but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Get up! We gotta go!”

  She turned away and snuggled deeper into her jacket.

  I let her go of her shoulders and ran back to the door. The female security guard had already got back in her cart and was looking like she was ready to leave. She waved at her colleague and gunned her engine. Just as she took off, I dashed out of the bathroom, waving my arms and yelling.

  “Help!” I said. “Hey!”

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw Ashok, like a cat sighting prey, pounce in my direction. The security cart screeched to a halt within inches of me, and at the same time, I saw Dick grab Ashok by his shirt collar and pull him back. Dick’s here too?

  “Help!”

  “You tryna kill yourself?” barked the guard in the cart.

  The male guard ran over. “What’s going on here?” he asked, a frown on his face.

  “Please help us,” I said. “My friend’s really sick.” I pointed toward the washroom. “She’s in there.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  The female guard got out of the cart, gave a nod to her companion and said “I got this.” I dashed into the washroom, shouting, “Katy! Katy!” The guard followed, the key chain on her belt jangling loudly with every step. She stopped when she saw Katy asleep on her suitcase on the floor.

  “What are you doing here at this time of the night?” she asked. “You can’t sleep in here.”

  “We have a plane to catch and we’re really late. And my friend’s not feeling good,” I said, pointing to Katy.

  The guard stood with her legs apart surveying us. With her dark paramilitary uniform, spiky blonde hair, and pudgy jowls, she looked more like a prison guard than someone who worked for an airport whose slogan was “Welcome on Board.” All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision.

  Katy blinked her eyes and sat up slowly. “What’s going on?” she said.

  The guard surveyed her closely. “She looks sleepy, not sick. So what’s the matter with you?”

  Katy gave her a confused look. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “A bad period,” I said quickly. “A really bad one.”

  The guard raised an eyebrow. “Sick from weed more like it,” she said. “Open up, ladies. Show me what you have in there.”

  Katy and I stared at her.

  “I said open up. You can’t hide these things from me.”

  “You think we have drugs?” I said, shocked she’d even suspect that. “We don’t have any.”

  “That’s what they all say. Let me be the judge of that.” The guard pushed Katy off her suitcase, pulled open the zipper, and started pulling things out one after the other, some falling onto the washroom floor.

  “Hey, don’t do that!” Katy said. “Asha, what’s going on?”

  I couldn’t do anything other than watch her, knowing the minutes were ticking away.

  The guard was thorough. She went through Katy’s clothes one by one, picking them up with the tips of her fingers, holding them out, and sniffing them like a bloodhound. She kept rooting around Katy’s bag until she found something, and triumphantly held out a granola bar. Katy and I exchanged glances. When did it become illegal to bring granola bars to the airport? The guard turned the bar over, inspected the unbroken wrapping, brought it close to her nose, gave it few more official sniffs, and put it back in the bag with a look of disappointment.

  “Hold your arms out.”

  “Sorry?” Katy said, with a look of alarm on her face.

  “Up.”

  Katy got up shakily and stood on her jacket, which she’d been using as a pillow until now.

  “Arms out.”

  I looked on aghast, as the guard patted Katy down. I glanced around us in panic. Where’s the money packet? I could have sworn Katy had it on her when we came in.

  “You’re clean,” the guard said. Katy sat back down on her jacket with a thump and a glazed look on her face. I realized then the money bag was under the jacket. For some reason, the guard hadn’t noticed it.

  “Your turn, missy,” the guard said, pointing at me. Before she could scatter my contents on the floor, I opened my bag myself, my mind a whirlwind. How do I get her to help us get to our gate? Can we catch our flight on time? The guard went through my things with the same hound-dog efficiency, except with me she couldn’t find even a bubble gum wrapper. I spread my arms and legs apart and stood perfectly still for her to pat me down.

  “Okay, you’re clean.” The guard hooked her fingers in her belt and surveyed us while we squatted on the ground, pushing our things back into our bags and zipping them shut.

  “Girls,” the guard said, clearing her throat and speaking in a softer tone, “airports have waiting areas for a reason. It’s so passengers such as yourselves can sit and wait. Bathrooms are not appropriate places for sleeping. And if you’re not well, there’s a twenty-four hour clinic you can go to and see a nurse.”

  “Officer,” I said, not sure what to call her, but “officer” sounded good. I gave a quick glance at Katy and crossed my fingers. “Our flight leaves in fifteen minutes, but we couldn’t get to the gate earlier ’cause she was too sick. Can you help us?”

  The guard rocked on the balls of her feet and squinted at Katy.

  “Oooh.” Katy clutched her tummy and screwed up her face into a pained look. “The cramps again.”

  I sighed in relief, glad she was finally following my lead.

  The guard frowned at her.

  “It’s this horrible pain, like a knife turning in my stomach.” Katy put a hand on the wall to steady herself. “Worst pain I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

  I prayed she wouldn’t overact.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be flying, if you’re that sick,” the guard said, concerned now. “Maybe I need to get you to the clinic.”

  “She’s feeling better now,” I said quickly. “We just need to get to the plane and get her to her seat so she can sleep. Would you mind giving us a ride in your golf cart?”

  “My what?”

  “Your shuttle?” I swallowed.

  She hesitated a few seconds. “Happy to give you a ride,” she said, turning around in sharp military fashion. “Come on, girls. Get your bags. Hop to it. A bathroom’s no place to hang out when you
’ve got your period.”

  She marched out of the bathroom, jangling her key chain loud enough to wake the dead. Katy and I picked up our bags and quickly followed her outside. I hesitated at the door. Outside, Ashok and Dick were waiting, watching us. They glared when we came out, but they couldn’t make a move in front of the two guards. We were safe, at least for the moment.

  “Hop on board,” the guard said, taking the wheel of her cart. I took Katy’s bag and mine and jumped into the backseat. Katy, still clutching her tummy, climbed laboriously into the front. The guard started the engine and we lurched forward. I took a quick look behind me. Dick and Ashok were standing near the bathroom door, mouths agape. I couldn’t help but wave. They didn’t wave back.

  We weaved in and out of the corridors, honking at the occasional airport worker on their night shift. The guard was a determined driver and drove like she was in the home stretch of a NASCAR race, while Katy and I hung on to the handlebars for our lives. Katy didn’t need to pretend she was sick anymore; her face had gone white. We turned one corner so quickly I was sure we were on two wheels. That was when we bumped into two familiar men: Franky and Jose, carrying coffee cups.

  “Oh my god!” Katy screeched when she saw them.

  “Watch where you’re going!” the guard yelled.

  The two men jumped out of the way and we charged on. Clutching the bar to keep my balance, I glanced behind me to see them gaping at us, their coffee splattered on the floor. I sank into my seat feeling exhilarated.

  No. I felt liberated.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  “This is the final boarding call for Air India Flight Eight-Six-Three to London.”

  “That’s us!” I yelled.

  We were finally at our gate, and we’d been lucky. Very lucky.

  The security guard had taken us under her wing and escorted us all the way to the flight desk, bossing her way through security. The skeleton staff at the security gate hardly glanced at our papers or bags and let us through quickly. I went through security check with my heart in my mouth, while Katy played up her sickness to anyone who’d look at her. If anyone had seen what she had in her bag, or had scratched the surface of my passport, we’d have both been toast. Somehow, the money packet in Katy’s bag had not raised any eyebrows, even as it slid through the X-ray machine.

  The security guard handed us to the check-in desk and said goodbye with a friendly, “You girls take care now.”

  We trundled into the plane with a couple other latecomers and found our seats.

  “Oh, god,” Katy groaned as soon as we sat down. “I really need to pee.”

  “We were stuck in a washroom all night and you didn’t go?” I asked with half a smile.

  She gave me a dark look.

  “You’ll have to get used to different toilets in India,” I said with a grin, remembering the open pit holes at Grandma’s apartment complex. “Indian toilets are not places you wanna get stuck for seven hours.”

  “Your cousin will find us a decent place to stay, won’t she?” Katy looked hopeful.

  “Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff. Cabin crew, please take your seats.”

  I put on the seat belt. “Look on the bright side, I said. “We’re leaving a horrible situation, I get to see Preeti again, and you get to visit India.”

  “Then what?” Katy asked. “What are we going to do there? Where are we going to stay? Thank god, we’ve got enough to—”

  “We’re not touching that stuff unless it’s an absolute emergency,” I said, giving her a warning look.

  “How are we going to eat, then? Where are we going to sleep?”

  “You know what we’re going to do?”

  “What brilliant idea do you have now?”

  “We’re going to bake cakes in Goa.”

  Thank you for reading this story!

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  A young girl. A foreign land. An assassination

  Born of parents from two different countries and living in a third, all Asha wants is to belong. But she’s always the stranger, always the outsider. The day she commits a crime to gain trust and friendship, her whole world collapses. Will this be the end of her life? Or an unthinkable beginning of a new one?

  This is a short story of innocence, audacity, and death. This is the beginning of the adventures of the Red-Heeled Rebels, a band of gutsy, sassy women who fight for their rights and travel the world to find their freedoms.

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  The Red-Heeled Rebels Novel Series

  The Red-Heeled Rebels is a gripping, global suspense series with iron-willed heroines who fight villains and traditions that keep them down. If you like exotic locales, fast action with complex twists, and globe-trotting female leads, you’ll love these books.

  What readers are saying:

  “A wonderful story! I didn’t want to leave the characters.”

  “A real page turner and international thriller. Reminds me of why I’ve always loved to read. Because I can visit worlds and places I wouldn’t ordinarily get to see.”

  “If you love adventure, strong female leads and cultural insights, this is the perfect book for you.”

  “A heart stopping adventure. I just couldn’t put the book down till I finished reading it.”

  “This is soul writing that needs to be read.”

  For more, go to www.RedHeeledRebels.com

  BOOK ONE: Disowned

  A lost orphan. A forced marriage. A fugitive on the run.

  She’s a stranger in a strange land. After losing her parents to a fiery crash in Tanzania, Asha’s shipped off to a seaside village in Goa, India to join an extended family she didn’t even know existed. She believes she’s finally found a home, but very soon has to flee a forced marriage to the vilest man in town. But does Asha know she’s only walking into a trap?

  BOOK TWO: Abducted

  A kidnapping. A forbidden place. An escape across borders.

  Asha and her best friend, Katy, arrive at London’s Heathrow Airport on their long trek from Toronto to India, when Katy is kidnapped in broad daylight. Hell-bent on finding her, Asha dashes across the city and follows a mysterious black-robed woman to a brothel, embarking on a journey that will take her from London to Luxembourg. Who kidnapped Katy and will she find her alive?

  BOOK THREE: Exiled

  A lost friend. A death sentence. A fight for freedom.

  Asha arrives in Goa, India together with her newfound team, the Red-Heeled Rebels. They’ve escaped human traffickers and slave traders only to make an alarming discovery. Two people from Asha’s past are alive but in grave danger, with a death sentence hanging over one of them. What will Asha have to sacrifice to save them?

  Truth is Harsher than Fiction

  130 million girls around the world are missing from school.

  Two-thirds of the 774 million illiterate people in the world are female.

  One in seven girls in developing countries is married before the age of 15 (excluding China).

  In 2012, 70 million women 20-24 around the world had been married before the age of 18.

  The second most common cause of death for girls between the ages of 15-19 is complications from pregnancy and childbirth.

  Girls between the ages of 10-14 are five times more likely to die in pregnancy or childbirth than women aged 20-24.

  75% of HIV-infected youth between the ages of 15-24 are girls.

  50% of all sexual assaults worldwide are against girls 15 or younger.

  *Statistics from United Nations Foundation Inc Girl Up - www.girlup.org/impact/why-girls

  “The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them wi
thout doing anything.” - Albert Einstein

  As I researched, planned, drafted and edited these novels, I spoke with women and men from around the world, some of whom I’d never met before. They shared with me their stories, they read mine, and most importantly, we discussed the difficult topics in these books frankly and without prejudice. I gained many insights through our chats, but one main lesson I took away was there are good people everywhere.

  These are people who neither tolerate nor apologize for harmful traditions. These are people who yearn to change age-old customs that subjugate our daughters and alienate our sons. These are people who desire to create a better world for all of us, for now, for the future. I was surprised to see how common our world views are, regardless of any differences in gender, sexual orientation, culture, religion, political views, or nationality.

  I feel we all have more in common than not. And this gives me hope, hope for a wiser, kinder, open, and more connected global community that uplifts us all.

  “Cultural acceptance does not mean accepting the unacceptable.” - Jasvinder Sanghera, British Human Rights Activist.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the girls in the world wherever you are, whether you live in the slums of Asia, the villages of Africa, the favelas of South America, or the inner cities of America. I thought of you every day as I wrote this book. Every day, I wondered how many of you are standing up for your rights to learn, to play, to live a life of your own design, filled with happiness. I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, you matter to this world, more than you realize.