And...I was probably staring too long there. He managed to raise one brow at me while still scowling. This guyreallyneeded to be in front of a camera.
I turned away, helping myself to some chevdo.
“Tahira’s seventeen,” Juniper said to her brother. “She’s got one more year of high school, like me.”
“Half,” I said. “I’m on track to graduate early with honors.”
Rowan looked at me. And I mean really looked...like he couldn’t quite figure me out. I guess he was entitled, considering the analysis of his appearance I’d just done. Then he turned away without saying anything—clearly deciding I wasn’t worth the mental energy to decipher.
Rude.
“Rowan’s graduation was last week,” Juniper told Mom and me. “He was backup valedictorian. What did you call it, Row? Understudy?”
“Salutatorian.”
“It’s such a weird word. I think they made it up at our school.”
“Rowan’s best friend, Leanne, was valedictorian,” Sharmin Aunty said. “Her parents are Joanne and Leeland, who used to own my house.”
I shrugged. So, Grumpy and the Sunshine Girl were smart, so what?
“We’re hoping Tahira gets many awards when she graduates,” Mom said. “Art awards definitely, but hopefully academic, too.”
“Rowan,” Sharmin Aunty said, “if you have a second, could you help bring a table out to the flat for Tahira and her friend to use?”
His head shot around to me. “There aretwoof you?”
“Yes, my best friend, Gia, is coming tomorrow. You’ll get the pleasure of both our company.”
Rowan glared at me again. No problem; I could glare, too. I even bit my lip with a flash of amusement, which probably annoyed him more.
“Well, everyone,” Mom said with a smile, standing. She wiped her hands on a napkin. “I really should get on the road. I need to stop at the office on the way home.”
After Mom said goodbye to Rowan and Juniper, she thanked Sharmin Aunty again and told her to call if I gave her any trouble.
“Tahira, come walk me out,” Mom said, and she and I walked around the house to her car.
She hugged me when we got there. “I know this isn’t what you wanted this summer,” she said, “but I also know you’ll make the best of it.”
I sank into the hug. I really was going to miss her. “I think it will be okay,” I said when I let go. At least I hoped it would be. Even if I wasn’t entirely happy to be here in Bakewell, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do the absolute best I could to make the summer a success. I needed the fashion experience too much.
Mom put her hand on my cheek. “You’ll be amazing, Tahira. I know you can accomplish anything. I’ll miss having you around this summer. You girls are growing up so fast.” She opened the car door. “Oh, and go to jamatkhana in Niagara Falls with your aunt when she goes.”
“I know, Mom.” Jamatkhana was an Ismaili Muslim place of worship, and we went to prayers regularly at one in Toronto. Mom didn’thave to nag me now; I didn’t mind joining my aunt for prayers here, too.
“Okay. Love you, Tahira.”
“Love you, too, Mom.” I smiled and waved to my mother from the driveway as she drove away.
As expected, Gia made anentrancewhen she arrived Monday morning. With a fresh spray-on tan and hair in perfect tousled waves, she clomped up the driveway in brown suede cowboy boots and a frothy pink floral dress that barely covered her butt.
I stood on the porch, laughing. “Gia, whatareyou wearing?” She’d always been more adaptable with her style choices, but this was way more country than I’d ever seen on her.
“You like it? I figured, when in cow town, right? Taylor Swift says we’re all supposed to be cottagecore these days.”
“This isn’t even a cow town.”
Gia’s father was behind her, carrying aluminum trays and bags that I knew would be filled with food. Gia’s parents were the type to constantly offer everyone around them meals, or salami. After I refused the salami a few times, they figured out I was Muslim and started buying beef salami, and they officially became my favorite friend-parents.
