“At least you’re talking about it with me,” I say. “That’s a start. How can I help?”
“What’s your best matchmaking advice?”
“Go work on the lab report at his house,” I say. I feel a tiny pang of envy as I say this, and now I understand exactly how he was feeling the night I went to ’Burban with Aiden. Noah always comes to my house to study, but if Connor makes him happy, I’ll learn to share. “Worst case, you’ll find out he’s not as great as you think.”
“Oh, he is.…” Noah sighs. “Your turn. What’s the deal with Suraj?”
“There is no deal. Suraj and Jassi? Maybe. Not Suraj and me.”
“Suraj and Jassi? So over. She told me this morning.”
My eyes go saucer wide. “Really?!”
I could say so much more, but I’m flooded with feels and afraid to believe it.
“Yeah. They went out for coffee the other day and had a good time. But Suraj told her he has feelings for someone else and asked if they could just be friends. Turns out Jassi’s into someone else, too. Anyway, Suraj went off to Boston for some family thing all weekend, so I haven’t heard anything from him. I can’t believe you don’t know this already, Simi!”
“How would I?” I demand, still not convinced. “When he said he has feelings for someone else, do you think he could have been talking about someone in Boston?”
“Um, no. I think he was talking about you. Promise me that the next time you see him, you’ll tell him how you feel.”
“Then you have to promise you won’t bail on doing the lab report with Connor. Deal?”
“Deal.”
We shake hands over The Shagun Matchmaking Guide. Then I hold it out before me and clear my throat. “Matchmaker’s log: Two months of matchmaking at Mayfield High, in person and online. There have been successes and failures. Breakups and makeups. Drama and despair. What are our proudest moments?”
“Ethan and Teá,” Noah provides.
“Definitely. Some might say Ethan and Amanda are perfect for each other… but not according to our app!”
Noah fake gags. “All those complaint emails she wrote… Simi and Noah I am perfect for Ethan Pérez. We’ve dated before and we’re meant to be. Whhyyy haven’t we been matched yet? Maybe because we don’t match people; our computer algorithm does. It’s not personal.” He gives a little shiver, like something just spooked him. “Somehow I don’t think she’s done with us.”
“I mean, what more could she possibly do?” I shudder at the thought.
“I don’t know. But this isn’t over.” He sounds so ominous, I have to laugh. And shake off the thought.
I go back to my faux announcement. “Ethan and Teá, Marcus and Kiran, Rohan and Priya, and Rebecca and Hasina are a few of our finest examples, but at least three dozen pairs are now happy together thanks to our hard work.”
A screeching siren cuts through the otherwise silent library.
“Crap,” Noah says. “Fire alarm.”
I check my watch. “I heard we’re having a drill today. We better get out of here.”
My backpack is crammed full of books—I don’t dare leave valuables in my locker anymore—and I don’t have time to fit the Shagun guide in because the librarian is waving people toward the exit. Quickly, I slide the guide between two encyclopedias, where it’ll be safe until I can come back for it after the fire drill is done. It looks like it could snow any minute, and I can’t let the weather damage the Shagun guide—it’s too precious.
“Let’s go,” I say to Noah, hustling out the door.
I’m freezing out in the field. I shuffle from foot to foot and rub my arms vigorously, but it’s not helping.
Noah’s freezing right beside me.
“Stupid fire drill,” I grumble.
And then I spot Suraj, grinning at me. At us. Me and Noah.
“Hey, look. Suraj’s back,” Noah says. “New England suits him, apparently. He looks like a young Guru Gobind Singh without the beard. Right out of a vintage comic. How about that promise, huh? Now’s a good time to talk to him.”
“Stop it!”
Suraj is walking toward us.
“His jacket looks super warm,” Noah says out of the side of his mouth.
I shoot Noah a glare as Suraj jogs the last few feet to us, pulling his jacket off as he goes.
“Here,” he says, holding it out. “You need this more than I do.”
It’s heavy and still warm from his body heat when it lands around my shoulders. I clutch it to me gratefully, ignoring Noah’s gleeful grin.
“I’ve got to see Ms. Ireland about… a thing,” Noah says. “See you guys around.”
Even though I’m not cold anymore, the pinpricks on my skin haven’t gone away. “Thanks for loaning me your jacket, Suraj.”
“No problem.” He smiles down at me, then takes one of my hands and rubs it between his. “You’re really cold.”
“I’m warmer now,” I say, giving him my other hand, too. My heart gallops like I’m running sprints, though I’m standing perfectly still. All the people on the field seem very far away.
“So how’ve you been?”
“Fine, you?”
“I’m fine. But I have to tell you…”
“What?”
“Your matchmaking app isn’t always right.”
“You and Jassi?”
He nods and steps closer.
“You had a strong match,” I tell him. “Eighty-seven percent.”
“That’s very exact.”
I feel the color rising into my cheeks. Why didn’t I keep the percentage to myself?
“Jassi and I do have a lot in common, I can see that, but there’s something missing. Something indefinable. And things aren’t going to work without it.”
“I get that,” I say softly. After all, Aiden and I were a strong match, too, and we definitely don’t have a future.
A snowflake floats down and lands on Suraj’s hair. Suddenly, there are soft white flakes falling all around us. I hold out my hand to catch one, and a couple land on my palm.
Suraj shakes his head. “Amateur. You have to catch them on your tongue.”
I stick my tongue out at him instead.
He laughs, then looks at the snowflake melting on my hand. “No mehendi?”
“No, I’m saving it for Jolly and Preet’s engagement party.”
“Hey, I’ve got one,” he says. He holds a finger over his upper lip. It has an orange mustache squiggled on it, like something a very small kid would make. “My ten-year-old cousin did it for me in Boston.”
“That’s hilarious. It makes you look very…”
“Ridiculous?” he says.
“Royal!” I say. I can’t help laughing a little. What’s an Indian prince without his mustache?
“Oh-kay,” Suraj says, looking mystified. “If you say so.”
He shivers, bouncing on his toes a little. Impulsively, I wrap my arms around him—it’s the least I can do, since he was gentlemanly enough to share his jacket. He wraps his around me.
And suddenly, every part of me is warm. Especially my cheeks. But I can’t stop looking at him. And he can’t take his eyes off me either.
“Better?”
“Better.” His voice sounds deeper. There’s a laugh at the end of it that vibrates through me because his chest is pressed up close to mine. We stand together, keeping each other warm, and it’s perfect.
When we get the all clear to go back into the building, I pull reluctantly away. “You warm enough now?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Simi.”
“So,” I say as we walk toward school. “Was Jassi bummed that your match didn’t work out?”
“Not even a little bit. She’s had a crush on someone for ages.”
“No way!”
“Yep. And anyway, Jassi’s cool and everything, but I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about us. You and me. I think it’s way past time to ask…”
“Yes?” I say, tipping my
chin to look at him through the snowflakes.
“Will you go out with me, Simran Sangha?”
I smile. “Yes.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Even though your app didn’t put us together?”
I don’t tell him that I deleted my quiz answers, that I nearly quit the whole matchmaking thing altogether. It doesn’t matter if the app matches us—I know we belong together.
“You know that indefinable thing you mentioned earlier?” I say. “I think we have that going for us.”
chapter twenty-eight
The next morning in first period, the SMART board blinks on, beaming Amanda Taylor’s annoying face into the classroom for morning announcements.
Someone throws a crumpled paper ball at the screen. I giggle.
“Listen up, Mayfield High,” Amanda snaps. “Instead of morning announcements, today we have an investigative scoop to share.” She stops for a dramatic pause, then presses on. “Ever since the start of term, the school’s been buzzing about a certain app that’s set friend against friend and caused endless disruption to schoolwork and activities.”
What in the world?
“The students behind the app have proudly taken credit for its creation, and so I think they should be held accountable for the problems it’s caused. Instead of saying more, we’ll let you watch. Roll the tape, Cami.”
The screen cuts to a video clip of me and Noah in the brightly lit library, sitting at our favorite table. My voice comes through loud and clear, sounding foolishly happy.
“Matchmaker’s log: Two months of matchmaking at Mayfield High, in person and online. There have been successes and failures. Breakups and makeups. Drama and despair. Some might say Ethan and Amanda are perfect for each other… but not according to our app!”
The shot cuts to Noah. He’s miming the complaint letters Amanda sent via the app. He sounds really mean. “Simi and Noah, I am perfect for Ethan Pérez. We’ve dated before and we’re meant to be. Whhyyy haven’t we been matched yet? Wait—because Amanda is… absolutely crazy.”
What? That’s not how the conversation went! Noah and I are onscreen, but our words are all twisted. My head is spinning.
The screen cuts back to Amanda’s face, which is pained. “You heard them, boasting about manipulating the app to stop people from connecting. If that’s not bullying, what is? As president of the sophomore class, I urge the administration of this school to make an example of these students who have toyed with the emotions of their fellow students and undermined the Code of Conduct.”
Marcus, who’s coanchoring, says, “The Code of Conduct? Amanda—”
She raises a sheet of paper and reads: “Mayfield High will be a safe and respectful environment conducive to learning. Acts of aggression, to include patterns of controlling or threatening behavior as well as sexual, physical, or emotional harassment, whether in person or digital, are unacceptable and will be dealt with according to the school’s disciplinary plan.” She lowers the paper and gives the camera a smug look. “That’s taken directly from the Code of Conduct—of which Navdeep, Simi, and Noah are in direct violation.”
Marcus puts a hand on her shoulder. “Amanda, I think—”
But she cuts him off again. “Because the Matched! creators take so much pleasure in orchestrating romantic connections, they won’t mind if I help out one of their own. Watch.”
The feed cuts back to Noah and me in the library.
“I like Connor.”
Noah’s voice amplified over the PA system sends a shock through me.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
“Like, like Connor. I don’t need to figure that out. I know already. He’s smart and sweet and so good-looking. There, I said it! But I’m not sure he sees me that way. It’s hard, crushing on someone when you’re not sure if they’re into you, you know? Is he into guys? Is he into me?”
The screen clicks off abruptly, thanks to Ms. Holland and a sudden jab of her finger. The class sits in stunned silence with their jaws practically on the floor, staring at me.
Then I hear a snicker from the back of the room—some idiot who thinks it’s funny to humiliate people.
I jump up and gather my stuff, my heart thudding against my ribs in a classic fight-or-flight adrenaline rush.
“Simi?” Ms. Holland says.
“I’m sorry. I need to go—I need to find Noah.”
She holds the door open. “Go right ahead.”
I dash through the door into the quiet hallway. Up ahead, I catch sight of Noah rushing toward the front of the school, like there’s a hunting party hot on his heels.
I chase him, catching up in time to see him bolt through the door to the nurse’s office, fling himself into a chair, and burst into tears. I go in after him, drop my backpack to the floor, and hug him. Nurse Smith, who’s super nice, puts a warm blanket around his shoulders and I hold him while he cries.
“How could she, Simi? I could barely bring myself to tell you I like Connor, and she’s announced it to the whole school!”
“She’s evil,” I say. “She wants to hurt you. Hurt us. That’s why.”
“She succeeded.”
I want to tell him we can’t let her win. But right now, it feels like she has won.
“I want to go home,” Noah says. His face is streaked with tears.
“I’ve called your mother,” Nurse Smith says. “She’s on her way.”
He nods and leans on my shoulder.
I sit with him, trying to come up with a way to make this better, but my brain is numb. It’s not long before we hear quick footsteps in the hallway, and a moment later, Noah’s mom walks into the room.
She crouches down in front of us. “Noah! Are you okay?”
His face crumples. “I’m fine. Just completely mortified.”
She looks at me. “Thank you for sitting with him, Simi. I’m going to take him home for the rest of the day. Come on, Noah.”
They get up, grab his things, and leave. I’m left alone, watching the door swing back and forth after them.
I have a feeling the worst isn’t over.
“Simran?” Nurse Smith says gently. “Principal Pinter asked to see you in her office. Your mom’s on her way. Follow me, please.”
I get up on wobbly legs. Random thoughts dart through my head. Like how glad I am that Navdeep’s early applications are in. And thank God he’s on a robotics team trip and wasn’t here to witness Amanda’s ridiculous accusations and her humiliation of Noah. My brother may have walked into the Mayfield High TV studio and shaken Amanda until her hair extensions fell out.
That’s a strangely satisfying image, actually.
I think I’d like to shake Amanda till her hair extensions fall out, too. But first I have to face Pinter. And Mom.
“Simran,” Principal Pinter says. “Come on in.”
She shuts the door behind me and points to a chair. Mr. Wall is here, too, sitting across the desk from Pinter.
“Please sit down, Simran,” she says.
I sit and clasp my hands nervously together.
“Mr. Wall and I were very impressed with the app walk-through we had yesterday. But there have been allegations that the app was used to manipulate and bully students,” she says. “Is that true?”
“Not at all,” I say.
“Unfortunately, it’s your word against Amanda’s,” Ms. Pinter says.
“If you don’t mind, Principal Pinter, I think I should wait for my mom before I say anything else. I mean, that’s what they do on the cop dramas.”
Principal Pinter raises an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. “I understand.”
I sit, facing off against her and Mr. Wall. It’ll be a relief to see Mom.
Five long minutes pass before there’s a knock on the door. The secretary opens it and pokes her head in. “Mrs. Sangha is here, Principal Pinter.”
She opens the door wider and Mom walks through. She looks like how I feel: worried, panicked, anxious.
“I’m
sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs. Sangha,” Ms. Pinter says. “But I fear this matter is serious enough to require your presence.”
“Is Simran okay?” Mom says. Her eyes search my face. Whatever she sees doesn’t make the worried crease in her forehead relax. “What is this about?”
“I’ll start from the beginning,” Ms. Pinter says. “Please, have a seat.”
Mom sits down in the armchair next to mine and looks questioningly at Pinter.
“So about a month after term started,” Pinter explains, “administrators heard rumors of a dating app that many students were using. We thought it was harmless fun but set up a review to be sure it wouldn’t become a problem.”
“What does this have to do with Simran?” Mom asks.
“Simran, Navdeep, and their friend Noah developed the app,” Ms. Pinter says.
If my mom is shocked, her face doesn’t betray it. “Is that true, Simi?” she asks calmly.
I nod.
“Goodness, when did you all find the time to do it?” She shakes her head. “Navdeep has so much going on!”
“He was able to walk Mr. Wall and me through the app, along with Simran and Noah, and to be honest, it seemed innocent enough. Complex and innovative, in truth. We asked the creators not to let anyone access the app during school hours and left it at that.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well, this morning another student played some clips during morning announcements. Please watch.”
Ms. Pinter hits play on the remote she’s holding, and that cringey clip of me hamming it up for Noah plays on the monitor on the wall of her office. Mom frowns as she watches.
When it’s over, she turns to me. “Simi, I’m surprised. This isn’t like you. Or Noah.”
“I know,” I say. “The clip was edited. We took inspiration from The Shagun Matchmaking Guide when we worked on the app. We didn’t intentionally put people together, or keep people apart.”
A Match Made in Mehendi Page 18
