When Ammu and I pull away, we’re both rubbing at our eyes. Even Abbu has put down his book and has red-rimmed eyes—like he’s been not-so-secretly crying too. He rubs at his nose when he catches me looking, like he’s embarrassed that I’ve seen him.
“Hey …” Priti’s voice jolts us all out of our teary emotions. She’s standing in the doorway to the room, taking us all in with wide eyes. “Um … what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Ammu sniffles once, rubs away the last of her tears and settles into position in her bed again. “Come here, let me put oil in your hair.”
Priti looks at us all skeptically for a moment before sitting down right beside me on the bed. She gives me a questioning look as Ammu begins to brush her hair back.
“Can I play a song?” I pull out my phone and start scrolling through Spotify.
“Rabindranath Sangeet.” We all groan at Abbu’s suggestion—even Ammu.
“Play something Bollywood,” Ammu says. “Something upbeat that your Abbu can’t sing along to.”
“Play ‘Tum Hi Ho.’” Priti bounces a little as she says it, but Ammu pulls her down by her hair and she settles again immediately, mumbling, “ouch,” under her breath.
“‘Tum Hi Ho’ is old, and it’s super depressing.”
“Play ‘Amar Shonar Bangla,’ we can all sing along.”
“Abbu!” Both Priti and I groan. Singing our patriotic national anthem is definitely not what I had in mind.
Finally, after scrolling through my Spotify for too long and battling away awful suggestions from my whole family, I put on a Bollywood song that everyone—including Priti—complains about. I roll my eyes and sigh, leaning against Ammu’s shoulder as she puts oil in Priti’s hair. But really, inside I am bubbling over with happiness.
32
TWO WEEKS OF APPLYING HENNA,OF HARD WORK,OFaccounting and of business plans pass. Despite my trashed stall, I manage to pull things together. It helps that Jess and Chaewon make me a brand-new poster with the colors of the lesbian flag. They even laminate it for good measure, so that nobody can rip it up.
But at the end of the two weeks our final presentations are due.
Ms. Montgomery told us about it the week before, calling us into her classroom at the end of the day on Friday. We all took seats as she stood at the top. She gave me a secret smile, like I’m her favorite to win; maybe that means something? That I have a chance? I seriously doubt it though.
“Next Friday is the last day of the competition,” she said in a booming voice that immediately shut everyone up. I caught sight of Flávia in one corner of the room. She was sitting beside Chyna, but she didn’t look happy about it. She shot me a weak smile.
“We’ll have your stalls set up all day, but because the judges will be coming around, you’ll also need to have your portfolios to present to them when the time comes,” Ms. Montgomery continued. “You’ll have to show them your accounts, your business plans, everything you’ve been keeping a record of. It’s not just the business with the most profit that’ll win, they’ll also be looking for the most innovative, the most eye-catching ideas. There are a lot of different criteria that go into the judging, so make sure your portfolios are up-to-date and ready.”
She went around to each group, going through what we had prepared so far and what we still needed to do. It didn’t sound too difficult. I had everything all set up, basically, since I’ve been keeping up with everything since the very beginning. I’m the daughter of a business owner, and I’ve been using Abbu’s work as an example every step of the way, and I’m Priti’s sister, which means she’s micromanaged everything. I’m kind of thankful for that now.
When presentation day comes I am fully prepared, but I still feel butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.
Chaewon:TODAY IS THE DAY!!!!!
Jess:ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I keep typing and erasing, typing and erasing. I’m not sure what I can say, and I’m not sure what I feel. I’m excited, but also relieved. Today is the day all of this stops. The whole mess of me and Flávia and Chyna started with this henna business, after all. Maybe some semblance of normalcy will return to my life after today. Though after everything that’s happened, I seriously doubt it.
Jess:meet you guys at my locker before school?
Chaewon:yes!!
Nishat:see you there
We gather at our lockers with excited grins. It feels like Christmas has come early for everybody involved in the competition. We’ve been working so hard—each and every one of us—and today is the day we get to show the world what we’ve accomplished. We get to claim the fruits of our labor—or try to, anyway. We spend the first class setting everything up once again, all of our stalls and banners and posters. I put up the poster Jess made me—the lesbian flag with all of its different shades of pinks and whites and reds. I can feel the others in the hall eyeing me with disdain, but I don’t care.
Flávia catches my eye from the other end of the hall as I put it up. I smile and she smiles back, waving at me. I feel my heart speed up and I take a deep breath. I have to keep my feelings in check.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my shirt. Two messages. From Flávia. I glance around, trying to catch her eye again, but she’s in an animated conversation with Chyna.
Flávia:good luck
