Priti lets out a small laugh. “Wow, this really has all gone to your head.”
“Well, you heard everyone at the dawat today.Theyall said our henna was great, and they’re all Desi. They know their henna.” It’s true. Since I got the approval of Desi Aunties, I’m set. They’re the true henna connoisseurs.
“That’s true.” Priti settles down on the bed next to me, peering at the designs spreading across my skin. “Do you need, you know, any help?”
I turn to take a long look at her. She’s tapping her bare feet on the floor to a nervous rhythm, and she’s not catching my eye, though it’s under the guise of examining my work.
“Are you procrastinating studying or is there something else?”
She lays herself down on the bed spread-eagle and gazes up at the ceiling. “I hate the Junior Cert.”
I smile. “Well, you have a celebratory dawat to look forward to once you get past it all.” A dawat where everybody debates your future while you linger on the edge, trying to eat the delicious food without attracting too much attention.
“Joy.”
“If you really want to help—”
“Yes, I’ll offer up my skin as sacrifice!” she cries.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need your sacrificial skin. I need help figuring out a plan to ‘borrow’ Flávia’s henna tubes.”
Priti stills, looking at me with a frown. “Apujan … you aren’t really serious about that.”
“I am. I’m very serious about that.”
“You can’tsteal—”
“Am I having déjà vu or did we already have this conversation?”
She stiffens at the interruption. At the sarcastic tone in my voice. Usually, our banter is playful. Back and forth. But this—this feels different. Not the sarcasm or the fact that I’ve interrupted her, but the atmosphere in the room. Like someone has suddenly flicked a switch and changed the energy completely.
“Ammu and Abbu wouldn’t approve of this. It’s not how we were raised. It’s not in our principles to sabotage other people. Look after yourself and what you’re doing and success will follow.” She sounds so holier-than-thou that I roll my eyes. Which is the wrong move, because her frown deepens.
“Ammu and Abbu don’t approve of a lot of things, so forgive me for not using them as the barometer of what I should or shouldn’t do.”
“This is different and it’s—”
“And successwon’tfollow, because Flávia is trying to undermine everything I do. She’s trying to take this away from me. I’m not going to let her win.”
“I don’t know what she did to you, Apujan, but … you know there are certain things you shouldn’t do to get ahead. It’s better if you just keep your head down and think about your own business, and don’t worry about hers.”
“You didn’t say that when I bought out Raj Uncle’s shop.” I know my voice is rising, and I can feel the anger palpitating through my body. It’s been simmering inside of me since Flávia sent me that text. Maybe longer.
“That was different.” Priti’s voice is soft. It seems the angrier I get, the more vulnerable she becomes. “You know it was different. That was just … something small. She’ll barely notice that.”
“So it was a terrible idea and you just went along with it?” I’m almost shouting now.
“Apujan …”
“Stop!” I turn away from her. “You know what she’s doing is wrong, Priti. And she’s trying to sabotage me and my business at every turn. Playing games with … with …” My heart, but I don’t say that. “my mind, our culture. Shestolefrom us. She went to a wedding and saw the pretty henna and decided it was something she could have. She barely knew anybody there. She shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Just because she did something wrong doesn’t mean you should do something wrong too, Apujan. I know you’re better than that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
I expect her to say more. To try and change my mind. But she doesn’t.
The bed creaks as she stands and shuffles out the door. The room feels too empty, too silent, in her sudden absence.
