by Natasha Deen
Grandma, in the open doorway of my room, stops.
“Sure, but I’m not—” I fumble for the catch on the case. “The trumpet’s new, so it may not sound right—”
“Use the old one?” She puts her hands together as though she’s praying. “Please? Pretty please?”
My fingers still. Play Georgia? In front of her? I’m not sure I’m ready for that level of intimacy between Farah and me. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
Grandma’s watching.
I reach for Georgia. “Any requests?”
“‘Black and Blue.’ No, wait, ‘Till There Was You.’”
“You know Etta Jones’s work? I didn’t know you listen to jazz.” I take Georgia from his case, and Grandma moves off.
“Grams said you love it, and I wanted to know what was so great about it.” She shrugs. “It’s not all bad.”
Part of me wants to argue with her until she admits jazz is the greatest, but Georgia’s in my hands, and the familiar pull starts in my heart. I close my eyes and the first notes of “Till There Was You” start, soft at first, then building.
I want to play the song so it blows Farah’s mind. She’s better than me in almost everything. This is the only thing I have that’s mine over hers. But it’s more than competitiveness. She thinks jazz is okay. I want to play so well, she has to change her opinion from good to amazing.
When I’m done, Farah leans into the pillow and sighs. “They’ll be crazy not to take you.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to say it with such surprise.”
“No, I guess—I guess it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” For a second, I think she’s going to cry, but that would be stupid. I chalk it up to the late night. “Give me a second, I have to clean it, then I’ll come back.”
Grandma comes out of her room when she hears me in the hallway. She cups my chin and kisses my cheek. “Good girl.” Then she moves to my room and my cousin.
I clean Georgia in the bathroom because it would gross out Farah to see the spit valve at work. When I get to the bedroom, she’s lying on the pillow, her dark hair spread out like bird wings. “I’m sorry,” she says to the ceiling. “I’m sorry it surprises you when I’m nice.” She sits up and gives me an unsure smile. “But I think I should get some credit for being nice, considering who my parents are.”
I laugh. “You get extra credit for that,” which makes her laugh, too. “Your parents aren’t so bad.”
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to lie.”
“Your dad can’t be all bad. He came from Grandma, right?”
“She knows what he is.” Farah’s back to talking to the ceiling. “We all do.”
“Don’t worry about them tonight.” I crawl into bed, unsettled by how well we’ve gotten along. Farah’s being nice and I see the glimmer of what might be if we become friends. I shut off the light, feeling good.
“Hey, Nira? Noah’s cool. He’s cute, too.”
And there goes my good feeling.
CHAPTER NINE
DECEPTION IS A PANE OF SHATTERED GLASS
My parents attack the NASA trip, my school, and work with a ferocity last seen during the Manhattan Pro-ject. In the end, I get time off from school and work. The day before I leave, I’m with Emily and Mac in the cafeteria.
“It’s going to be so cool! Scientists and space shuttles.” Emily splits her grilled chicken in half and hands it to Mac.
I shouldn’t be jealous since she had two sandwiches and shared the first with me, but I want to slap the bread out of my rival’s hands. “It won’t be.”
“Because of your aunt and uncle?” Mac shakes her head. “Farah and I were talking about them last night. They’re something else.”
So is my life. Who knew it was possible to feel wild and free, yet claustrophobic and trapped at the same time? Farah’s doing a great job playing the charming princess, so much so, I’m starting to feel like the evil queen. It’s wrong to resent her presence with the gang, but she has friends of her own. Loads of them. Why shadow me and mine?
I feel like the NASA trip was a payment. She gives me a ticket, hotel, and food, and somewhere in the fine print, I allow access to my friends and my life. The worst part is that there’s no one to talk to about it. Maybe Grandma, but right now she’s at Farah’s house. Plus, it feels weird to ask her to take sides between us—especially when I only have to look at her face to see how much she loves Farah.
“I e-mailed Mr. Nam,” I say. “But he says he’s not sure when he’ll do the auditions.”
“It has to be soon,” Mac says, “otherwise there won’t be enough time to practice before the competitions.”
“In a way, it’s good news.” Emily puts her hand on mine. “At least it won’t happen during your trip.”
True. And that frees me up to concentrate on the bigger problem. Not giving in to temptation and strapping Farah and her folks to the nearest space shuttle, then sending them to Jupiter.
The entire family comes to the airport to drop me off. I hug Grandma and whisper, “Sure you don’t want to take my place?”
She squeezes me tight. “Not for all the tea in China.”
Farah and her parents are waiting for us at the terminal. There’s an awkward hug between Grandma and Uncle Raj, an even more awkward one between her and Aunty Gul. When it’s Farah’s turn, she holds Grandma tight. They whisper in each other’s ears until Uncle Raj pries them apart and says we need to leave. Mom makes me share my phone location with Farah, in case we get separated. I do, then make a mental note to shut it off as soon as we’re on the plane.
We get to the check-in desk, where my uncle asks for a first-class upgrade. I’m basking in the luxury until I realize the upgrade is only for him.
“My back,” he tells the airline rep. “It needs the extra support.”
Apparently, so does his ego.
Farah makes me take the middle seat in between her and Aunty Gul, then spends most of the flight sleeping on my shoulder.
“Things are good?” Aunty Gul asks.
“Yes.”
“School is okay, too?”
I nod. “I’m an A student, all the way.”
“And work?”
I’m starting to see why her marriage was arranged. How many ways can I say my life is fine? “Everything is great.”
Her smile is more plastic than the dinner tray in front of me. “How about you?”
“Good.”
I cast around for an attendant, hoping they’re coming down the aisle with drink, food, or anything else I can put in my mouth to end the conversation. The corridor is empty, just like my brain when it comes to holding Aunty Gul’s interest. “You were volunteering with—”
“The nonprofit.”
I’d have preferred a specific answer, but on this expedition, I’m the girl Indiana Jones. Instead of a whip, I have a dull spoon and a dull subject. “Do you find it enjoyable?”
She closes the window shutter against the rising sunlight. “We work with community stakeholders to ensure resources are directed to appropriate avenues.”
The meaning of the words is lost on me, but the job doesn’t sound like fun. The fact she didn’t answer my question isn’t lost on me, either. I heft my spoon and dig again. “Do you work with donors or community advocates?”
She nods. “I network with a diverse group of people. We synergize our resources to facilitate a granular approach so we can hit the ground running.”
She’s not the only one who’d like to hit something and run. I put down my spoon and pick up my headphones.
A few hours later, the plane touches down. In what feels like a lifetime later, a red-coated bellman opens the limo door. Uncle Raj leads the way to the front desk. I try not to gawk at the chandeliers, vases of flowers, and marble floors. Farah and her mom take a spot at one of the seating areas, and I join them.
“This will be exciting,” I say. “We get to see one of the launch pads and t
he balloon office. We even get a private talk with one of the astronauts.”
This is met with an underwhelming response. Aunty Gul’s smile barely touches her lips. Farah twirls her finger in the air, then goes back to texting.
“Here are your keys.” Uncle Raj materializes at my left and hands me a room card. “You are on the eighteenth floor with Farah.” He holds out a key to his wife. “We’re on the twenty-fourth.”
“Separate rooms?” I ask.
“Kids need their privacy,” he says, “and parents need solitude.”
Wow. I’d never get that kind of freedom if I traveled with my family. Come to think of it, I don’t even get that privacy at home, and I have a room of my own.
Aunty Gul puts her hand on my shoulder. “Remind me, your grandmother gave me something for you.”
I hold out my hand to take it, but she walks away, toward the front desk.
Uncle Raj reaches into his wallet and gives Farah a bunch of money. “For incidentals. Anything else, you have the credit card.”
Double wow and a hard swallow to push down the envy.
“Nira, you charge your things to the room.”
“You’re so lucky,” I tell Farah when we break off from her folks and get into the glass elevator.
She looks at me as though I’m dumber than sheet rock and we continue the elevator ride in silence.
Farah doesn’t seem impressed with the room but this is my first time in a hotel, and I’m trying not to squeal. Giant beds covered in crisp, white linen and draped with thick pillows. The bathroom has miniature bottles of everything—lotion, mouthwash, shampoo—plus shoe wipes, makeup-removing towelettes.
“Which bed do you want?” She calls from the main area.
The TV is in between the beds, so I tell her it doesn’t matter.
“Have the one by the balcony. The night air makes me cold.”
I wait until she’s in the bathroom before I go tourist and take a million pictures of the pool and ocean. After I pick the ones I like best, I text them to Noah and Emily. They reply that I’m “so lucky to be there!” which I love, and “Tell Farah hey,” which I love less.
“What do we do now?” I ask Farah when she comes out.
She shrugs. “What do you want to do?”
“Don’t we have to meet for dinner with your folks?”
“These trips Dad calls mini-vacations from reality. As long as I don’t get pregnant or arrested, I’m on my own.”
The freedom overwhelms me in a heady rush. “What about tomorrow and the NASA tour? They’ll want to be there, won’t they?”
“No, and if they change their minds, I’m screwed.”
I sit on the edge of my bed, remind myself it’s all mine, and bounce to the middle. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not going on that stupid tour.”
“What!”
She grabs the remote and flicks on the TV. “We’ll tell them we’re going and do something else instead.”
The room tilts.
“Mom and Dad won’t question it.”
I’m not sure if I’m awed by her bravado or terrified I’ve been pulled into her deceit.
“We’ll do something else.”
“My parents think I’m getting some kind of educational trip, we have to go!”
“Calm down, Girl Scout. We’ll get some brochures from the lobby and look at some astronaut videos, and it’ll be cool. Your parents will never know.”
“I’ll know, Farah, and I can’t do that.” Oh my god, I’m trapped in an unfamiliar city with a lunatic and two negligent adults.
“You can’t lie to your parents?”
“No.”
“Who the hell are you, Clark Kent’s illegitimate sister?”
“It’s not—Mom and Dad have never lied to me. I can’t do it. They’d know.” Besides, if I lie now, they’ll think I was in on it from the beginning. I’m going to be grounded until forever. Every day I’ll wake up and Dad will be at the foot of my bed, lamenting how he ended up with a child who tossed herself in the gutter.
“Oh my god, Nira. Just go with it. If you tell your parents, they’ll tell mine, and I’m dead meat.”
“Why would you even do this?” Why am I even asking the question? I know the answer. Because Farah is selfish, because she thinks I’m a goody-goody, and because this was probably her way of pranking me. Stick Nira in a lie and watch her twist.
“Because I won, and only a loser would take the tour!”
My insides go cold. “Thanks for calling me a loser.”
“Calm down. I didn’t mean it like—”
I stand. “What I don’t understand is why you asked me to be part of it. You could have asked any of your Farahbots—”
The skin on her face tightens.
“—and they would’ve lied for you and partied with you.”
“I thought you’d be cool.”
Cool. “Tell me again you didn’t call me a loser.” I head for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
I take my key and leave her. Florida’s gone from an adventure to a thing to survive. Everything seems dangerous and cold, and I don’t have the courage to cross the street and sit on the beach. I remember the package Aunty Gul has for me from Grandma, so I go to the front desk. Maybe there’s something in the envelope that will help me out of this situation, like a check for a million dollars. Or a heavy club I can use to brain Farah.
I tell the clerk my room number. “My aunt and uncle are here, too, but I don’t know their room number. They’re under Ghani.”
He goes to the computer for answers. “Do you want Mr. or Mrs. Ghani?”
“Sorry? I mean, does it matter? Aren’t they in the same room?”
“No. Mrs. Ghani is on the twelfth floor. Her husband is on the twenty-fourth.”
Whoa. Talk about a vacation from reality. “Mrs. Ghani’s room—no, never mind.” They didn’t tell me about sleeping separately. “I’ll see her at dinner.”
I help myself to brochures on NASA, taxis, and shuttles, and go to the indoor pool. The place is decorated with soothing blue walls, white columns, and a glass roof. Padded lounge chairs line the pool, and the entire thing gives off a peaceful, zen vibe. I nod at a trio of senior women simmering in the hot tub and sit in one of the chairs farthest from them. It faces the wall-to-ceiling window and gives me a clear view of the beach. For a second, I imagine myself there with Noah. But fantasies of hanging out with low-maintenance friends will wait until I figure out how to untangle myself from this mess Farah put me in.
I have money in my account, which means I can pay admission and take a tour. Mom and Dad don’t know the specifics of the educational part of the trip, only that it included a talk with an astronaut. On the NASA website, they have lectures for the public by an astronaut, so I’m covered.
Spreading out the brochures, I take a breath and calculate the cost of the tour. Then I do the math on how much I’ll pay a taxi to take me to NASA, and how much it’ll cost to feed myself for the day. The estimate spikes my heart rate. It’s going to take a giant bite out of my funds. I suppose it’s okay because I’m renting the trumpet and I’ll have enough left over until the next paycheck, but I had a plan, and Farah’s messed it up.
I want to text Emily, but she’s been spending so much time with Mac I’m not sure there’s space for me. I opt for Noah. It’s weird to be in a friend threesome with him and Farah, especially since it’s obvious to me who he likes and who he really likes. But I need someone to give me some perspective on not killing her, and he seems a sensible choice.
We go through the usual stuff, at the hotel and it’s gorgeous. He asks how the flight was, and a noncommittal food was good, no turbulence works. Or so I think, until the text bings, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU TO WANTING TO KILL THEM ALL?
My laughter echoes in the pool room and makes the old ladies in the hot tub twist my way. I wave an apology. TOO LATE. THINK HOUSEKEEP
ING WILL BELIEVE BLOOD IS KETCHUP?
SURE, IF YOU CALL IT CATSUP.
Why can’t I be back home with him?
I’M GUESSING FARAH’S BEEN CAUGHT.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. CAUGHT?
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
???
HOW’S THE “PLAN” FOR THE TOUR?
Holy crap. SHE TOLD YOU?
WANTED MY ODDS ON HOW MUCH YOU’D FREAK OUT.
AND YOU SAID?
BRING A BULLET-PROOF VEST
My head is spinning with the news. Noah knew. He knew, and he didn’t tell me. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? My fingers hover over the keyboard. I want to ask the question again, and follow it up with now I’m stuck in an expensive hotel, my parents will never believe I wasn’t in on it, and this could cost me jazz band.
But there’s no way to say any of that without sounding like a petulant baby.
IT WASN’T MY PLACE, he texts back. SHE CAME TO ME IN CONFIDENCE, AND I PROMISED I’D STAY QUIET.
Subtext, Noah’s chosen Farah over me. I’m glad I’m far away from the older women. They can’t see the tears in my eyes.
I TOLD HER IT WAS A BAD IDEA, he continues. I TOLD HER TO BE STRAIGHT WITH YOU.
I need to get him off the screen. THANKS, ANYWAY. I SHOULD GO. SHE’S PROBABLY WONDERING WHAT I’M DOING. TOOK OFF ON HER.
The text bubble appears on the screen, but I click off and shove the phone in my pocket. I stand and stumble from the pool room. Behind me, I hear the old ladies laughing, and it sounds like they’re laughing at me.
Stupid Nira, believing she could ever be one of the golden ones.
Idiot Nira, for thinking she could ever compete with her cousin.
My phone buzzes and bings. Noah, probably, but I ignore it. I push out in the street, raising my hand against the blinding sun. A few blinks later, my eyes adjust to the crystal blue sky, and the riot of color on the streets.
I don’t even know where I’m going. Don’t even know how safe it is to walk around. Is this like home, where there are grids of safe and not-safe blocks? Or is it like other big cities where one block is safe and one block isn’t, so it’s always best to take a cab?
I don’t have money for a taxi, and I couldn’t sit still, anyway. The street looks safe. Loads of tourists and stores catering to them. I head left, concentrating on the buzz of people talking, the drone of the traffic, and the shrieks of the seagulls overhead. The wind carries the scent of the ocean. I’d love to go and get my feet wet. But the way I’m feeling, I’ll probably walk into the Atlantic and keep going until the ocean is over my head, and I’m too far from shore to be rescued.
