“That’s what I’m saying.”
“And she’s lying to you too?”
“Yes.”
Kalyan whistles. “Blood.”
That about sums it up.
“And again,whyaren’t you telling her?” he asks.
“Because…”
Kalyan peers at the sky. “She hates you, doesn’t she? Told you all those letters were going to end badly.”
I chuckle morbidly. “She doesn’t hate me. She hates Jatin, or at least the idea of him. Thinks he is arrogant and cold.”
“Where did she get that from?” he says, deadpan, and raises an eyebrow in case I still don’t catch his meaning.
I gather some dirt and let it drizzle through my fingers.
Kalyan squints at me, then leans back on one arm. “Gods, now I get it. You want this to be like a normal relationship. You are trying to, ah, what’s the word…” He snaps his fingers. “Court her, get her to like you. That’s why you are lying.”
“And you think that’s so terrible?”
“I think when she finds out, it’s going to cause all sorts of trouble. And what about me? Your future wife thinks I’m her fiancé. That’s messed up. What if I run into her?” He pauses, then raises his eyebrows like an idiot. “What if she tries to kiss me?”
I snap to attention. “Okay, first of all, you aren’t that lucky or charming. Second, don’t worry, she hates you.”
“Because she thinks I’m Jatin Naupure?”
“Yep.”
“If I get fired over this, I swear,” he grumbles.
I give him a look. “You knew nothing about it.”
He lies down on his back. “You’re right. I don’t know a thing.”
I lie back too and stare at the clouds. Summer is nice to the clouds, makes them puffy and white. And I like that. I like their freshness. What’s so wrong with the color white anyway?
“Hey, Kalyan, what’s your favorite color?”
My friend sits up again and gives me the “do I need to be concerned about you?” look. I keep my attention on the clouds to maintain casualness.
“Orange,” he finally answers.
“What? Really?” I have to look at him now.
“Yeah, the sky only turns orange when it’s at peace.”
Peace. Not something Kalyan has seen much of. My memory plunges back to the night of the Southern Bay monsoon. How I strained my thirteen-year-old body and scream-casted to calm water, wind, and upturned earth. The rescue teams pulled so many bodies from the water or from under buildings it was like we had wrenched them up from a graveyard. Kalyan was one of the last I found—an eleven-year-old squeezed between a clay wall and a wood pillar impaling his calf. When I pried the wood from the kid, it was as if I had saved a younger version of myself. He looked like my twin.
His odds of survival were low, especially during the amputation. When his parents’ bodies were found, I thought he would lose hope and that would be the end of this kid who I kept skipping class to visit. I showed off my magic to him and he was only kind of impressed, but maybe that was enough, I had thought. So, I made a promise: “When you get out of the clinic you can come to the academy with me.”
I remember the way he had eyed me. “That fancy one?”
“Yep. I’ll even help train you, and I’m the best.”
