A Match Made in Mehendi
Page 22
My hand shakes as I click on the selection box next to Suraj’s name and his MI, a golden owl.
Run Match?
I close my eyes and click Yes.
The little wheel goes round and round as I tell myself it’ll be okay if we’re a crappy match. There can be only so much an app can predict. It’s only as smart as the people who made it, after all. Mom calls the app a tool, not a soothsayer. And anyway, Suraj and I have that whole indefinable thing going for us.
Match complete. View results?
Wow—so quick.
I hold one hand over my eyes as I click to see the report. Peeling two fingers apart like I’m watching a horror movie, I take a cautious peek at the screen.
Classification: strong; 97.8 percent match.
Whoa.
We’ve set a new match record—Ethan and Teá were 96.5 percent.
I jump up, do a quick happy dance, and then call downstairs, “Scanning for individual matches works fine, Mom.”
“Okay,” she yells. “Thank you!”
Not a second later, Navdeep appears in my doorway. He stands there, arms folded, a quizzical expression on his face. He’s regarding what’s on the screen of Mom’s laptop.
“Oy, you must’ve cheated on that quiz,” he says. “Ninety-seven-point-eight? Yeah, you totally cheated.”
“Did not!” I say. “And guess what? The next match I’m going to run is you and Jassi.”
“What? Simi, don’t you dare!”
“Watch me!”
I throw a pillow at him, then slam the door before he can step through.
He bangs on it, but I’ve locked it.
“Simi? Simi!” And then I hear his footsteps retreating.
Ha, he gave up far too quickly for that outrage to be real. Nanima was spot-on.
I pick Sweetie up for a quick twirl around my room. I can’t wait to see Suraj tonight.
Stretching my arms out wide, I smile at my hands. The twin sunflowers on my palms shine back at me. The mehendi has darkened over the last couple of days to a rich wine red.
Outside the sky is blue, cloudless. Warm yellow rays slant in through my lilac drapes and light up Sweetie’s fur.
It’s going to be a sunny day.
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acknowledgments
Many thanks to the following for making this book possible!
Mum and Mausi, for their stories and their chatrachaya, which, to my lasting sorrow, I lost midway through the writing of this book. This book is dedicated to them.
Papa, for the lovely story about Mum and the angeethi, which ended up in the book as Nani and Nanoo’s first meeting.
My three sisters, Minni, Ruhi, and Anuja—I wouldn’t be who I am without you.
My writing family, including my current and former critique groups, the quiet magic of the Writers’ Loft and the fellowship of Lofters, SCBWI New England, and the Boston Authors Club.
Wellesley Books, for giving me something to do when there was nothing to do but wait (and price)!
Sona Charaipotra, Dhonielle Clayton, and CAKE Literary for the amazing concept, for their patience when personal loss slowed my pace, and for their long and careful midwifing of this project.
Victoria Marini, for selling it in short order.
Nikki Garcia, for believing in this story and for her insightful edits. And thank you to the entire team at Little, Brown for their hard work behind the scenes: Natali Cavanagh, Stefanie Hoffman, Sasha Illingworth, Savannah Kennelly, Katharine McAnarney, Annie McDonnell, and Valerie Wong.
Finally, my husband, Chandra, and my kids, Ravi and Anika, for their patience, love, and support, and Yogi, Bikky, and Zara for being the best companions a writer could have.
Just like raising a child, a book takes a village. I am thankful for every one of you!
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