American as Paneer Pie Page 10

  I reached for a can of pop in between bites of piping hot pizza. Aai normally had us avoid cans because of some chemical they leached, but she wasn’t here and I was thirsty.

  Seated by the sliding-glass door, through which I could just barely make out the river in the darkness, Harper was wrapping a gooey strand of cheese around her finger like a bandage. “We have to beat Preston tomorrow. They beat us at every swim meet last year. Tomorrow, it stops.”

  “For sure,” said Kendall, chewing on some candy. “Hey!”

  Harrison swiped the candy off Kendall’s plate and put it on his pizza. Kendall playfully rubbed Harrison’s blond hair as he swallowed his mutant pizza down.

  “That is disgusting,” laughed Aidy.

  “He’s always putting the grossest stuff on his pizza,” said Harper.

  “You ladies want anything else to eat?” asked Mrs. Walbourne from the kitchen.

  “No, thanks,” I said as the fizz from the pop tickled my throat.

  “Mm-kay,” she responded, her head inside the fridge.

  I gasped when I saw the large navy-blue magnet on the open refrigerator door. It said, DON’T LIKE IT?

  “What’s wrong?” asked Harper.

  “Bit my tongue,” I lied. My third lie of the night. I was getting to be a little too good at this. But if Mrs. Walbourne had a Winters magnet up, did that mean she didn’t like me? That she thought my parents were stealing everyone’s jobs? I tried to figure out a way to casually mention the fact that Aai no longer worked at the plant, but Harrison spoke up first.

  “What are you getting for Christmas?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Harrison. Santa hasn’t come to my house yet,” said Aidy.

  “I’m getting LEGOs,” Harrison responded, in between bites of chocolate cheese.

  “What do you want Santa to bring you, Lekha?” asked Aidy. “Sorry. Is it against your religion to celebrate Christmas?”

  I took a big gulp of pop, hoping I wouldn’t burp from all the bubbles I was swallowing. “It’s not against my religion. But it’s not really a holiday for my religion,” I said softly, hoping Mrs. Walbourne wasn’t going to say something to me.

  “Yeah, Hindi people celebrate Diwali,” said Harper, trying to show off what she had heard in Mr. Crowe’s class, not realizing she had said the language, Hindi, instead of the religion, Hindu.

  But as usual, I didn’t speak up to correct her. I just nodded, reaching for another slice of pizza, wishing the topic of conversation would change. We did have a Christmas tree, but only because I begged Dad to get me one after I’d helped decorate Noah’s year after year. Aai spent way too much time worrying about the flame retardants in the prelit plastic trees and eventually compromised on getting a potted rosemary plant shaped like a Christmas tree from a store. We would decorate it each December and let it hang out in the Jungle for the rest of the year. But I didn’t get a ton of Christmas presents. I got one from my parents, and then Noah and I exchanged one too.

  After dinner the four of us took our turns in the bathroom, brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed. Then we went into Harper’s room. Harper’s room was a lot like my room. No computer, off-white walls, a lot of books, and posters and calendars everywhere, except instead of posters of Aamir Khan and Hindu gods, she had posters of bands and Wonder Woman.

  I had a brief moment of panic when Kendall began to braid Aidy’s hair, hoping no one had Googled sleepovers like Avantika had and wanted to braid my hair, but no one asked, and I didn’t mention it. All I knew was I would be dealing with a bunch of knots in my hair the next morning that would need a ton of oil and Aai brushing to untangle them. Because I wasn’t getting a chance to put it into a bunch of braids myself. But I didn’t want to deal with them seeing my birthmark, or putting a comb in my hair and seeing it get stuck. And I definitely didn’t want someone to ask what stank when I put coconut oil in my braids.

  As the lights went off in Harper’s mom’s room, where she and Harrison were sleeping, our voices dropped to a whisper.

  “You guys, I know how we can make sure we beat Preston tomorrow,” said Aidy, reaching into her backpack. We all leaned in to see what the secret weapon was going to be. Aidy pulled out a pink plastic razor.

  Kendall began to giggle. “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you watch the Olympics? Professional swimmers shave their legs and arms. It cuts seconds off their times.”

  “I doubt it helps that much,” said Harper, glancing at her mother’s door.

  “Sure, it does,” said Aidy, typing frantically on Kendall’s phone. “See? It makes you more aerodynamic.”

  We all scanned the article she had brought up about shaving and swimming.

  “Besides, I already shave my legs when I wear shorts. My mom let me start in fifth grade,” said Aidy.

  “I’m not shaving my arms,” said Kendall. “My dad’s face is super rough from shaving. I don’t want my arms to feel that way.”

  “You barely even have hair on your arms,” said Aidy.

  I played with the elastic cuffs on the ends of the Dolphins sweatshirt, grateful my arms weren’t showing.

  “So, what do you say?” asked Aidy. “Teammates stick together, right? We want to win tomorrow, right? Your first time representing the Dolphins at a meet?” she asked, looking at me and Harper.

  Harper quickly nodded.

  I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to say no. But my lips wouldn’t move. Instead, I grabbed the razor. It was lighter than I had expected, and yet everything about it felt like it was weighing me down and I was sinking.

  I watched as the two strips of metal glistened in the light from Harper’s lamp. The blades looked sharp. I wondered if it would hurt. I wondered if I would have little specks of toilet paper pressed against the dabs of blood on my legs the way Dad sometimes had to do to his chin, cheeks, and neck.

  But if all it took was a little bit of pain to finally be accepted, to finally be just like everyone else, whether it was on the team or at school, maybe it was worth keeping my mouth shut and just doing it?

  Aidy grinned, and my head started to feel like a brick. I suddenly wished I hadn’t lied my way out of a sleepover with Avantika. I had already lied to my mom, Avantika, and my teammates today. I didn’t want to do anything else wrong. And I knew Aai would have been really mad if I shaved before she said I could. She always said kids grow up way too fast in America. She got mad once at the dentist’s when she saw me reading a teen magazine about crushes. If tomorrow she saw I had shaved, she’d be furious. So I put the razor down and, despite it being almost as light as a feather, I felt a weight being lifted away as I shook my head. Like it actually felt good to stand up for myself for once, even though I knew what was coming next.

  “You of all people aren’t doing it?” snapped Aidy, any trace of her smile gone.

  “Aidy!” said Kendall, grabbing the razor. “Don’t worry about it, Lekha.”

  “No, she should worry about it,” said Aidy.

  “Shh!” begged Harper, glancing around the room as if the door weren’t closed and her mom was standing right in front of us, hearing about the top-secret shaving plans.

  “My parents don’t want me to shave yet,” I said, certain I sounded younger than Harrison.

  “Aren’t you sick of people telling you you need a lawn mower? Or calling you Broom? This is how to stop it,” Aidy said, pointing to the razor. “Plus, you’ll guarantee we win.”

  The only way to stop being called Broom was to shave? I wanted to yell back at Aidy that she was the only one who called me Broom, so if she just stopped saying it, it would stop. I wanted to remind her I’d already done something against my mom’s rules when I had lied to come to this sleepover. I wanted to tell her we had already swum our fastest times and we all had hair on our bodies when we did it. I wanted desperately to say all of this. Maybe I’d feel even less burdened than I had felt a moment ago. But instead, I just stood there as Aidy sighed dramatically
at me, like I was some annoying outsider ruining everything for her.

  “I’m really tired,” I said, changing the subject. “You guys can do it. I’m going to bed.” I scooched down into my sleeping bag, putting the cover over my face so they wouldn’t see the tear that had slipped out. I knew that dealing with how upset Aai would be if I shaved would be only slightly worse than dealing with how upset my teammates were right now. I tried not to let any more tears break free as Kendall, Harper, and Aidy shaved their legs in the closed bathroom. Every few seconds, in between the whispers and grumbles I was positive were about me, I heard someone say, “Ouch,” and Harper shush them before adding her own, “Ow!”

  I was so mad at myself for blowing off Avantika. I knew she would never have made me feel bad for not doing something I didn’t feel comfortable doing. I’d be watching Hindi movies with her and laughing if I hadn’t canceled on her. I had made a mistake. No. It was worse than that. I had conned my way out of hanging out with a good friend. And I let everyone watch as I canceled on her. I deserved to be miserable right now.

  I rolled onto my side and held the top of my sleeping bag tightly over my ears, trying to drown out the yelps of team bonding in the bathroom. I wiped my nose, sniffling, my chest heavy. I didn’t have to say “ouch” or “ow” like my teammates to know how badly I was hurting.

  chapter NINETEEN

  The next morning I got ready and ate breakfast with the rest of the team, my hair full of knots. It was a much quieter meal than our dinner had been. Aidy, Kendall, and Harper didn’t say anything about shaving to me, probably because Harper didn’t want her mom to find out what they had done. Or maybe because they were trying to hide the hobbling caused by all their cuts. Dad and the rest of the parents came to get us soon after breakfast so we could have time to recoup before the meet, and I practically bolted to the car after saying bye.

  “Did you have fun with your new friends?” asked Dad as the car drove alongside the snakelike river that coiled its way around this part of Oakridge. “Or should I say, ‘pod’?”

  I watched the small houses on the drab riverbank, under the gloomy December sky, blur by us.

  “Get it? A pod is a group of dolphins,” Dad said, taking the turn off the dirt road onto pavement.

  “Pod” is probably a more realistic term for us than “friends,” I thought, eager to get home to see my real friends.

  I pulled one of my sweatpants legs up, looking at the fine black hairs on my skin. I ran my hand up and down my bony leg. The hair felt fuzzy and soft. But it was definitely visible. I thought back to Liam laughing at me at tryouts as we pulled onto our street.

  I quickly shoved my pant leg back down. Avantika and her parents were in their driveway, loading their bags into their car. Aai was heading down the porch steps, probably to say bye to them. My hand began to sweat as I gripped the car door handle, waiting for Dad to pull into the driveway so I could stop her from spilling the beans about my sleepover.

  The rickety garage door started opening as Aai headed down our walkway to the driveway.

  “I really should oil that,” said Dad. “Remind me tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Can I get out?”

  Aai was a couple of steps from our car.

  “Missed Aai that much?” laughed Dad, unlocking the door. “She’ll be glad to hear that.”

  “Something like that,” I said, hopping out.

  Aai hugged me. “How was it?”

  “Great!” I said. I guessed I could add that to my lie tally. So much for being a good Desi kid.

  “I’m going to say bye to the Savarkars. Want to come?” she asked as Dad neared us.

  I nodded, digging my fingers under my jacket collar to put my Dolphins hood over my head. “Just don’t tell her where I was last night. I don’t want her to feel bad since she couldn’t have a sleepover.”

  Forget Broom and Dot. I had a new name for myself. Liar. And it almost felt worse than the others.

  I ran across the street to Avantika, who stood before six large suitcases and three carry-ons her parents were trying to fit into their little sedan.

  “Where are you coming back from?” she asked, waving to me.

  “I was at a … team thing,” I said. That was actually the truth. For once. “Ready for India?” I asked as my parents started helping Avantika’s in a game of suitcase Tetris.

  “I’m so excited. I could use the break from this freezing weather!” She shivered.

  I nodded. I didn’t have the heart to tell her this was nothing, that normally we had lots of snow in December, or that January and February would be way worse.

  “I wish you were here for our neighbor dinner with Noah’s family tomorrow. You’d have fun. We do it every Christmas break when Noah’s parents are off for shutdown.”

  Avantika looked confused.

  “Plant shutdown. The car factories. When they’re closed, anyone who works there is off too, so Noah’s parents are on vacation then. And my mom used to be too, when she worked at the plant, so they started this tradition every year we don’t go to India. We always go to What’s the Mattar?, even if it’s snowing, as long as the roads are okay.”

  Avantika giggled in between her teeth chattering. “What did you say?”

  “What’s the Mattar? They make the best mattar paneer. And they have hilarious Hindi jokes all over their menu. What did the happy pea say to the sad pea?”

  Avantika grinned. “Oh. What’s the mattar,” she said, emphasizing the Hindi word for peas.

  “What did the brother carrot say to the sister carrot?”

  “Gaajar … I don’t know.”

  “Gaajar annoying. Like, God, you’re annoying. Get it?” I continued as Avantika laughed. “And here’s Noah’s favorite. What did the cheese say to the corn chip at the dance party?”

  “Nacho!” Avantika exclaimed, saying the Hindi word for dance. “That is hilarious. There should be some Marathi jokes like that.”

  “There should be, but there aren’t. We’ll have to invent them.”

  “I’ll work on some on the plane rides, and you can do it over break.”

  “Deal.” I smiled, suddenly feeling a tightening in my throat. It was the feeling I got every time we said bye to my family in India. It was the worst, saying bye to your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins after getting to spend a few days being close to them and getting close with them. Bending down to do namaskar to your elders, trying not to cry as you glance at the wrinkles on their feet, knowing it may be the last time you ever get to hug them, the last time you ever get to see them. Avantika was going for only three weeks, but I knew I was going to miss her, and I knew I hadn’t been a good friend to her lately. I gave her an awkward hug, wishing that I could fly on the plane with my friend instead of having to swim with my pod.

  chapter TWENTY

  That evening, with Avantika gone, I sat next to Harper, Kendall, and Aidy on the cold metal bleachers, watching the rest of the Dolphins swim their events. We were in our dark-blue Dolphins swimsuits, and I kept my towel over my lap, hoping no one would notice the hair on my legs. When my teammates were cheering on the divers, I snuck a quick glance at their legs. They were hair-free, except for some patches they had missed, but they were also covered with dozens of little red lines. Cuts.

  “My knee kills,” whispered Kendall.

  “Don’t be a baby. It’s like a paper cut,” said Aidy.

  “Like five hundred paper cuts all over my knees and legs,” muttered Kendall. “My sister laughed when she saw me this morning. She said you’re supposed to use water and soap to shave. Not just drag a razor across dry legs.”

  Harper raised an eyebrow at Aidy. “You said you’d done this before.”

  Coach Turner waved for us to take our places. Aidy stood up, her cheeks red, and started loosening up in stretches as she led us to our lane.

  I glanced over, sizing up our competition. The Electric Eels, Dragons, Sharks, and Rockets were stretching, goggle
s on, looking fierce, but I wasn’t worried. They weren’t as good as us. The only team I was worried about was several lanes away: the Preston Porpoises.

  My belly felt like it was flickering on and off like that broken light in our cafeteria. I turned back to the stands. Aai had the camcorder out, ready to record my every move. Dad stood up and made his way down closer to me. “Lekha. Lekha!”

  I could feel my ears getting hotter. “I can hear you, Dad.”

  Some people in the audience snickered.

  “Himmat karke,” he mouthed to me, sensing my embarrassment.

  I took a deep breath in, trying to be brave. “… Badha kadam,” I mouthed back to him.

  Satisfied, Dad returned on his apology tour, stepping over people as he went back up to his spot next to Aai, and my team closed in for a huddle with our coach.

  “Stay focused,” Coach Turner said. “Breathe. You’re a new team, but you are one of the best I’ve ever coached.”

  Aidy added her part of the pep talk. “We are going to beat them. We’re faster. We know we are.” She nodded at Harper and Kendall before turning to me with an ever-so-quick look of annoyance.

  “Dolphins on three,” said Coach as we followed his lead and roared our team name.

  Harper got in the water, preparing for the backstroke, as Kendall, Aidy, and I took our positions. The buzzer sounded and Harper was off, kicking her legs, her arms moving smoothly with each commanding stroke. She turned at the far end, almost half a pool length ahead of everyone else, including Preston. We cheered as she hit the wall, and Kendall dove in, her head bobbing in the water with each breath and stride.

  She had a huge lead thanks to Harper, but she wasn’t moving her legs as fast as normal, and in between the foam, I could see her cringing, like she was in pain.

  “Hurry up, Kenny! They’re gaining on you!” shouted Aidy, hopping nervously in place.

  Kendall began to kick faster, but the Rockets, Dragons, and Porpoises were nearing her. And soon the Preston swimmer overtook her.