by Natasha Deen
I can’t believe Noah would be mean, but he’s with McKenzie, and she can be an idiot. I’m so caught up in my spy games, I barely register the A-minus on my chemistry exam. For sure, I’ll get it from Dad, but that’s the least of my concerns. I stuff the paper in my bag and go back to figuring out Noah and McKenzie’s motivations.
I’m shocked as all get-out when the end of the day comes, and I find Noah at my locker, waiting with McKenzie and Emily. We head to the mall, and after a half hour of random wandering, I decide whatever villainous deed they may have planned for us won’t happen today.
I’m happy to be around them, but I hate it, too. I had a plan of the stores I’d approach. Nothing super high end or expensive. Those stores have a certain look to their employees, and it’s a look I don’t have.
Their staff have the right clothes, sleek hair, polished nails, and immaculate makeup. I have… none of those things. Forget about the clothes. And my hair is ethnic. It’s in a perpetual state of frizz and dry, and Mom refuses to buy me the right kind of product. I try, but they’re expensive. One bottle and I’m bankrupt for a month. Plus, I’m too intimidated to walk into a store selling jeans for a hundred dollars and ask for a job, when my jeans cost twenty-five dollars. It’s like the pauper wanting to sit in the king’s seat.
But for McKenzie, Emily, and Noah, these stores aren’t foreign lands. They’re a second home, familiar as an old couch. I’m left to follow and hand in my résumé and pretend as though I belong. And the weird thing is that when I’m with them, it’s kind of like I do belong. They give me a strange legitimacy, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
Part of me likes the feeling of belonging a little too much. It makes me feel heavy and light, all at the same time, and I bet that’s what it feels like when you’re drunk on something good. Most of me is angry that I can’t be of value by myself. I’m just made visible because I’m with the others.
We get through half the stores in the mall before I run out of résumés. “We should celebrate a job well done,” says McKenzie. “Let’s grab some food. Oh, how about the fries place? The one that has all those crazy toppings.”
And the crazy prices. A small order of fries from that place is twelve bucks. Add in a drink and—
“Oh, and cake from the bakery beside it,” adds Emily.
—and there goes my money. I’m sweating as we head to the food court. I’ve never blown all my allowance at once, especially not on food. When all you get is thirty dollars, you make it last. That’s why I never buy the expensive hair stuff, and I saved for two months to buy my cheap-ass jeans.
“Oh, wait.” McKenzie pivots my way. “Can you eat that?”
“Fries? Yeah.”
“But it’ll have other stuff, like beef and—”
It takes everything in me not to shout at her. “I told you, I’m not Hindi. I can eat beef.”
“But the meat won’t be Hawaiian.”
I’m dumbfounded. “What?”
“No,” she says, “not Hawaiian, but it sounds like Hawaiian.”
“Havarti?” suggests Noah.
“No, no.” McKenzie shifts from one foot to the other, then back again. “It’s like a religious thing.”
“Hanukkah?” Emily offers.
McKenzie shakes her head. Her foot shuffling’s increased, so now she looks like she’s trying not to pee herself. “You know, meat religion.”
I’m no longer dumfounded, but McKenzie is still dumb. “You mean halal.”
She snaps her fingers. “Yeah, that’s it! None of this stuff is hallelujah—hallamula—” She’s flustered, her face flushes, and she opens her mouth to try again.
I raise my hand for her to stop. Not because I don’t enjoy hearing her make an idiot of herself, but I’m afraid my muscles will act instinctually at the repetitious hacking of a religious tenet and I’ll punch her. “I’m not Muslim; that’s my aunt. I don’t need the meat to be halal.”
The food court is almost empty, so none of us needs to save a seat. As we wait, they talk about jazz band, but I’m not paying attention. I’m too busy trying to figure out a way to avoid spending all my money on food. When it’s our turn, I tell them to go ahead because I’m still deciding. Emily wants butter chicken fries, Noah takes Philly cheese, and McKenzie has the same thing as Emily. When it’s only me left to order, I tell the cashier all I want is a small pop.
“But you have to eat,” says McKenzie.
Don’t I know it. There are textbooks on the psychology and sociology of sharing a meal together and how it bonds people. It’s been happening since the dawn of man, and for sure, eating is a big deal with this group. By not ordering I’m separating myself from them, and it’s giving me hives. But this money needs to make it to the end of the month. Only, how can I say that to McKenzie, who always looks like her clothes came off the cover of a fashion magazine, Emily who has servants, and Noah who goes on exotic trips?
“I’m not hungry,” I lie and hope my stomach doesn’t growl.
“But the rest of us are eating,” says McKenzie. “It’ll be weird if you don’t.” Her mouth slackens, then, “Wait. Is this an eating disorder thing? I mean, do we need to have an intervention or something for you?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But you’re kind of anorexic looking.” McKenzie won’t shut up.
The glare I shoot her way makes her blush and drop her gaze.
“I’ve seen her eat.” Emily smiles. “She’s fine.”
“Maybe she purges after,” says McKenzie.
Can I die now? All I wanted to do was save money, and suddenly, I’ve been accused of having an eating disorder. And the worst, most shameful part? That’s actually a little better than admitting I’m poor.
“Come on, you have to eat.” Noah wheels me around to face the cashier. “Whatever she wants,” he says, “it’s on me.” He smiles my way. “See? Now it would be rude to refuse to eat.”
“But I don’t need you to pay—” I dig into my pocket, trying not to hyperventilate at the cost.
“I owe you. I ate your lunch yesterday.”
And with that, Noah saves me, and I fall into official friend-like with him. We’re halfway through eating when Emily chokes down a mouthful of fries and says, “My phone!” She rises, slapping the pockets of her jeans.
“Check your bag,” says Noah.
“It’s not there,” she says. “I always have it in my back pocket.” She slides her hands along her hips and gives us a cheeky smile. “Although it’s kind of easy to lose stuff in these curves.”
“You sure have a lot of those,” says McKenzie.
I glare at her before she can open her dump truck mouth any bigger and say something hurtful.
She turns red and shovels a forkful of butter chicken.
Amazing. She has enough sensitivity to know when she’s being an almost-idiot about someone’s weight, but not enough brains to recognize racial stupidity. At least Emily’s feelings weren’t hurt, and that counts for something.
“I should check the stores,” says Emily. “Maybe it’s still at a cash register or something.”
“I’ll go with you.” McKenzie stands.
For a minute, I’m not sure if she’s doing it by way of apology or if she’s setting me up for sabotage. My heart’s racing and my palms are sweating. Emily’s the only friend I have. But then I take a breath and remind myself, it’s Emily. She’d never bail on me for McKenzie.
The two of them take off, and I’m left with Noah. I shove food in my mouth and try to think of something intelligent to say, something that will make him be my friend, rather than just be nice to me.
“Nira.” The shadow of Farah falls on me at the same time her voice reaches my ears. “What are you doing here?”
I’m offended at her tone, like I don’t belong at the mall with all the other cool kids. But I don’t say what I’m thinking, I go with a casual, “Hey,” and spot the Farahbots watching and commentating at a distance.
/> But she’s not looking at me. She’s all about Noah. “Farah.” She slides in next to him and jerks a thumb in my direction. “Her cousin.”
“Noah,” he replies, and winks at me. “Her friend.”
Holy Christmas, my heart just stopped. Did he call me his friend? If I’m shocked, then the look on Farah’s face is full-on blindsided. I cover my surprise with a mouthful of food. It also disguises the smug smile of satisfaction.
“What were you guys talking about?” She reaches in and takes a fry from Noah’s plate.
I hate her for her confidence. It would never occur to her that people don’t want her fingers in their food.
Noah’s gaze flicks my way, and he must get how much I don’t like or trust her because he says, “Nira’s helping me with math.”
Farah rolls her eyes. “It’s always about homework with her.” When he looks her way, she gives him a cover girl smile and flips her hair back with practiced ease.
If I tried that, I’d need a chiropractor and a heating pad.
“Not always,” Noah says. “There’s also the matter of the band audition.”
I have no idea if he’s defending me or tossing me to the Farah wolf.
Her eyes go wide, and she whips around to stare at me. “You’re going to try out?”
I nod.
“And your parents are okay with that?”
Another nod. I cast a furtive glance at Noah, worried he’s caught the tone in her voice. It’s one thing for me to know how lunatic my parents can be about academics. I’d rather not broadcast it to the entire world.
She’s still staring, but I can’t place the emotion or understand the unspoken conversation.
“I’m looking forward to hearing her play,” continues Noah. “Have you heard her?”
Farah shakes her head.
Noah’s eyebrows go up, and he grins my way. “Wow, Super Spy. Does James Bond take lessons from you?”
My cousin almost chokes on the food in her mouth. “Super Spy? You gave her a nickname?”
It’s taking everything in me not to punch her. Why does she have to ask it like I’m usually kept in the basement away from the elderly, children, and anyone else who might be traumatized by the sight and sound of me?
Her friends run up—the same ones from dinner that night—a gang of brown dolls, all dressed in tight jeans and sparkly jewelry. They hover around Farah, giggling at Noah. They make sure to ignore me. Farah, their queen, rises after a horrendous few minutes of flirting with Noah. She commands them away.
“Man, she’s something,” he says when they’re out of range.
I watch them walk away. Their power is in the sway of their hips, the shift in their shoulders. Farah looks back, watches me for a minute.
I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but I can guess, and I don’t like it. “Yeah.” She breaks the staring contest, and my focus goes back to Noah. “That’s one way to describe her.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask me something. Then he changes his mind, shrugs, and smiles.
I want to ask him what he was going to say, but I’m too afraid I already know. Farah’s gorgeous. He probably wanted her number. I’m sick with relief that he didn’t ask. No matter what he said to her, he and I are barely friends. The idea of losing him to Farah is too heavy a weight.
Emily and McKenzie get back a few minutes later, and Emily’s face is flushed and pink. The sick feeling returns; the ground is shifting; the shadows are looming. The storm is heading my way.
CHAPTER SIX
FRICTION HAS AN ELECTRIC CHARGE
The next few days are a mix of joy and pain. No one from the mall phones me for an interview, but McKenzie, Noah, and Emily get calls. And jobs. I blame my not getting a call on my clothes and hair. They told the store staff lies about me. But there’s nothing I can do. What a punch line. I can’t get a job because I don’t have clothing that can impress, but I can’t afford clothing to impress until I get a job. I’d talk to Grandma about it, but she’s managed to convince Uncle Raj to let her visit for the week, so I’m on my own.
The bright side is that Emily’s still my friend… I think. Noah and McKenzie cling to us like Siamese twins. Maybe Emily’s still saving me a seat at the lunch table because McKenzie is there, but Emily wants me to sit by her. Maybe she doesn’t care who sits at our table as long as I’m there. Still, something seismic is happening, and I don’t know if it’ll mean the end of my time with Emily. I want to know, but I’m too afraid to ask the questions.
Instead, I tell my troubles to Georgia. I spend most of my nights with him, playing scales and practicing everything from ZZ Top’s “Legs” to Bach’s Gavotte No. 2 in F Major. I don’t know what kind of music I’ll be asked to play, and I want to be prepared for anything the teacher asks. Noah told me there’s also a sight-reading part to the audition. Mr. Nam will give me a sheet of music, give me two minutes to look it over, and then I’ll have to play it for him.
Georgia doesn’t mind the extra hours of practice, and I’m enjoying all the time we have together. Since it’s now considered school related, Mom and Dad aren’t giving me the gears about how much time I’m playing. There’s something about having their permission that’s opened space inside of me. It’s like my lungs are three times bigger than they used to be, and there’s a texture of emotion, range, and volume I’ve gained.
It’s so weird, how things can be so great but so uncertain at the same time. The best and worst is my time with Noah. He’s funny and most of all, he’s kind. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever known. If I had fifty fewer IQ points, I would probably fall for him, but I’m smart enough to only reach for what I can grasp.
Still, I feel like I’m living on a fault line. Everything’s great, but I feel like there’s rumbling deep down where I can’t see or feel it, and something’s going to blow. Mom and Dad will change their mind. I won’t get a spot in jazz band. Noah will turn out to be a jerk. McKenzie will take my spot as Emily’s best friend. Emily will realize what a loser I am.
I try to keep the anxiety quiet as I sit by Emily at lunch and talk about my job woes. Noah’s gone—his dad’s taken him on another adventure. McKenzie, mercifully, is at a dentist appointment, which means I get Emily to myself. I didn’t realize how much I missed my alone time with her until I didn’t have it anymore.
“My mom and I were at the mall last weekend. Junta is hiring,” she says.
Junta. I walked in once, looked at the prices, and walked out. But if I worked there, if I belonged, it would be different. I imagine myself under the recessed lights, surrounded by dark wood, clothing stacked into precise lines, the smell of pineapples in the air.
“You get a discount if you work there.”
My brain goes dreamy at the thought of walking down the street in clothes that proclaim my worth. “If I get the job—”
“When,” Emily corrects me. “They’d be nuts not to hire you.”
“—I’ll share my discount.”
She bumps my shoulder. “That’s mighty kind of you—” She waves and I turn in the direction.
McKenzie.
“Didn’t she have a dentist appointment?”
“Just to change out her inlines,” says Emily. “That doesn’t take too long.”
“We should do something, just the two of us. We haven’t had enough of that.”
Emily nods. Then she grins. “She drives you crazy, doesn’t she?”
“McKenzie? Uh—” I have to tread carefully. Emily likes her. Then again, Emily’s the kind of person who sees the best in people, even if she has to turn her head and squint. I want to trust our friendship, but I blurt out, “Don’t you find her… stupid?”
Emily laughs. “Not everyone has brains like you.” She takes a sip of her pop. “McKenzie has a different kind of intelligence, and in her way, she’s smart. She’s funny, too.”
There’s a warning in her words, but I try again to push my toe across the line. “But her jokes always seem t
o make me the punch line.”
“That’s not true.” Emily squeezes my hand. “I think you feel it because you don’t like her. You see the worst in her. Maybe if you looked for the things that you have in common, you’d see she’s cool.”
The only thing we have in common is Emily, and she’s just told me everything I need to know. On the one hand, it makes me love her more. Emily has a knack for bringing out the best in people.
Me, on the other hand, not so much. For sure, McKenzie and I bring out the worst in each other. I only have one option. Keep my mouth shut. Emily likes McKenzie, which means our duo is now a trio. All I can do is hope I learn how to stand McKenzie—or at least learn how to keep my contempt from showing. Who knows, maybe the gods will smile on me and I’ll see in McKenzie what Emily does. I doubt it. The gods have never smiled on me.
McKenzie slides in next to Emily and helps herself to my friend’s food. “Do you feel ready?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“The audition,” Emily translates.
“Oh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I still have a couple of days.”
“Weeks,” says McKenzie. “The auditions got pushed back.” She squints like I’m an interesting specimen she’s found under the microscope. “Didn’t you get the e-mail?”
I shake my head.
She pulls out her phone and calls up the message. I take the cell and read. Auditions have been pushed back. Mr. Nam’s wife had to be induced; the baby’s in the Natal Intensive Care Unit. He’s listed the times he’s available for—“Instrument inspection”?
“Did you take your trumpet to Mr. Nam?” asks McKenzie.
“No, I didn’t get the e-mail.”
Another squint. “You’re sure you didn’t get the message?”
“Why would I lie about it?”
Emily takes McKenzie’s phone and looks. “In the group mail, he added an ‘e’ to your last name.”
“I’ll have to e-mail him and correct it.” I’m trying to remember the schedule Mr. Nam set for the inspection. Do I have time to get a real trumpet? The thought of bringing Georgia to school and being laughed at is making my hands shake.
