Relief and anger arc through me. “Nice to know you have such a high opinion of me,” I snap.
“Well, I guess that makes us even.”
For a moment we just eye each other and say nothing, but that queasy feeling in my stomach is subsiding.
Jeff says, awkwardly, “I wanted to tell you yesterday. What Pete said, not everyone feels like that. I mean, I don’t.” He flushes. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandfather and everything, but—”
“I know,” I say impatiently.
“But it’s not about that, is it?” His eyes are pleading. “I mean, it can’t be. Not here. Not now.”
The gush of release is so delicious, I have to roll my eyes, and say sarcastically, “What the hell d’you think I’ve been trying to tell you?”
Slowly, Jeff’s face breaks into a crooked grin. He shakes his head and mouths, “Princess.”
I whack his shoulder, and he laughs.
Just then the bell goes.
“Come on.” Jeff tugs me towards the door. Okay, so he’s holding my hand way too long, but I grip his anyway, even though my hand is all sweaty, or maybe it’s his.
We sit together at the very back of the class.
“So,” whispers Jeff, “what’re you doing this weekend?”
“Nothing much.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “What did you have in mind?”
He grins. “Want to show me around some more?”
“Sure. And afterwards, you can come home with me and practice your Scottish accent.”
Ms. Gelder clears her throat and looks warningly at us.
I sit up, pretend to be absorbed in what she’s saying.
After a while, Jeff passes me a note. I open it cautiously, on my lap. I choke. In Jeff’s neat, sloping writing: I saw Hamish Macbeth on TV last night and brushed up my Scottish accent.
I scribble down my reply and casually pass it to Jeff. Yer a fiiine upstanding haggis. He snorts and Ms. Gelder says, “Yes, Jeff, anything you want to share?” I have a hard time stifling my laughter.
After class, Jeff and I head for the lockers together. We laugh and kid around. Okay, so nothing’s that hugely funny, but it’s so great to be with Jeff. And it’s the same old crappy school, with the dented lockers, the smell of sweaty socks and sneakers, but it feels good, so good.
I say, wickedly, “Hey, when you come over this weekend, you can try and pick up an Indian accent. That should really impress my grandmother.”
I burst out laughing as Jeff’s eyes flicker with alarm.
We pass Lynne, who’s fumbling at her locker. I smile widely at her and say hi. She looks surprised, mumbles hi, then drops her eyes.
“What was that about?” asks Jeff.
“I’ll tell you some other time.”
Hey, I refuse to let Lynne get to me.
Jeff stands around by my locker, and Erin comes up and joins in, as though the three of us have always hung out together. Behind his back, she wiggles her eyebrows at me and grins knowingly before rushing off to band. Jeff and I are practically the last ones out of school.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” He squeezes my hand.
The look in his eyes turns my insides to jelly.
I walk on air all the way home.
Mom’s car is in the driveway, but not Dad’s.
I come down with a thud.
How did they get along today, Naniji and Mom? I mean, Mom’s no slouch in the fierce department, either.
I start to laugh. Oh God. Me, from both of them. Double the fierce.
I open the door.
There’s a subdued thud coming from the family room. Nina and her horde are really into wannabe alternative bands that everyone else got over last year.
“Tara-My-Stara,” calls Mom eagerly. “We’re in the kitchen.”
Okay. No blood so far.
Mom and Naniji are drinking tea at the table, and Maya’s sipping lemonade from a china cup.
“Hello, love,” says Mom.
“Hi, Mom; hi, Naniji.”
I look anxiously at Naniji.
She smiles at me, her eyes warm. “Hello, Tara, how was school?”
My shoulders unknot. I guess I was a little afraid she’d be embarrassed or reserved after yesterday. “Fine.”
I drop a kiss on Maya’s cheek and say, “And how was your day, Naniji? What did you do?”
Naniji starts to say something, and so does Mom, and then they both stop.
“After you, Mummyji,” says Mom, smoothly.
Naniji says, “Your mummyji came home early, and we went to the Byward Market. It was most beautiful.”
Oh God, it’s her determined-to-be-pleased voice again.
“Yes,” trills Mom, “it was a lovely day, unexpectedly warm for this time of year. We were almost tempted to sit outside with our cappuccinos.”
Mom and Naniji over cappuccino! The mind boggles.
They smile earnestly at each other—but somehow it’s different from before. They’re still awkward, but they’re less hostile. I feel a surge of love for them. They’ll never really like each other, but they’re trying, how they’re trying.
Impulsively, I reach out and squeeze their hands, Mom on my right, Naniji on my left.
Naniji smiles gratefully, then winces as Nina’s music suddenly cranks up.
Maya runs into the family room, shouting, “Dancing, yaaayyy!”
Mom looks quickly at Naniji, then roars, “Hey, Nina, turn that down.”
I grunt, “I’ll do it.”
I go into the family room, and there are Nina and her friends, bopping away, with Maya at the edge trying to copy their every move.
“Tara, do you have to?” snaps Nina as I turn the music way down.
“Yes, Mom told me. Does it have to be so blaring?”
Nina clicks her tongue and huffs, “Come on, guys, let’s go to my room.”
She and her friends march upstairs with Maya trailing behind.
I roll my eyes and grin.
The phone’s ringing, but before I can get to it, Mom answers.
“Tara, for you,” she says, eyebrow slightly arched. “Jeff.”
I flush slightly, grab the cordless phone, and head for my room.
I take the stairs two at a time.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Copyright
Henry Holt and Company, LLC, Publishers since 1866
115 West 18th Street, New York, New York 10011
Henry Holt is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Copyright © 2001 by Rachna Gilmore
All rights reserved.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
ISBN 0-8050-6475-3/First Edition—2001
eISBN 9781627798075
First eBook edition: July 2015
A Group of One Page 14
